Candle in a Black Hole

Chapter 8

The Dining Hall, Zandier Estate

Maya followed in the wake of ‘Auntie Na’, the dour housekeeper who had been assigned as her personal shadow. The older woman’s back was as impassive and featureless as the corridors that stretched on toward a seemingly infinite horizon. Maya could not help but wonder: if she were to face this path alone, would she ever find an exit, or would she simply be swallowed whole by this labyrinth?

Every corner of the Zandier Estate was adorned with a repetitive opulence that felt strangely artificial. It was so silent that the sound of her own breathing felt like an unwelcome intrusion.

Upon reaching the dining hall, her footsteps faltered. Before her lay a sprawling table that looked as though it had been plucked from a fairy tale—albeit one stained in somber hues of black and gold. The atmosphere did nothing to whet the appetite; instead, it radiated a chilling dread that seemed to shrink her very soul.

"Here she is, my granddaughter-in-law," Grandfather Frost remarked, his smile appearing, at a glance, to be one of profound affection. He raked his eyes over Maya from head to toe, his gaze one of cold appraisal. "That dress suits you perfectly, Maya. Come, sit... sit beside Alex, right here."

Alex rose at that moment, his towering silhouette casting a dark shadow that completely eclipsed her. He pulled out her chair with a display of impeccable, refined etiquette—a jarring contrast to the brute who had spat venomous threats at her in the study moments prior.

"If you please," he uttered curtly, his piercing gaze seemingly pinning her to the spot.

Maya struggled to suppress the tremors spreading to her fingertips. She lowered herself into the seat with mounting suspicion, her mind screaming a singular question: ‘What twisted game is he playing?’

"Do eat. For tonight’s meal, I sent my chef to learn the recipes directly from the Akkarabadi Manor," Grandfather Frost said with a gentle smile, though his eyes betrayed a glint of cunning he could not entirely hide.

Alex let out a faint smirk. He glanced at his grandfather, who was currently donning the mask of a benevolent patriarch—despite being the very man who had forced her into this den.

Looking at the plate before her, Maya felt her skin crawl. Every dish was a personal favourite she had once enjoyed in the warmth of her own home. Yet tonight, they looked less like food and more like 'offerings' at a morbid shrine.

"Th-thank you, Grandfather Frost," she managed to squeeze out, her hands—now turning icy—hidden securely beneath the table.

"You are a Zandier now; there is no need for such formality. Simply be 'happy' here," Grandfather Frost added, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "Alex has explained the house rules to you, I presume?"

The question nearly caused Maya to drop her cutlery. "Yes... regarding the restriction on wandering without permission."

Alex said nothing. He pressed his knife into the steak with chilling composure, carving it into small, uniform pieces with the precision of a master artist. He then slid his plate toward her, swapping it for her untouched one.

Maya sat petrified, staring at the meat cut into perfect, bite-sized portions for her ‘small mouth’. The sight was utterly nauseating.

"This house is far too vast, and indeed... there are certain corners you truly ought not to meddle with," Grandfather Frost added, watching his grandson tend to Maya with an air of normalcy.

She used a trembling hand to lift a piece of meat to her lips. The flavour she once adored had become a tasteless mass; only a searing bitterness surged down her throat.

"Turn down the air conditioning." Alex’s deep voice cut through the silence. He didn't even look up from his plate. "Can you not see the Madam is shivering? She is practically frozen."

Those words made Maya’s heart lurch. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill onto her plate. She bowed her head, accepting her bitter fate. In that precise second, she realised with terrifying clarity: beneath the vast roof of the Zandier Estate, there was not a single square inch where she was beyond his reach.

The slightest shiver, the faintest hitch in her breath—all were being recorded by the predator, who was merely biding his time before crushing her into the earth.

The Bedroom Landing, Zandier Estate

The atmosphere at the landing was cloaked in a nocturnal silence so profound that Maya could hear the erratic rhythm of her own breath. She followed in the wake of Alex’s broad shoulders, moving in a state of utter surrender; she knew all too well that if he were to abandon her in this opulent labyrinth, she would never find her way back before dawn.

Alex came to an abrupt halt before the doors to his private chambers. He turned, fixing Maya with an unreadable gaze that sent a fresh chill down her spine.

"I trust you find the quarters I’ve prepared to your liking..." he remarked, his voice dropping to a raspy undertone that made her skin crawl. "...Maya Zandier."

With those final words, he disappeared behind his doors, leaving Maya standing solitary in the frigid expanse of the corridor.

Maya extended a hand—which had yet to cease its trembling—toward the opposite door. The digital lock system before her was identical in both model and placement to the one at her flat. With a hesitant touch, she pressed her finger onto the sensor and keyed in the familiar digits of her passcode...

Beep!

The system disarmed, and the door swung open with effortless ease. Maya’s breath hitched; she felt as though the blood in her veins had turned to ice. A visceral shudder rippled through every inch of her skin. This was the first time she had ever stepped foot into this room... yet this room knew her better than she knew herself.

