Adeline learned the rules without anyone stating them.She learned them by watching.By noticing how the guards shifted when Donovan passed. How Ethan never spoke unless spoken to. How doors opened for some people and stayed firmly shut for others.And how everything—everything—moved according to Donovan's will.The garden became her only permitted freedom.It was vast, meticulously kept, flowers arranged with almost obsessive precision. Adeline walked its paths slowly, always aware of the men stationed just far enough away to pretend she was alone.She wasn't.She never would be.Yet the open sky did something dangerous—it made her forget, just for moments, that escape was impossible.That was when Donovan appeared again.He didn't interrupt her walk.He joined it."You favor the far side," he said calmly, falling into step beside her.Adeline stiffened but didn't stop. "It's quieter.""Lies," Donovan replied. "It's where the walls feel furthest away."Her jaw tightened. "You've been watching me.""I watch everything that belongs to me."The words should have angered her.Instead, they unsettled her.They walked in silence for a while. The sound of gravel beneath their steps felt too intimate in the quiet."Why me?" she asked suddenly.Donovan glanced at her. "You've asked that before.""And you never answered."He stopped walking.Adeline hesitated, then stopped too."You weren't afraid of me," he said. "Not in the way others are."She scoffed softly. "That's not true.""It is," Donovan insisted. "You feared what I could do. But you didn't beg. You didn't collapse. You didn't pretend obedience." His eyes darkened. "You hated me honestly."Her chest tightened. "And that makes me special?""It makes you real."The word lingered between them.Dangerously close."You're trying to humanize yourself," she said quietly.Donovan smiled faintly. "No. I'm humanizing you."She took a step back. "I won't fall for this.""For what?""This—" she gestured helplessly "—this illusion. The garden. The room. These conversations."Donovan stepped closer, invading her space just enough to remind her who he was."You already have," he said softly. "You just don't know how yet."Fear stirred—but it wasn't sharp.It was confused.That frightened her more."You could kill me," she whispered."Yes.""You could let me go.""No."The certainty in his voice was chilling."Why?" she asked again.Donovan studied her for a long moment, then spoke quietly. "Because if I let you go, you would take something with you."Her pulse raced. "What?""My restraint."The admission felt heavier than any threat.Ethan's presence broke the moment.He approached briskly, eyes flicking briefly to Adeline before settling on Donovan. "We have a situation."Donovan straightened instantly, the softness gone. "Handle it.""It concerns her," Ethan added.Adeline's breath caught.Donovan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Explain."Ethan hesitated. "Someone has been asking questions again."Adeline felt the ground tilt beneath her feet. "Rory?"Ethan nodded once.Silence descended.Donovan turned slowly to Adeline.There was no anger in his eyes.That was worse."You see," he said calmly, "this is why distance is necessary."Her voice shook. "I told her to stop.""And yet," Donovan replied, "hope is stubborn."He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear."This time," he said, "I won't punish curiosity."Her heart pounded. "Then what will you do?"He met her gaze steadily."I'll punish attachment."Ethan looked away.Adeline's knees weakened.Donovan turned and walked back toward the villa without another word.Adeline stood frozen among the flowers, the sky bright above her, beauty surrounding her like a lie.And for the first time, she understood the truth she had been avoiding:Donovan was not forcing her to stay.He was making the world outside her cage too dangerous to return to.
