I don't look at anything displayed or in my hands. The racks of designer dresses and heels no longer matter to me. I keep both heels back on the rack and walk out of the shop. Elena follows me. Before she asks, I tell her. "Let's go back. Not feeling it."
The ride back to the mansion is quiet, except for the hum of the engine. Elena doesn't ask questions, which is probably smart. I am not in the mood to fake small talk.
The moment we step inside, the cold and gothic decor of this mansion overwhelms me, and I realize that it can never feel like home. I go straight to my room. Doesn't bother to change. Don't bother eating, and on top of that, not a single knock on my door. No one comes here to check. Not even Lucien.
I don't know why I am even thinking about Lucien coming. I am not a guest here. I am his captive. I pace by the massive window, arms wrapped tight around myself. The view is a postcard; autumn leaves scatter like fire on the lawns, and the fountain is still running in the crisp air, but it feels wrong. Inside is a cage dipped in gold, but outside is a betrayal for me.
My thoughts keep circling back to the same faces. Autumn talked to me like nothing happened. No guilt at all. Ethan used to tease me all these years while laughing. "One day I am gonna kick you outta Brooks mansion, sister." I used to throw my head back and laugh then, telling him he was an idiot. Guess the joke is on me now.
And Cole. God, Cole. The love of my life didn't even pick up the damn phone when the storm hit. No explanations. No visits. No fight for me. Just silence. Dylan, my childhood friend who I assumed was family all my life, stood there and watched my funeral.
The bitterness sits heavy in my chest, like a stone I can't spit out. I press my palm to the mirror. My reflection stares back at me. I don't feel like Anaya Brooks anymore. I still can't believe that one minute, I was running the show, walking into my business with my head high. The next minute, I was shoving out, my name whispered like a curse in the same halls and corridors that once praised me. And now?
I am here, in a mansion bigger than anything I have ever owned. But strip off every ounce of power.
Lucien told me that I am safe in this mansion, but I am confused. Has he ever heard of containment control?
The silence of the place is starting to get under my skin. It feels like the walls themselves are holding their breath. My mind wanders about survival, how to keep myself together in this world I have been shoved into. The dark mafia world isn't new to me; I mean, I have watched movies and also read novels. But living in it? Feels like a curse wrapped in glittery gold.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, hands clasped tight. I can't let anyone see me break. Not even Lucien. I have been blindsided once by family, by love, and by trust. Never again.
My eyes drift to the door of my room. They are close now, but I know they are not locked. Still, I am not free.
Not yet.
After midnight, I slip out of my room without a plan, just a gnawing need to move around. To get away from the four walls that have been swallowing me whole. At night, the mansion has slipped into another dark, still, and cold world, enough to raise goosebumps on my body.
I walk past the gilded frames and heavy curtains; a warning always lingers in the air of the mansion. That is when I see it, resting on a console table near the stairwell. A phone.
I walk closer, look left, and then right. Silence. But here, silence doesn't mean I am alone. I know about the cameras. Lucien's eyes and ears are everywhere. My fingers twitch.
I hesitate for a second longer, chewing my lip, and then I screw it; I snatch the phone like I am stealing candy. My pulse races as I walk quickly to the corner, thumbing in my old login for Instagram.
The app opens, and I forget to breathe.
Cole's face fills the screen, smiling that smile that used to belong to me. He is on his yacht somewhere, sunglasses on, surrounded by people I don't recognize. Champagne in hand. Another photo of him at a rooftop party, arm slinging casually around some woman I have never seen before. His caption. Living my best life.
My heart sinks, the weight of it pressing into my ribs. Not a single post hints at my existence. No shadows of our memories. No grief. No sign I have even been a part of his life. He looks untouched. Like I have been erased clean out of his life. My throat is burning. I swipe again, torturing myself with more proof that he is thriving while I am trapped here like a damn prisoner.
It isn't until I feel it, the shift in the air, that I realize I am not alone. A slow, deliberate sound cut through the silence. Footsteps. I jerk up my head.
Lucien is here, standing barely a few feet away, a shadow against the low light. My eyes are locked on me, nostrils flared, jaw tight. The stillness around him is worse than yelling; it is that kind of calm that means trouble.
My grip on the phone falters. "I..." I get myself together to talk, but then he steps closer. I can't talk.
"You have failed in your test," Lucien says, his voice is low and precise. It isn't just a statement; it is a verdict that this failure won't go without consequences. My stomach knots.
I don't understand what he is talking about. I have no strength to ask him.
He takes the phone from my hand with deliberate slowness, his fingers brushing mine just enough to make my skin prickle. His blue eyes are not leaving mine, not even for a second.
"You need to forget your old life, Anaya." His voice is quiet, but it carries like a knife through the air. "You are mine now. You belong to this world."
I feel the sting in my chest long after he is gone, not just from the warning but from the truth in his words.
"If I kill Cole, Anaya...this will be on you." Lucien talks about ending a human life as casually as if he were talking about what he had for lunch.
How the hell does he know what I have just seen?