Chapter4
1400 Words
The handle turned slowly .
Not forced .
Not rushed .
As if whoever stood outside knew there was no need to hurry .
Her body locked instantly . Every muscle went rigid , breath trapped painfully in her chest . She sat upright in bed , fingers digging into the sheets , eyes fixed on the door like it might suddenly decide to swallow her whole .
The latch clicked .
The door opened only a few inches .
Light spilled into the room from the hallway , cutting a thin line across the floor .
“Mrs. Blackwood ,” the voice said again—low , calm , unmistakably male .
Not Vincent .
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs .
“Yes?” she managed , her voice barely audible .
The door opened wider .
A man stood there—tall , broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark suit that looked more functional than fashionable . An earpiece curved discreetly around his ear . His expression was neutral, professional , empty of anything personal .
“Security ,” he said . “Mr. Blackwood requested a check .”
A check .
Her fingers trembled . “A… check?”
“Yes, ma’am .” His gaze flicked briefly over the room—not lingering , not invasive , but thorough .
“Routine .”
Routine .
She nodded quickly , because refusing didn’t feel like an option .
“Of course .”
He stepped just inside the doorway , careful to keep his distance , as if even he understood there were lines—thin ones , but still lines .
“Are you alone?” he asked .
“Yes .”
“Are you feeling unwell ?”
“No .”
“Do you feel unsafe ?”
The question caught her off guard .
Unsafe .
Her mouth opened—and closed again .
What was the right answer ?
She thought of the gates closing .
The rules .
The way Vincent’s voice had sounded when he said you do not disappear .
“I’m… fine,” she said finally .
The man studied her for a brief moment, then nodded .
“I’ll inform him ,” he said .
Inform him .
As if everything about her now belonged in a report .
The guard stepped back , closing the door quietly behind him .
The click echoed through the room like a verdict .
She didn’t sleep after that .
Morning came without relief .
When the alarm sounded at seven-thirty—soft, melodic , pre-programmed—she startled awake as if she had been sleeping , though she hadn’t . Her body ached with exhaustion , her head heavy and dull .
She showered quickly , using the toiletries laid out neatly on the counter . Everything smelled expensive . Everything felt impersonal .
She chose the simplest dress she could find in the wardrobe that had been prepared for her—neutral , modest , careful . She didn’t want to draw attention . She didn’t want to do anything wrong .
Downstairs , the dining room was bright with morning light .
Vincent was already there .
He sat at the long table, tablet in one hand , coffee untouched beside him . He didn’t look up when she entered .
“Sit ,” he said .
She obeyed immediately , taking the chair across from him . The distance felt intentional—measured .
Food was laid out between them , more than she could ever eat .
She hesitated .
“Eat ,” he said without looking at her .
She picked up her fork with unsteady fingers and began to eat slowly , every bite a conscious effortb.
“You didn’t sleep ,” he said .
Her fork paused midair . “I—I slept .”
Another lie .
He finally looked at her then .
“You’re lying ,” he said calmly .
Her chest tightened . “I’m sorry .”
His jaw clenched . “Tell me why .”
She swallowed hard . “Someone came to my door last night .”
His eyes sharpened instantly . “Who .”
“Security . He said it was a check .”
Silence fell .
Vincent leaned back slightly , his expression darkening—not with anger , but with something colder .
“That was not scheduled ,” he said .
Her stomach dropped .
“Did he enter your room?” he asked .
“Only a little ,” she whispered . “He didn’t touch anything . He just… asked questions .”
Vincent’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table .
“That won’t happen again ,” he said flatly .
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or afraid .
He studied her for a long moment .
“You didn’t object ,” he said .
It wasn’t an accusation . It was an observation .
“I didn’t know I could ,” she replied honestly .
Something flickered across his face then—brief, sharp, dangerous.
“You can ,” he said . “You are my wife . No one enters your space without my authorization .”
Her heart skipped .
“Even security?” she asked softly .
“Especially security .”
She nodded , absorbing that carefully .
Vincent stood abruptly . “You’ll accompany me today .”
Her breath caught . “Where?”
“A public appearance ,” he said . “You’ll learn quickly .”
—----------
She followed him out , tension coiled tight in her chest .
The cameras were waiting .
Flashes exploded the moment they stepped into the light—voices calling his name , questions shouted over one another .
Vincent’s hand closed around hers .
Firm . Possessive . Protective .
Her body reacted before her mind could—she leaned into him instinctively, clinging to the only thing anchoring her in the chaos .
The crowd loved it .
“Mr. Blackwood! Is this your wife?”
“How long have you been married ?”
“She’s beautiful !”
Vincent smiled for the cameras .
A perfect , polished expression .
“Yes ,” he said smoothly . “This is my wife .”
His grip tightened slightly , a silent warning .
She smiled too—soft , obedient , terrified .
That night , back in the house , she stood alone in her room again , the day replaying endlessly in her mind .
Publicly cherished .
Privately contained .
A soft knock sounded .
She froze .
“Mrs. Blackwood ,” came Vincent’s voice from the other side .
“Yes ?”
“Open the door .”
Her fingers shook as she obeyed .
He stepped inside, closing it behind him .
“I watched you today ,” he said quietly .
Her pulse raced . “Did I… do something wrong?”
“No ,” he replied . “You did exactly what I needed .”
She didn’t know why that scared her more than criticism .
He took a step closer .
“You felt safe holding onto me ,” he said.
It wasn’t a question .
She lowered her gaze . “Yes .”
“That ,” he said slowly , “is something we need to address .”
Her breath hitched .
“Because ,” he continued, eyes dark and intent , “dependence can become dangerous .”
He reached out and lifted her chin gently—forcing her to look at him .
“For both of us .”
—-----------
His phone vibrated .
He glanced at the screen—and his expression hardened instantly .
“Someone ,” he said coldly , “has been asking questions about you .”
Her heart dropped .
“Questions ?” she whispered .
Vincent met her gaze .
“And I don’t like ,” he added , “when people remember things I’ve buried .”
- Writer
