The Blood Stained Bride

Between Luxury and Loss

ALISA'S POV

The air felt lighter with Caden gone. His absence was like a dark cloud finally moving out of the way, leaving room for me to breathe. Charles was waiting at the curb of my old apartment, his face as expressionless and stony as ever. Mabel was already beside me, vibrating with a nervous kind of excitement. She clutched her worn-out purse like it was a shield against the world we were about to enter.

"Are you ready, Mabel?" I asked, trying to offer a reassuring smile despite the knot in my own stomach.

"I’m ready to see if this 'psychopath' of yours actually bought me a palace or a prison," she whispered as we climbed into the back of the black sedan.

We drove to a part of the city I usually only saw in movies. The buildings here were made of polished steel and glass, reaching up so high they seemed to pierce the clouds. Charles pulled up to a high-rise that looked brand new, the glass reflecting the morning sun. A woman in a sharp, grey power suit was waiting under a gold-trimmed awning.

"Miss Jacobs? Miss Mabel? I’m Elena, the interior coordinator," the woman said, her voice smooth as silk. She didn't wait for us to speak before leading us toward a set of private elevators.

When the doors opened on the top floor, Mabel actually gasped. The entire floor was one giant, open space, flooded with natural light from floor-to-ceiling windows. It was empty of furniture, but the "bones" of the place were breathtaking. The city stretched out below us like a toy map.

"Mr. Williams requested that you finalize the details today," Elena said, clicking her pen. She led us toward a massive kitchen area that looked like it belonged in a magazine. "For the island, would you prefer the white Carrara marble or the dark charcoal granite for the countertops?"

Mabel ran her hand over the smooth, unfinished surface, her eyes wide. "I... I’ve never even owned a marble cutting board, let alone a whole island."

"The white marble looks cleaner," I suggested, nudging her playfully. "Go for the white, Mabel. It makes the room look bigger."

"White it is," Elena noted, scribbling on her clipboard. She moved toward the massive windows. "Now, for the frames. We can do brushed gold or a matte black. And the curtains—Mr. Williams mentioned you like privacy, so we have automated blackout silk in pearl or slate grey."

Mabel looked at me, her mouth hanging open. "Alisa, I feel like I'm dreaming. Is he serious? Automated curtains?"

"Looks like he’s very serious," I said, looking out at the view. We spent the next hour walking through every room. Elena asked about everything—the type of wood for the bedroom floors, the style of the gold light fixtures in the hallway, even the depth of the soaking tub in the master bathroom.

"Do you want the rain-shower head or the waterfall style?" Elena asked, pointing to a shower stall that was literally bigger than my entire old kitchen.

"Waterfall," Mabel said, her voice finally gaining some confidence. "I definitely want the waterfall."

"Good choice," Elena smiled. "Everything will be installed and ready for move-in by next week. Mr. Williams has already cleared the security team for the lobby."

As we walked back to the elevator, Mabel grabbed my hand and squeezed it so hard it hurt. "Alisa, this is insane. I don't know if I should thank him or be terrified of what he wants in return."

"He wants us to play our part," I said softly as the elevator descended. "And if this keeps you safe and out of the line of fire, then we'll just have to play it."

"Yeah... you're right," Mabel sighed, leaning her head against the elevator wall.

Elena walked us back to the car where Charles was waiting. "It was a pleasure, ladies. I'll send the final drafts to Mr. Williams’ office for approval immediately."

Once the car door shut, Mabel let out a huge breath that she seemed to have been holding the whole time. "Okay. I’ve seen enough luxury for one morning. My brain is melting."

"Well, you haven't seen anything yet. You really need to see that man's actual house," I said, thinking of the white stone castle.

"You're moving in tomorrow, right?" Mabel asked. Her voice sounded small and a little sad, a complete shift from her excitement earlier.

"Yeah... but I'm not locked up there forever, Mabel," I joked, squeezing her hand. "I’m just a guest. A very... high-stakes guest."

"I know, I know," she whispered. "I just feel like I'll see less of you once you move into that fortress."

"What! Don't be crazy," I laughed, though a part of me feared she was right.

"I can take you to visit her whenever you want, ma'am," Charles said suddenly from the front seat.

Mabel and I exchanged a shocked look. We hadn't expected him to chime in.

"Thank you, Charles, but I believe you work for Miss Alisa, not me," Mabel said, trying to keep her boundaries.

"You're right, ma'am," Charles replied simply.

"What he means is, I'll visit you every single time I get a chance," I promised. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily."

"You better!" Mabel said, folding her arms across her chest in that stubborn way she always did. "You can help me pack my remaining things tonight."

"Of course, I’d love that," I said.

Charles took us back to my apartment. The transition from the glass penthouse to my small, cramped space was jarring. Mabel and I spent the rest of the day packing the last of my life into cardboard boxes. Books, old clothes, photos—everything was being taped up and labeled.

"I think that's everything," I said, standing in the middle of the living room and looking around at the empty shelves.

"We did good," Mabel said, though she looked just as tired as I felt.

"Yeah... we did," I muttered.

A wave of sadness hit me so hard I had to sit down on one of the boxes. It felt like I was giving up my life. It wasn't just about moving houses; it was about giving up my freedom and my identity to a man who saw me as a tool. It broke me physically to see my whole world reduced to a few boxes.

Mabel noticed immediately. She managed to crawl over the huge boxes piled between us to give me a tight hug.

"Come on, Alisa. It’s too late for those tears," she said softly, rubbing my arm. "You're doing this for a reason. You're strong."

I reached into the back pocket of my trousers, pulled out a crumpled tissue, and wiped away the tears before they could fall. I couldn't afford to be weak now. Not when the real game was about to start.

I cleared my throat and stood up. "You're right. Let's get these to the car," I said, picking up the nearest box. "The sooner I move in, the sooner we can get this over with.”