Claimed by one billionaire saved by another

CHAPTER TEN

SYLVIE POV

The dream was a blur of cold rain and the sound of something heavy scraping against concrete. I was running, but my legs felt like lead. Every time I turned around, the shadows grew longer, reaching for my throat. I tried to scream, but my lungs were filled with water, heavy and suffocating.

I snapped awake with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My nightshirt was plastered to my skin, soaked through with a cold, frantic sweat that made me feel oily and frantic. I stayed still for a long time, staring into the dark, waiting for the smell of the damp alley to leave my nose.

I felt filthy. I needed to get the grime of the nightmare off me.

I swung my legs off the side of the bed, my bare feet sinking into the carpet. It was so thick and soft that it felt like it was trying to swallow my ankles. I didn't stand up right away; I just sat there, my toes buried in the expensive wool, feeling the sharp contrast to the hard, cold concrete of my dreams.

The room was too big, the ceiling so high I couldn't see the corners. Mrs. Holloway, the woman with the kind eyes who had run the bath for me earlier, had left hours ago. I was alone in the dead of night.

I padded toward the bathroom, my feet making no sound on the heavy rugs. The bathroom was white and cold. It looked like a room made of bone. I walked toward the shower. It was a tall box of glass with no handles to pull or knobs to turn.

I stood in front of a flat silver panel. Small shapes glowed on the surface, something was round and had a star shape and a row of dots. I tapped the round one, but nothing happened. I pressed harder, but my finger left a wet smudge on the perfect metal. I remembered hearing Mrs. Holloway in here earlier. She moved with a quick, easy rhythm. She had hummed a song while the water roared behind the glass. Under her hands, the room had been warm and full of steam.

Now, the house was empty, and I was alone with a machine that wouldn't speak to me, so I turned to a small dial on the right. A soft click echoed against the marble walls, and a thin blue light flickered on, but the shower stayed dry.

“Please,” I whispered to the wall, my voice cracking.

I felt a lump form in my throat, and I just wanted to be clean. I poked at the star icon, and a sharp burst of icy mist sprayed from somewhere above, striking my face and collarbone. I gasped and stumbled back, wiping at my skin. The system responded with a low mechanical hum, like it was alive and unimpressed.

Heat rose to my cheeks. Not from the cold but from the humiliation.

I tried another control, and something shifted behind the walls with a muted whir. The ceiling vibrated faintly. It felt less like preparing for a shower and more like attempting to operate a machine I wasn’t qualified to touch.

The blue light on the panel turned a mean, angry red. The walls began to buzz, and the floor under my bare feet shook. Suddenly, a sharp hiss filled the air. A spray of freezing mist shot out from the ceiling, hitting my skin like tiny needles of ice.

“Ah!” I shrieked, jumping back. My heel slipped on the wet stone floor. I went down hard, my shoulder hitting the marble wall with a sickening thud before I tumbled onto the floor.

I stayed there, curled in a ball. The mist kept hissing, filling the glass box with a ghostly, freezing fog. The humiliation was worse than the bruise forming on my arm. A sob pushed its way out of my throat, and I sat there in the middle of the bone-white room and cried, my shoulders shaking.

A shadow fell across the doorway.

I looked up through my tears. Kael was standing there. He didn't look worried. He just stood with his hands in his pockets, watching me as if I were a puzzle he didn't feel like solving yet.

"What happened?" he asked. His voice was flat, as dry as the air outside the shower.

"I... I just wanted a bath," I choked out, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I couldn't make it work. It bit me."

He didn't offer a hand to help me up. He simply walked over to the silver panel. His movements were slow and steady. He tapped a sequence of icons—the sun, then the dots—and turned the dial with a soft click.

Immediately, the angry buzzing stopped. The freezing mist vanished, replaced by a thick, heavy stream of steaming water. It hit the floor with a warm, inviting roar. The room began to fill with the smell of expensive soap and heat.

"It's set now," Kael said. He looked at me one last time, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Don't touch the panel again."

He turned and walked out, leaving the door ajar.

I finished my bath, the warm water finally washing away the smell of the alley. When I was done, I wrapped myself in a robe that felt too heavy and stepped out into the hall. I wanted to find him. I wanted to say thank you, even if he was cold. I needed to feel like I wasn't just a ghost in his house.

I followed the smell of sugar to the kitchen. The stack of cookies sat on the island, golden and warm. I ate two, the sweetness making my head spin with a blurry, half-remembered dream of a wooden table and a blue ribbon.

Then, I saw the green light at the end of the hall.

I pushed the door to the office open. It was a room full of books and shadows. I walked to the massive desk, looking for a name—my name. But all I found was the silver frame, lying face-down in the dark.

I flipped it over.

Two children looked back at me. A boy with Kael’s serious eyes and a little girl with a gap in her teeth. I stared at the boy's sharp jaw. Are these his children? I wondered.

The girl in the photo was laughing. She looked like she belonged in the sun. I touched the glass over her face, trying to feel a spark of something, but there was nothing. I was just a stranger in a house full of secrets.

A floorboard groaned behind me.

“You shouldn't be in here, Sylvie.”

I spun around, the frame hitting the desk with a loud crack. Kael stood in the doorway, his silhouette tall and dangerous against the light of the hall. He stepped into the light. He didn't look at the photo. He looked straight at me, his eyes dark and completely unreadable. The boy from the garden was gone, replaced by a man who looked like he was made of stone.

“I was just...” I started, my voice failing me.

“Go back to your room,” he said quietly. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order.

I didn't argue. I hurried past him, my skin prickling as I felt his gaze on my back. I ran all the way to the East Wing and shut the door, locking it behind me.

I leaned against the wood, gasping for air. Am I really safe

here? Why is he so cold towards me?