The Devil’s Bride

Chapter 18: Isolation protocol

Moore’s POV

It took me nearly twenty minutes just to swing my legs over the edge of the mattress. My body felt heavily depleted, a hollow shell of ache and exhaustion. When my feet finally made contact with the floor, a sharp, familiar sting flared up from my torn arches. The blood had dried into stiff, dark scabs overnight, but the deep bruising underneath made every ounce of pressure feel like walking on broken glass.

Slowly, dragging my weight along the edge of the furniture, I made my way into the grand master bathroom.

The room was a cathedral of white quartz, gold fixtures, and massive, mocking mirrors. I stopped in front of the vanity, gripping the cool edges of the stone countertop to stabilize my shaking knees, and finally forced myself to look at my reflection.

The girl staring back at me looked entirely unrecognizable.

My face was starkly pale, my skin translucent against the dark circles bruising the skin beneath my eyes. My hair was a tangled, wild mess, clinging to the back of my neck from the leftover residue of the fever. But my gaze drifted down.

Slowly, with a trembling hand, I pulled the collar of the silk nightgown down past my ribs, exposing my lower left abdomen.

The skin was angry, raised, and heavily inflamed. Etched boldly into the pale flesh, tracing right down toward my hip bone, were his initials.

*E.V.*

A deep, suffocating sob caught in my throat, transforming into a ragged cough. Seeing it in the bright, unforgiving bathroom light made the horror completely permanent. I wasn't just trapped by a ten-million-dollar financial wire or a signed piece of legal paper anymore. He had literally carved his claim into my flesh. Every time I undressed, every time I bathed, every time I breathed, I would be forced to look at the exact mark of the man who owned me.

I gripped the counter tighter, closing my eyes until the tears spilled over my lashes, burning down my cheeks.

I have to find someone to talk to my mind whispered in a sudden, desperate panic. Anyone. Nina. Connor. I need someone to look at me like a human being again before I completely lose my mind.

Bracing myself against the physical pain in my feet, I limped back into the bedroom. It was past noon, the hour when Nina usually brought up a small tray of tea or checked to see if I needed anything.

I reached the massive double doors, turning the heavy gold handle with a racing pulse. I cracked it open, peeking out into the long, corridor.

The hallway was entirely empty. The quiet was deafening.

"Nina?" I called out, my voice a fragile, raspy whisper that barely traveled a few feet.

There was no response. Usually, I would hear the distant, comforting sound of her cart, or the soft scuff of her uniform flats against the runners. Nothing.

Determined to find her, I stepped out into the hallway, using the wood-paneled walls for support as I made my agonizingly slow way down toward the guest wing where the housekeeping closets were located. Every step left a dull ache in my core, the fresh ink stretching painfully against my skin.

When I reached the grand staircase overlooking the main foyer, I paused, looking down through the ornate iron railings.

A tall woman dressed in a stark, severe black housekeeper's uniform was dusting the grand piano. It wasn't Nina. It was Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper—a woman who had worked for the Vance family for over two decades and possessed all the warmth of a corporate contract.

"Mrs. Gable?" I called down, my hand gripping the cold iron rail.

The older woman paused, straightening her posture, and looked up at me with a completely neutral, professional expression. "Good afternoon, Madam Moore. You should be in bed resting. Mr. Vance gave strict instructions that you are to remain isolated until your medical recovery is complete."

"Where is Nina?" My heart began to hammer erratically against my ribs. "I—I need her to help me with the linens."

"Nina has been permanently reassigned to the secondary estate properties in the east wing," Mrs. Gable replied smoothly, her voice entirely empty of emotion. "She will no longer be servicing the master suite. I will be personally delivering your dietary trays from this point forward."

A heavy weight dropped into the pit of my stomach. Ethan hadn't just threatened it; he had executed it. He had removed the only woman who had shown me a single drop of mercy

"And... and the security staff?" I choked out, the words burning my throat. "The guard from the …Connor. I need to ask him about..." I trailed off, unable to form a coherent lie.

Mrs. Gable's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of assessment crossing her face before her mask returned.

"Connor’s employment contract with Vance Global Security was terminated at dawn, Madam. His security clearance has been revoked, and his personal belongings have already been cleared from the estate grounds. He is no longer permitted within a three-mile radius of this property."

My grip slipped slightly on the iron railing. My knees felt entirely hollow.

"Terminated?" I whispered.

"Mr. Vance does not tolerate staff members who forget their exact job descriptions," Mrs. Gable said coldly, turning back to her work without another word. "Your lunch tray will be up in fifteen minutes, Madam. Please return to your quarters."

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

I turned around and stumbled back toward the master bedroom, the physical pain in my bleeding feet entirely eclipsed by the sheer, paralyzing terror settling deep into my chest.

Connor was gone. Nina was gone.

Ethan had completely wiped the chessboard clean. He had stripped away every single human buffer between his darkness and my fragile soul. I was entirely alone in this multi-million-dollar fortress, locked inside a luxury cage with the very monster who had branded me as his personal property.

I closed the bedroom doors behind me, the lock clicking into place with a horrifyingly final sound. I sank down against the wood, sliding to the floor, and buried my face in my hands as the suffocating reality of my isolation completely crashed over me.

There was no rescue coming from the outside.

I was entirely at his whim.