The chandelier above Adrian swayed violently, the crystals clinking like warning bells. Elena froze in the doorway, her heart pounding.
"Adrian—"
He didn't move. His eyes were locked on the swinging light, his jaw set as though this was just another battle he had faced too many times.
Then one of the chains snapped with a loud metallic crack.
"Adrian!"
Elena bolted forward on instinct. He shoved his chair back and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the way just as a shard of glass fell from above, smashing onto the desk where he had been sitting seconds earlier.
The chandelier jerked again, but this time it held, swinging wildly as if unseen hands were pushing it.
Elena pressed against him, her chest heaving. "That's not normal! That's not—"
"I told you," Adrian said grimly, his grip like iron on her wrist. "It's the curse. It never wastes time."
Her pulse hammered in her throat. "You really believe that. You think this—this madness—is following you?"
Adrian's gaze cut into hers, dark and unyielding. "I don't think. I know."
Her stomach twisted. His certainty was more terrifying than the falling glass.
"
Adrian turned back to the shattered glass on the desk, dismissing her without another glance.
Elena stood frozen for a moment, then spun on her heel and stormed out, her chest burning.
Elena lay in the vast canopy bed, staring at the carved ceiling above. The mattress was too soft, the sheets too smooth, and the silence too heavy.
Back in her apartment, the night had been filled with familiar sounds — traffic outside, neighbors arguing, her father's soft coughs when she stayed with him. Here, in the Blackwood Manor, every sound seemed foreign, ominous.
The old walls groaned. Somewhere down the hall, a clock ticked steadily, each second dragging her closer to dawn. Sleep refused to come.
Finally, she pushed off the blankets and slipped into the hallway.
The manor at night was worse. Shadows stretched long across the walls, broken only by the dim glow of lanterns. Portraits of Blackwood ancestors lined the corridor, their painted eyes following her every step.
She stopped before one — a stern woman in a black gown, her face pale, her expression hard. The cracked paint made her look almost skeletal.
Elena shivered. "Creepy old bat," she muttered under her breath.
"Careful."
The sudden voice made her jump. One of the maids stood behind her, wringing her hands nervously.
Elena pressed a hand to her chest. "Do you people make it a habit to sneak up on guests?"
The maid's face paled. "Forgive me, ma'am. I… I only meant to warn you. The halls at night are not safe."
Elena frowned. "Not safe? Why? Afraid I'll trip on the carpet?"
The maid's eyes darted to the portrait. "They say… she walks at night. The lady in the painting."
Elena stared at her. "You mean to tell me a ghost roams this place?"
The maid quickly bowed and hurried off, leaving Elena standing alone with the painted woman's cold gaze.
Elena exhaled, trying to steady herself. "Great. Haunted house clichés. Just what I needed."
---
She turned to head back to her room, but the corridor stretched on longer than she remembered. Doors lined the walls, all shut tight. The air grew colder with each step.
Then she heard it.
A whisper.
"Elena…"
Her blood froze. She spun around. "Who's there?"
The hall was empty.
She walked faster, her footsteps echoing. Another whisper followed, closer this time.
"Elena…"
Her heart hammered. She broke into a run, but the hall seemed endless. The portraits blurred past, their faces warping in the dim light.
Suddenly, the chandelier above her groaned. She looked up just in time to see a chain snap.
The massive fixture plummeted toward her.
"Elena!"
Strong arms yanked her back. The chandelier crashed where she had been standing, shards of crystal scattering across the floor.
Elena gasped, her body pressed against Adrian's. His grip was iron, holding her close, shielding her from falling glass.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "That… that nearly killed me."
Adrian's jaw was tight, his gray eyes blazing in the dim light. "I told you. The curse doesn't waste time."
She shoved against him, breathless. "Don't you dare blame this on some stupid curse. This is your house! Your chandelier!"
"It's not the house," he said coldly. "It's me."
Her anger faltered. His voice was too sharp, too certain.
She whispered, "Do you really believe that?"
His grip loosened slightly, his eyes dark with something she couldn't name. "Belief has nothing to do with it. Every woman who's cared for me has suffered. You will too."
Her stomach twisted. "Then why keep me here?"
His lips curved into a bitter smile. "Because it's the only way to keep your father alive."
Her heart ached, torn between rage and despair.
Adrian released her suddenly, stepping back. "Go to your room. And stay there. Do not wander these halls again."
Elena's fists clenched. "You can't lock me away like some prisoner."
His eyes hardened. "You're not a prisoner, Elena. Y
ou're my wife. Learn the difference."
He turned and walked away, leaving her trembling amid the shattered glass.
The whispers lingered, faint but chilling.
"Elena…"