The moment his hand touched my elbow, a shock ran through me. Firm. Unyielding. He didn't ask me to move. He simply guided me towards the door.
"Wait!" I whispered, but the sound barely reached him.
The front doors were open now, revealing the cold night beyond. A sleek black car waited silently. I turned to look at my family. My father said nothing. My stepmother stood beside him, expressionless, and my stepbrother's smirk widened as if this were the most entertaining show he'd ever witnessed.
He opened the car door and nudged me inside, then slid in beside me. The engine started, and the house faded behind us, swallowed by darkness. My fingers fumbled in my lap, heart hammering uncontrollably. I had no idea where I was going or what awaited me. Everything felt unreal, like a horrible nightmare.
"Where…where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though it trembled.
His eyes flicked to me briefly, unreadable. "Somewhere you'll understand your place."
My stomach twisted. "My place? I…don't belong to anyone!"
He didn't answer. I tried to study him, searching for a crack in his perfect composure. There was danger in him, yes, but also command—an aura of control that made my chest tighten and my thoughts race.
The city passed in blurred lights outside the tinted windows. I pressed my head against the glass, panic rising in waves. The familiar streets, the comfort of home, all disappeared behind us. I was slipping into a world I didn't understand, one ruled by a man whose presence made my body both tense and alert.
I swallowed hard. "You can't just take me like this. My father---"
"He doesn't matter," he interrupted, voice low and controlled. "None of them do. Only you and me. For now."
I shivered, raising my head to look at him. "For now?" I echoed, voice trembling. "You…you can't…this is wrong!"
He leaned slightly closer, just enough that I caught the faint scent of leather and something musky beneath it. His eyes locked on mine, unblinking and analyzing.
"Wrong is a matter of perspective," he said. "And you'll find it easier if you stop fighting it."
Every nerve in my body screamed. I wanted to protest, to struggle, to insist on my freedom but the truth was inescapable.
I tried to imagine an escape, any way out of this. The streets flashing past the car offered no comfort. The city was dark, alive, and indifferent to me.
My father had abandoned me. My stepbrother was delighted. My stepmother…she had always been a stranger. A sharp stab of betrayal pierced my chest. They had handed me over like some object. I blinked back tears pooling in my eyes.
"You'll adjust. Eventually, you'll see that fighting only makes it harder for both of us."
I flinched. Adjust. See. Fight. Words that screamed control, dominance, and inevitability.
The car slowed, turning down a quieter street. The lights dimmed further, reflecting off the glass walls of nearby buildings. Then, in the distance, a pair of massive gates came into view. Beyond them, a mansion loomed like a fortress of wealth. Its walls were pristine, gleaming marble accented with gold trim. Sculpted fountains flanked the long driveway.
He stepped out of the car first, reaching for my hand. "Welcome home, Mara."
The way he said my name made my stomach tighten.
"Good evening, Mr. Voss," a butler stepped forward, eyes scanning me carefully. He gestured toward the house.
The front doors opened onto a living room. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light across polished marble floors, walls adorned with priceless art, and furniture arranged with precise elegance. A massive floor-to-ceiling window revealed the city beyond. As we stepped further inside, a woman hurried toward us, bowing respectfully.
"Take her to her room. Make sure she gets changed and is at the table in the next hour," Daniel said, voice commanding.
"Of course, Mr. Voss," she replied, guiding me toward the grand staircase.
The walls were lined with intricate molding, and portraits of men and women I didn't recognize looked down from gold-framed canvases. My footsteps echoed lightly, swallowed by the quiet authority of this house. I clutched the banister, heart still pounding.
When we reached the room, it was enormous. Plush carpets, soft lighting, and large windows overlooking a private garden. On the bed lay a single dress, neatly folded and waiting for me.
"This is what you'll wear tonight," the woman said softly, setting it down. "Your things will arrive tomorrow. For now, we'll start here."
I swallowed, managing a small nod.
The woman helped me slip into the dress, and she didn't speak unless necessary, letting her actions do the guiding. My reflection in the tall mirror caught me off guard. I looked like a stranger, delicate, vulnerable, and exposed.
Once the dress was on, the woman stepped back. "You'll be at the table shortly," she said gently. "I'll fetch you when it's time."
I nodded, my fingers clutching the fabric at my waist. Alone now, I glanced around the room, the city lights twinkling through the glass, and realized fully: I was a guest in a palace, but I was also a prisoner.
The door clicked softly behind the woman as she left, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the walls. My mind raced, my pulse still unsteady.
Tomorrow my belongings would arrive, but tonight, I had nothing but the dress and the awareness that my life had changed forever.
I placed my hands on the fabric, tracing its folds. The weight of the night, the ride, and his presence pressed down on me.
I didn't know what awaited me downstairs or how much control this man truly held. But I knew one thing: I had to survive, and this was only the beginning.