Laced with lies

Shadowed Steps

I woke up in a massive white room. To me, it was beautiful maybe because white had always been my favourite colour. I let my eyes wander across every corner, taking in the spotless walls, the elegant furniture, and the silence.

It was perfect.

Too perfect.

Questions stormed through my mind, but there wasn't a single answer. Fear settled deep inside my chest. I wished this was all a nightmare that I'd wake up in my own bed and laugh about it later.

A sharp sting shot through my arm.

I looked down.

A bandage.

My heart skipped.

I was wearing pyjamas.

My blood ran cold.

Who changed my clothes?

A wave of panic crashed over me.

Ignoring the pain in my body, I forced myself out of bed. Every step hurt, but staying still scared me even more. Relief washed over me when I realised no one else was inside the room. But somehow, the silence outside felt even more terrifying.

Am I... kidnapped?

"Oh God," I whispered. "I'm too beautiful to die. I still have so much to do."

Without bothering to make the bed, I slipped into the hallway. The mansion was eerily quiet. My footsteps echoed through the corridor until another sound reached me.

Someone was singing.

Terribly.

The voice was painfully off-key, bouncing off the walls like a ghost trying to remember a melody.

I turned the corner..

and froze.

Standing there was the same man from the mall, wearing nothing but boxer shorts with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Of course it had to be him.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, forcing confidence into my shaky voice. "Are you stalking me?"

He simply stared.

"Excuse me," I snapped. "I asked you a question."

One eyebrow rose lazily.

"Who do you think you are?" he asked. "Harley Quinn?"

"Nah." I folded my arms. "Just someone who can make your life a living hell."

A slow grin spread across his face.

"You think you scare me?"

"Oh, please."

I glared at him.

"Fine. Then tell me where I am. How did I get here? If you don't answer me, I'll scream."

He sighed.

"Scream all you want. Every room in this house is soundproof."

My stomach dropped.

"So... you kidnapped me?"

His expression didn't change.

"So you really don't know?" he asked quietly.

"Duh. If I knew, would I be asking?"

He pulled out his phone and typed something.

"What happened to me?" I asked again, my voice softer this time. "I think I deserve to know."

"You were drugged."

The words hit me like a slap.

Drugged?

By who?

Sean?

No...

Why would Sean do that?

Before I could think any further, his eyes travelled over me.

"What are you wearing?" he asked. "Trying to seduce me?"

My jaw dropped.

"Jerk!" I shouted. "You change my clothes while I'm unconscious, then accuse me of seducing you?"

He shrugged.

"Relax. I'm not into twigs."

I glared at him.

"Besides," he added casually, "it's nothing I haven't seen before."

I looked away, refusing to let him see the heat creeping into my cheeks. I knew I wasn't exactly thick, but I liked my body, and I was confident in it. Let him bark. His opinion meant nothing to me.

"I need toiletries," I muttered.

"The second door on your left."

He turned away.

"I'll wait outside."

Hours crawled by. No phone. No laptop. No one to talk to. The silence was driving me insane. I paced around the room for what felt like the hundredth time, opening every drawer out of pure frustration. That's when I found it.

A gun.

I stared at it for a long moment before carefully placing it back where I had found it.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled me into an uneasy sleep.

...

When I woke up, I'd made up my mind.

Talking clearly wasn't working. Every question earned me another mystery.

If they thought I'd sit here like a princess waiting to be rescued, they were sadly mistaken.

I wasn't spending the rest of my life locked in this mansion.

No way.

If words couldn't set me free, maybe this would.

My eyes drifted back to the gun.

"Well, Shannon," I whispered to myself, forcing a nervous smile, "either this is the smartest thing you've ever done... or the dumbest."

I picked it up anyway.

When the bedroom door finally opened, I raised the gun with shaky hands.

"Don't come any closer."

He quickly pulled out his gun and pointed it at me.

What if he kills me?

I watched his finger resting on the trigger.

Mine did too.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us blinked.

The silence stretched until it became unbearable.

"Shannon," he said quietly. "Don't do this."

"I've given you enough chances." My hands trembled despite my best efforts to hide it. "Tell me the truth."

"We have to leave."

I laughed bitterly.

"What? Afraid the police are coming?"

He slowly raised his own gun.

"If you take one more step," I warned, "I'll shoot."

For the first time, the teasing smile disappeared.

The man standing before me wasn't the flirt from the mall anymore.

He looked dangerous.

"Last chance," he said.

I tightened my grip.

A deafening bang exploded through the room.

The gun flew from my hand and crashed onto the floor.

I gasped, staring at my empty fingers.

"You..." My voice barely worked.

He lowered his weapon.

"You really thought I'd leave a loaded gun in my bedroom?"

My heart pounded violently.

"The gun was planted."

"...What?"

"You were supposed to find it."

I frowned.

"By who?"

His jaw tightened.

"The people who want you dead."

The room suddenly felt too small.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He took a slow breath.

"Your father wasn't the man you believed he was."

"My father was an accountant."

"He lived two lives."

I laughed, but it sounded hollow.

"No."

"He had enemies."

"No."

"They're hunting you."

"No!"

His voice became ice cold.

"You're his heir, Shannon."

I stared at him.

"...What?"

"You're not just his daughter." He held my gaze. "You're his heir."

Then, after a beat-

"You're a mafia princess."

Everything inside me froze.

Dad?

No.

No.

This stranger was lying.

"My father worked hard for this family," I whispered, tears burning my eyes. "If it wasn't for him, I'd be nothing."

I met his gaze.

"You're lying."

He didn't answer.

Somehow, that scared me more.

My knees suddenly felt weak.

Every memory I'd ever shared with my father flashed through my mind, his warm smile, his advice, the way he always made me feel safe.

Had it all been a lie?

Or had I never truly known the man who raised me?