Episode 4
681 Words
Entering the Lion’s Den
Catherine didn’t sleep.
How could she?
The words still haunted her.
You were always meant to be mine.
She sat in silence in the backseat of Sebastian Blackwood’s car, staring out at the city lights rushing past the tinted windows. Her hands rested tightly in her lap, fingers clenched around the silver key he had given her.
Beside her, Sebastian was quiet.
Too quiet.
As if dragging women into forced marriages was just another normal Tuesday for him.
She refused to look at him.
Because every time she did, she remembered the certainty in his eyes.
And it terrified her.
The city slowly changed around them.
The familiar streets disappeared, replaced by private roads, guarded gates, and silence so expensive it felt untouchable.
Then the car stopped.
Catherine looked up.
And forgot how to breathe.
The Blackwood estate stood before her like something out of another world.
Massive iron gates.
Stone walls covered in ivy.
Soft golden lights glowing from tall windows.
It didn’t look like a home.
It looked like a kingdom.
And she was not a queen.
She was a prisoner.
The driver opened the door.
Sebastian stepped out first, adjusting his suit like a man returning from a meeting instead of stealing someone’s future.
Catherine followed slowly.
The night air felt colder here.
Staff lined the entrance, waiting.
Not smiling.
Watching.
The moment she stepped forward, every eye turned to her.
Judging.
Measuring.
Whispering.
She could feel it.
The outsider.
The girl from nowhere.
The wife no one expected.
Sebastian noticed.
Without saying a word, he moved beside her.
Close enough for everyone to understand.
Mine.
The silent message was clear.
A woman in a black uniform stepped forward and bowed slightly.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Blackwood.”
The title hit her like a slap.
Mrs. Blackwood.
It sounded like someone else.
Someone stronger.
Someone who knew what she was doing.
Not her.
Sebastian walked inside, expecting her to follow.
She did.
Because what else was left?
The mansion was even worse inside.
Luxury in every corner.
Marble floors.
Golden light.
Art that probably cost more than her entire life.
Everything was beautiful.
And none of it felt warm.
A woman approached—older, elegant, sharp-eyed.
“Mrs. Bennett,” Sebastian said. “She’ll be staying.”
The woman nodded once.
“I’ve prepared her room.”
Catherine frowned.
Her room?
Not our room?
Some strange part of her hated that thought.
Mrs. Bennett led her upstairs through long quiet hallways until they stopped in front of a large white door.
“This is yours, Madam.”
The room was breathtaking.
Soft lights.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
A walk-in closet bigger than her bedroom at the Hart mansion.
Luxury.
Comfort.
Distance.
She turned.
“Where is Sebastian’s room?”
Mrs. Bennett hesitated.
Then pointed to the door directly across the hall.
Right there.
Close enough to hear.
Close enough to matter.
Catherine nodded slowly.
After the woman left, silence filled the room again.
She stood alone in the center of it, suddenly exhausted.
This was real.
She was here.
She was married.
And somehow, none of it felt like her life.
Her eyes wandered around the room until they landed on a single object sitting on the bedside table.
A framed photograph.
She frowned and picked it up.
At first, it looked ordinary.
An old family gathering.
Elegant people dressed in expensive smiles.
But then—
Her breath caught.
She stepped closer to the lamp.
No.
That couldn’t be right.
There, standing near the edge of the photo…
was a little girl.
Around seven years old.
Messy curls.
Bright eyes.
Holding a toy rabbit.
Catherine.
Her hands trembled.
Impossible.
She had never been here before.
She would remember.
Wouldn’t she?
The door behind her opened.
She turned too quickly.
Sebastian stood there.
His eyes immediately dropped to the photograph in her hands.
And for the first time since meeting him—
He looked shaken.
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Catherine held up the frame.
Her voice barely came out.
“Why am I in this picture?”
- Writer