A horrific question looped incessantly in her mind: ‘How did he obtain my passcode? And more importantly... how did he acquire my fingerprint, when I never once granted him my consent?’

Maya’s Bedroom, Zandier Estate

Maya stepped into the room, her body wracked with tremors. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a frantic drumbeat echoing through her chest. She moved toward the sofa—a piece of furniture that looked identical to her own yet felt disturbingly alien. Her gaze fell upon her oversized suitcase, which Auntie Na had left open; her beloved minimalist clothes had been cast aside, prepared to be discarded as if her former identity were not worth preserving within these walls.

With strengthless hands, she reached for her smartphone to message her mother, a desperate attempt to confirm she was still alive—even if, deep down, she felt as though she were suffocating from dread.

""

She pressed send with a hollow heart. In this place, secrets were an impossibility; every tap on the screen felt as though Alex were watching from some unseen vantage point. Maya exhaled a heavy sigh, trying to gather her scattered wits. ‘Since I have been forced here, I must learn to survive,’ she consoled herself while arranging her personal feminine essentials. At the very least, she would use what belonged to her rather than touch anything provided by that depraved man.

However... the moment she finished her business and stepped out of the bathroom, Maya nearly let out a piercing scream!

Seated arrogantly on that very same sofa was the towering figure of Alex, his legs crossed with an air of absolute entitlement. For a fleeting second, she had forgotten that this was not her flat—this was the Zandier empire.

Alex sat motionless, a glass of brandy in his hand, his sharp gaze fixed upon the massive LED screen. He had meticulously commissioned it to project the "cityscape" from that night... the first night he had invaded her sanctuary under the cover of darkness. He turned to meet her eyes the instant the bathroom door creaked open.

"This is your card." He placed a Diamond Platinum card onto the table. "Pray, use your husband’s coin with... 'discretion'."

He didn't even grant her a glance. Alex rose to his full, imposing height and strode toward the door as if he were the rightful master of the room. "Do not forget this is the Zandier Estate. Conduct yourself in a manner befitting your status... Maya Zandier."

As the door opened and closed with an ease that suggested the locking system was merely an illusion, Maya supported her weakened frame and moved to pick up the card. It was a token of wealth her family had never even touched. 'Should I use this to aid Father?' The thought surfaced, followed by a bitterness so sharp she had to bite her lip.

"Wealth traded for a life... how utterly pathetic," she whispered, her voice fractured. "Use my husband’s coin with discretion? To what end? Having it is the same as having nothing at all."

The smartphone she had left behind vibrated incessantly with incoming notifications, but her surging emotions caused her to ignore it with total indifference. The image on the LED screen was driving her toward madness. She scrambled for the lighting remote and rushed to draw the curtains, sealing away the simulation before throwing herself onto the bed.

She lay there, staring at the door with a profound sense of humiliation. Tears tracked down her cheeks, one after another, until the large pillow was sodden with the stains of her despair. Maya wept for an eternity until exhaustion finally claimed her, and she drifted into a fitful sleep—the terror still buried deep within every breath.

The Dead of Night...

The profound stillness of the night was splintered by the faint, mechanical groan of the door latch...

Click.

The towering silhouette of Alex stepped across the threshold, invading Maya’s domain with an air of absolute entitlement.

He could not entirely fathom his own motives for bringing himself here, especially when he could observe her every movement via the high-definition monitors in his study. Yet, a certain primal instinct had driven him to "witness" her with his own eyes—to ensure that his little prey had truly succumbed to sleep.

He stalked toward the expansive bed, his gaze lingering on the slight figure huddled beneath the duvet. Maya had been reared with such suffocating tenderness, shielded like a fragile pearl within a stone, that she was utterly incapable of navigating life on her own. She was blissfully ignorant of the filth and depravity of a society she had always perceived as beautiful.

Recalling her pathetic attempt to scale the perimeter fence just a night ago, Alex felt a surge of grim satisfaction. He held nothing but contempt for the Akkarabadi upbringing—nurturing their offspring to be so brittle that they couldn't even manage a simple escape. It was a comedy that afforded him a twisted sense of amusement.

Yet, in another chamber of his mind, he was fascinated by a hidden aptitude she possessed... a natural talent for observation, an uncanny ability to read emotions and sense subtle shifts in her environment with a speed that far surpassed the average person. Why, then, had the Akkarabadi family pushed her into jewellery design—a field where her academic performance had been so dismal? Why had they failed to steer her toward something that could draw out her true potential?

He looked down at her sleeping face with a chilling detachment.

"I do hope you don't shatter before I've had my fill of fun... Maya Zandier."

Alex turned and retreated as silently as a ghost, leaving behind only the faint, lingering scent of his cologne mingled with tobacco—a cryptic signature left by design. It was a message for her to discover upon waking; a stark proof that he was the master of her existence, capable of reaching her at any moment she lay defenceless.