Morning comes too soon. I barely sleep, my head full of thoughts I can't push away. Every time I close my eyes, I hear Dante's voice again: You were part of a war you didn't choose.
It replays in my mind like a broken record. The worst part is, I don't even know what kind of war he meant.
When I finally get up, the house is quiet. No footsteps, no murmured voices. Just the steady ticking of a clock somewhere down the hall. I pull the sweater tighter around me and wander out into the corridor.
Rosa is nowhere to be found. Usually, she's the first person I see, always moving, always watching. Today, the silence feels heavier without her.
I decide to go outside. The air inside the mansion feels too thick, too full of unspoken things.
The garden is damp from last night's rain. The smell of wet earth fills the air, mixed with the faint sweetness of roses. The fountain trickles softly, the sound calming in a way nothing else here is. For a moment, I let myself breathe.
There's something peaceful about the garden. It's the only part of this place that doesn't feel like a prison. I walk along the path, touching the leaves, tracing the vines that climb the stone walls.
I wonder if Dante ever comes here. Somehow, I can't picture him surrounded by flowers. He's made of harder things—concrete, iron, silence.
I'm halfway down the path when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn quickly, my heart jumping, but it's not him. It's the young guard I saw before, the one who wouldn't look me in the eye.
He stops a few feet away. "You shouldn't be out here alone," he says.
"I needed air."
He glances around, his hand resting near the weapon at his hip. "This part of the property isn't watched as closely."
"Watched?"
He hesitates, then lowers his voice. "There are cameras everywhere else. Not here. That's why I'm assigned to this side."
"So, you're watching me now."
He looks uncomfortable. "It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
He takes a breath. "Mr. Moreau doesn't trust easily. Especially not after what happened last month."
"What happened?"
He shakes his head. "It's not my place to say."
I step closer. "Please. I've been here for days and no one tells me anything."
He hesitates for a long moment before saying quietly, "Someone tried to get in. Not the police, not reporters. Someone dangerous. They didn't make it far."
A chill runs down my spine. "And Dante?"
"He handled it."
Handled it. The way he says those words makes my stomach twist. I don't ask what that means. I already know I don't want the details.
When I turn to leave, I notice something carved into the stone wall near the roses. It's faint, worn down by time, but I can still read it: Silence keeps you alive.
The words look old, like they've been there for years.
Back inside, I find Rosa waiting in the hallway. She looks relieved when she sees me.
"There you are," she says. "I was about to look for you."
"I just went to the garden."
Her smile fades. "Next time, tell someone before you go outside. Not all the walls here protect you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She hesitates. "It means you're not invisible, Arden. People talk. People watch."
I fold my arms. "You mean the people who wanted Liam dead?"
Her eyes widen slightly. "So he told you."
"Some of it."
She sighs. "Then you know enough to understand that the world he came from doesn't forget. You're safer with Dante than without him."
I want to argue, but the truth sits heavy in my chest. Safe isn't the same as free. But maybe freedom doesn't exist for people like me anymore.
Later that afternoon, I find myself near the library. The door is open, and I can hear someone inside. When I peek in, Dante is standing near the window, talking on the phone. His tone is low and sharp, every word controlled.
"Yes," he says. "I'm aware of the risk. Do it anyway."
A pause. Then his voice hardens. "If he shows his face again, you know what to do."
He ends the call and sets the phone down. I take a small step back, but the floor creaks under my foot.
"Come in," he says without turning.
I freeze. He doesn't sound angry, but he doesn't sound surprised either.
I step inside slowly. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop."
"I know," he says. "You're just curious."
I cross my arms. "Should I not be?"
He looks at me finally, his eyes steady. "Curiosity is dangerous in my world."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have brought me into it."
Something flickers across his face, but he hides it quickly. "Maybe I shouldn't have."
He sits down at the table and gestures to the chair across from him. "Sit."
I do, but my hands twist together in my lap. I can't help noticing the faint lines of exhaustion on his face, the shadows under his eyes. He looks less like a monster today, more like a man who's been fighting too long.
"You looked through the files yesterday," he says.
It's not a question.
"Yes," I admit. "I had to know."
"And now that you do?"
"I don't know what to feel."
"Good," he says softly. "Feelings make you think twice."
"That's easy for you to say," I whisper. "You're not the one who was sold."
He leans forward. "Don't mistake me for someone untouched by betrayal."
The quiet between us stretches. He looks away first. "You should know something else about Liam."
My chest tightens. "What now?"
"He didn't sell you to me directly. He lost you in a game."
I stare at him. "A game?"
"Cards. Poker. High stakes. He thought he could win his way out of debt. When he lost, he offered you as collateral for one last hand."
I feel sick. "That's not possible."
"It is. I was there."
The words hit like ice. "You were there?"
He nods slowly. "I didn't take the offer. Someone else did. I stepped in before they could collect."
My voice comes out a whisper. "Why?"
He looks at me for a long time before answering. "Because there are things even men like me don't allow."
For a second, I can't breathe. I don't know whether to thank him or hate him more.
He stands, runs a hand through his hair, then says quietly, "You shouldn't have had to learn this way."
"I shouldn't have had to learn it at all."
He nods once. "You're right."
I expect him to leave, but he stays there, his gaze distant. The silence between us isn't cold anymore—it's heavy with everything we can't say.
Finally, he speaks again. "Rosa will start teaching you how to move around the estate safely. There are areas you shouldn't go. There are names you shouldn't mention. You'll listen, understand?"
I nod, though part of me wants to scream.
"Good," he says. "And Arden… stop going through my files."
"I'll try," I say quietly.
He almost smiles. "You won't."
He leaves then, and I'm alone with the sound of rain against the window again.
That night, I find myself standing at my window, staring into the dark garden. The words carved into the stone come back to me: Silence keeps you alive.
Maybe that's the rule of this house. Maybe that's how Dante has survived all these years—by keeping everything locked inside, even the parts of himself that still feel human.
But as I stand there, watching the faint light flicker from his study window across the courtyard, I realize something else.
Silence may keep you alive, but it also keeps you trapped. And I'm done being someone else's secret.
Tomorrow, I'll start asking questions again.
Even if the answers hurt.