The mansion had changed.
It was subtle at first — an extra camera in the hallway, a new guard outside the east wing, restricted access to the lower floors. But within a week, it was unmistakable.
Matthew was doubling the security.
Every corner of the estate now hummed with invisible eyes: drones circling the perimeter, surveillance feeds looping across monitors, biometric locks replacing ordinary doors. The house that once felt like luxury now felt like a cage made of glass and gold.
Vinny could feel it pressing in on him — every step monitored, every word overheard. He couldn't even breathe without wondering who was listening.
At breakfast, the silence was unbearable.
Matthew sat at the head of the long marble table, dressed in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. The band of grief around his wrist — his mother's locket tied with a dark ribbon — was the only sign he hadn't entirely buried the pain.
He ate slowly, mechanically, eyes flicking occasionally toward the window. Not at Vinny. Never at Vinny.
Vinny pushed his plate away. "You added guards near the greenhouse."
Matthew didn't look up. "Observation."
"Observation of who? Me?"
Finally, Matthew's eyes lifted — calm, but sharp enough to cut. "I told you before, Vinny. After what happened, I can't take chances."
Vinny leaned back, crossing his arms. "You mean after your mother died. After someone tampered with your lab—someone who could only do that from the inside."
Matthew's jaw tightened. "Exactly."
"So now you don't trust anyone."
"I trust you," Matthew said quietly.
The words hung in the air — fragile and dangerous.
Vinny's heart stuttered. "Do you?"
Matthew's gaze softened just slightly. "You're still here, aren't you?"
Vinny's throat went dry. He didn't answer.
After a long pause, Matthew rose from his seat, his movements smooth and deliberate. "Stay in the east wing today. There are things I need to handle."
Vinny's eyes narrowed. "And if I don't?"
Matthew's lips twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile. "Then the locks will handle it for me."
He left without another word.
By evening, the house felt heavier.
Vinny wandered through the east wing, trying to ignore the quiet hum of security drones as they glided along the hall. He caught his reflection in one of the tall mirrors — eyes tired, expression guarded.
You're losing your grip, he thought. And he's tightening his.
He paused outside the study. The door was locked. So was the lab entrance. Even the garden doors now required keycard access — keycards Vinny didn't have anymore.
Matthew had taken them all.
Vinny exhaled and turned toward his room, shoulders slumped. The mansion stretched endlessly — quiet halls, polished floors, the faint smell of rain drifting in through the high windows. Somewhere, a piano played — soft, distant, ghostly.
It used to feel like a home.
Now it felt like a stage, and he was the only one who didn't know the script.
He pushed open his bedroom door, expecting the familiar dim light, the silk sheets, the faint chill of solitude.
But the room wasn't his.
The curtains were different — heavier, darker. The faint scent of cedar and smoke filled the air. The bed was larger. The lighting softer.
Vinny froze.
This wasn't his room.
It was Matthew's.
He looked around slowly — the glass desk, the collection of books in Latin and Russian, the wall of security screens showing live feeds of the mansion's halls.
Why am I here?
Vinny frowned and turned toward the door. The handle didn't move.
Locked.
He tried again. Nothing.
A cold rush crept up his spine.
He knocked once. "Matthew?" Silence. "Matthew, open the door."
No answer.
He tried harder this time, slamming the palm of his hand against the wood. "This isn't funny!"
The room stayed silent, the only sound the faint buzz of the monitors. Vinny's pulse started to race.
He turned toward the window. Maybe it wasn't too high. Maybe he could—
He froze mid-step.
Something tugged at his ankle.
He looked down.
A chain.
A chain.
It was thin, silver, attached to a lock bolted to the bedframe — sleek, polished, but unmistakable. The cold metal coiled around his left ankle like a serpent.
For a moment, he couldn't even breathe. His body went cold, his throat tight.
He bent down slowly, fingers trembling as he touched the chain. It was real — heavy, solid, unbreakable without tools.
"What the hell…" he whispered.
His pulse hammered in his ears. He followed the chain's length with his eyes — to the bedpost, to the lock, to the small biometric pad beside it.
Matthew's doing.
Of course.
He tried pulling it off, twisting it — no use. The metal barely moved.
The silence was suffocating now. The air felt thinner, colder. He tried calling again, louder this time.
"Matthew! Open the door!" His voice cracked. "I swear to God, if this is your idea of protection—"
The door opened.
Matthew stood there.
Still, quiet, unreadable — dressed in dark slacks, sleeves rolled up, eyes distant. He didn't flinch at the sight of Vinny tugging at the chain.
"I told you to stay in the east wing," he said simply.
Vinny's voice trembled. "You locked me in your room."
"Yes."
"You chained me to your bed."
"Yes."
Vinny stared at him, disbelief flooding through him. "Are you out of your mind?"
Matthew's gaze didn't waver. "You're safe here."
"Safe?" Vinny laughed — sharp and bitter. "This isn't safety, Matthew. This is insane!"
Matthew stepped closer, slow, measured. "You tried to leave yesterday."
"I went to the greenhouse," Vinny shot back. "You can't keep me like some—some pet!"
"I'm keeping you alive," Matthew said, voice calm but ice-cold. "Someone in this house sabotaged the lab. Someone got close enough to her equipment. I won't risk them getting close to you."
Vinny's pulse thundered. "So your solution is to chain me?"
Matthew's jaw clenched. "You don't understand how many people want to hurt me — how many would hurt you to get to me."
Vinny stepped back, but the chain pulled taut with a metallic snap. He glared at Matthew, chest heaving. "You're not protecting me. You're protecting your possession."
Matthew's eyes flickered — a flash of something raw, wounded, and terrifyingly sincere. "You're mine, Vinny," he said quietly. "And I won't lose you too."
The words hit like a blade.
Vinny's throat closed. "You think this is love?"
"It's survival."
"It's obsession."
"Call it whatever you want," Matthew whispered, stepping closer until he was within reach, "but it's the only way I can breathe right now."
Vinny wanted to scream at him. Wanted to push him away. But when Matthew cupped his face, the tremor in his hands betrayed him — this wasn't just control. It was fear. A man clawing to keep what little he had left.
"Matthew…" Vinny said softly, searching his eyes. "You're scaring me."
Matthew's hand fell away. His jaw tensed. "Good."
The word hung there, cold and final.
Then he turned toward the door. "You'll stay here until I can guarantee your safety."
Vinny's voice broke. "And how long will that take?"
"As long as it takes," Matthew said, and left.
The door shut behind him. The lock clicked again.
Vinny stood in the center of the room, heart racing, the chain glinting faintly under the dim light. For the first time, he realized the full weight of what this place had become.
It wasn't protection.
It wasn't safety.
It was a cage — built by grief, locked by obsession, sealed by love that had lost its shape.
He sank to the floor slowly, back against the bedpost, hands shaking. The rain outside started again, soft at first, then heavier.
Each drop against the glass sounded like time slipping away — like freedom fading one heartbeat at a time.