Chapte 2
1094 Words
The soft, silky blanket hugged me as I blinked my eyes open to find myself in a spacious room filled with luxurious furniture and grand decor. The golden chandelier overhead shimmered in the dim light, its intricate design casting elegant shadows across the marble walls. As I sat up, the sheer vastness of the space sent a shiver down my spine. It was a room fit for royalty—a castle.
My breath hitched as my fingers grazed the material of the silky nightgown adorning my body. Horror gripped me when the realization struck—I was no longer in my own clothes. Panic surged through my veins. Who had changed me? My heart pounded against my ribs at the thought of a man seeing me like this. I blamed myself. I should have never fallen asleep. I should have never run into him in the first place.
As I removed the blanket and scanned my body, a wave of helplessness washed over me, and tears blurred my vision. A sob escaped my lips as I curled up, hugging my knees. What was I doing here? Why had he brought me?
The door creaked open. "Madam is awake?!" An elderly maid entered with careful steps, her voice laced with surprise.
She carried a tray with a porcelain bowl and set it down on the bedside table. Her kind, weathered hands reached out to check my forehead for a fever. But I had more pressing concerns.
“Did you change my clothes?” My fingers wrapped around her fragile wrist, my voice barely above a whisper, pleading for honesty.
“Yes, madam. You were in a terrible state,” she answered softly. “You had a high fever and collapsed. The Master called for the best doctors. They have been tending to you for two days. He will be relieved to hear you are awake.” She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her touch reassuring, but I remained tense.
“It was inevitable, considering I was drenched in the rain for hours,” I muttered, leaning back against the pillow. A sharp headache struck me, and I winced.
The maid lifted the bowl. “The doctor removed your drip today. He advised you to eat.”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the ever-present fear gnawing at me. The man who had taken me—trapped me—was still out there. No one would come looking for me. My uncle never cared, and I had no friends.
A perfect victim.
“Here, have some soup, madam,” the maid urged, concern evident in her eyes.
I hesitated before taking the first spoonful. The warmth spread through me, comforting yet unfamiliar.
“You are a lovely lady,” she murmured, a small smile gracing her lips.
Compliments were foreign to me. I had never received one before. My aunt’s strict upbringing had left no room for affection. I averted my gaze.
“What is your name?” I asked, my voice steadier now.
“Linda. I am the head maid here. Master asked me to take care of you.”
“You can just call me Miss Elena. Or just Elena,” I told her, feeling a strange sense of gratitude toward the woman.
“Master insists that we address you as Madam.”
My brows furrowed. “That is inappropriate. I am not married.”
Linda hesitated, then gave me a knowing look. “You are not. But you will be very soon.”
A deep, velvety voice filled the room.
I froze. The air turned heavy.
“Linda, prepare dinner,” he commanded.
I couldn’t bring myself to turn toward him. I focused on the patterns in the blanket, willing my heartbeat to slow.
A soft chuckle drifted through the air.
A coat landed on a nearby chair. My breath caught when I caught a glimpse of him unbuttoning his shirt’s top button.
“What are you doing?” My voice trembled.
He smirked. “Relax.”
A file landed in my lap. A pen followed.
He sat beside me—too close. His presence was overwhelming.
I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as I flipped the file open. My chest tightened at the sight of the bold heading: Marriage Certificate.
My breath came in shallow gasps. I clutched the sheets beneath me.
“What is this?” My voice cracked.
His dark eyes held mine captive. “Our future.”
I shook my head furiously. “No! I have a fiancé! I can’t marry you!”
He leaned in, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the icy dread creeping over me. “Engaged or not, you belong to me now.”
Tears burned my eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
His expression darkened. “To protect you.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Protect me? You kidnapped me!”
“You think your precious fiancé would do a better job?” His lips twisted into a mocking smirk. “Did he come looking for you?”
I faltered. He was right. No one had come.
He continued, his voice a deadly whisper. “You were dying in the rain. No one cared. I did.”
I clenched my fists. “You killed a man. I saw it.”
He tilted his head. “And yet, you’re still alive.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “How many?”
He counted on his fingers. “Lost track.”
My stomach churned.
He placed the pen in my hand. “Sign it, bubble.”
I flinched at the nickname.
His presence was suffocating. His tailored shirt clung to his muscular frame, exuding power and control. His chiseled jaw and piercing black eyes bore into me.
I had two choices—fight and risk everything… or sign and buy myself time.
I took a shaky breath, gripping the pen. My fingers hovered over the paper.
A victorious smirk played on his lips.
But as I stared at the ink, something inside me stirred.
I met his gaze head-on. “I will sign… but on one condition.”
His brows lifted, intrigued. “And what might that be?”
I forced my voice to remain steady. “Tell me your name.”
A tense silence filled the room. Then, he let out a low chuckle, amused.
“Elijah.”
The name sent a chill down my spine.
Elijah—the man who held my fate in his hands.
And the man I would one day destroy.
- Writer
