After the stormy night, Ava woke with an aching body and an empty soul. The bedroom remained in darkness, only faint streetlights filtering through the curtain gaps. Ryder was gone. He always left before dawn, leaving no trace but the lingering scent of mint and sandalwood in the air, a cruel reminder of his presence.
The days that followed passed like a slow-motion film. Ava's life shrank to the four walls of the Blackwood mansion, a magnificent gilded cage. She was no longer allowed outside; even a stroll in the rose garden required Hawkins' supervision. All contact with the outside world was severed. Her phone was confiscated. All correspondence and news about Lam An were relayed by Hawkins, through Ryder's terse, cold words. Lam An had undergone surgery, the operation was successful, but the boy still needed time to recover and close monitoring. That information was both a ray of hope and an invisible chain binding Ava. She knew she couldn't leave as long as Lam An needed Ryder's help.
Hawkins, the butler, maintained his polite yet distant demeanor. He arranged all of Ava's daily life perfectly, from meals to attire, but never offered a warm word or a smile. The young maid, Lily, who frequently served Ava, also kept a wary, fearful attitude. Ava felt the terrifying silence that enveloped the mansion, a silence that not even the birdsong from the garden could break. It was the silence of power, of absolute control.
Ava spent most of her time in the library, trying to bury herself in books to escape the harsh reality. She read about distant lands, romantic love stories, daring adventures, but the more she read, the more imprisoned she felt, and the more she craved freedom. She looked out the window, gazing at the distant city, wishing she could return to her normal life, even a poor one, but with the freedom and love of her family.
Ryder only appeared in the evenings, and not every evening. Some nights, he returned late and went straight to his study, leaving Ava in hopeless anticipation. Other nights, he would come to her room, without warning. His presence always brought an atmosphere of tension and Ava's underlying fear.
On the nights Ryder came, he didn't speak much. He would enter, his deep blue eyes sweeping over Ava, as if inspecting an object. Then, without her consent, he would pull her into his arms. His kisses were still brutal, possessive, devoid of any tenderness or affection.
One night, Ryder returned, a faint scent of alcohol clinging to him. He entered Ava's room, looking tired but his eyes still sharp and cold. He said nothing, only removed his jacket and tie, then looked at Ava. She knew what he wanted. She trembled as she removed her thin nightwear.
Ryder didn't lie down beside her immediately. He stood before her, his gaze fixed on her slender body. Ava felt naked and vulnerable under that gaze. She wanted to shy away, but dared not. Ryder raised a hand, his long, rough fingers tracing her collarbone, gently stroking down her shoulder, then gliding along her arm. There was no burning passion of frenzied desire, just a slow, powerful exploration.
"You're trembling," Ryder murmured, his voice low and slightly hoarse, without any warmth. "Are you that afraid of me?"
Ava dared not answer. She knew every word would be meaningless. He didn't want an answer. He wanted her to be afraid. He wanted her to obey.
Ryder suddenly leaned down, kissing the hollow of her shoulder, then moving lower, each kiss carrying the coldness of possession. He wasn't rushed, but every movement made Ava feel like a living statue, being sculpted by him at his will. He used one hand to lift her hip, his other hand caressing down her thigh, making her shiver.
When he pushed her onto the bed, Ava felt the coldness of the silk sheets. Ryder pressed down on her, heavy and oppressive. He said nothing, only looked directly into Ava's tear-filled eyes, his deep blue gaze like a bottomless abyss.
"Close your eyes," he commanded, his voice authoritative.
Ava slowly closed her eyes, tears spilling from the corners. She felt his penetration, still brutal and unyielding. A sob escaped her throat. Ryder didn't stop; he only tightened his grip around her waist, and Ava felt as if she was being torn in half. His every rhythm was an assertion of power, a reminder that she belonged entirely to him.
Perhaps because he was tired, or perhaps because he had begun to grow accustomed to her body, Ryder's invasions no longer caused intense pain like the first time, but they were still full of possession and devoid of emotion. Ava felt like a ship drifting on the sea, carried by his every great wave, unable to resist, unable to find shore. All she could do was cling to the faint idea of Lam An, of her brother's life, to keep from completely collapsing.
After it was over, Ryder didn't leave immediately. He lay down beside Ava, his back to her. Ava could feel the warmth from his back, but it offered no comfort, only intensifying her loneliness. She lay there, not daring to move, listening to his steady breathing in the darkness. For the first time, Ryder stayed the night in her room.
The next morning, when Ava woke, Ryder was gone. Only a lingering warmth remained on the bedsheets, and his scent. Ava stared at the empty space beside her, a strange feeling creeping into her heart. She didn't understand what that feeling was—was it relief that he was gone, or an inexplicable emptiness because he wasn't there?
Ava's life continued in the gilded cage. She no longer hoped to escape, only to endure. She learned to adapt to the loneliness, to the silence, and to Ryder's nightly visits.