Chapter Five
1261 Words
The first thing Ava noticed was the stillness.
No children’s voices, no Diane’s humming, no distant clatter from the old kitchen. Just silence. Thick and pressing, like something alive in the walls.
She opened her eyes slowly. A tall ceiling loomed overhead, painted cream with fading gold etchings at the edges. The room was wide—larger than her entire apartment back at the NGO. Velvet curtains spilled to the floor like shadows. Nothing in this room felt real.
Then came the scent.
Masculine. Deep. A subtle mix of woodsmoke, amber, and something sharp like black pepper. It clung to the air, heavy on the pillows beneath her head, woven into the fabric of the sheets.
This wasn’t her bed.
This wasn’t her world.
She sat up abruptly, heart slamming against her ribs. A dull ache pressed against her temples. Her hair was undone, her arms bare under a long ivory night robe. Panic rose quickly, clawing its way up her throat.
Where am I?
She swung her legs off the bed.
Before her bare feet could touch the cold marble floor, the door opened.
A man stepped in quietly.
Old. Mid-seventies. Neatly dressed in black and grey. White gloves on his hands. Thin spectacles perched on his nose. His hair was slicked back, revealing a deeply lined face and a kind, tired smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Ah,” he said gently. “You’re awake.”
Ava blinked.
He didn’t rush toward her. Instead, he placed a silver tray on a table near the window and gave a respectful nod.
“I am Ernest, the house butler,” he said. “Please, do not be alarmed. You’re safe.”
She didn’t move.
She stared at him, then looked around the room. The bed. The dark oak furniture. The black leather armchair beside the window. The faint, unmistakable presence lingering in the air.
She pointed at the bed with a trembling hand.
Whose room is this?
The old man’s eyes twitched slightly, as though he’d expected the question.
“This is Master Todd's room,” he replied calmly.
Ava’s stomach twisted.
She stood up slowly, her legs shaky beneath her. Her mind raced with fragmented thoughts.
Did he…? Was I here all night? Did he sleep here too? Did he watch me? Touch me?
As if reading the storm behind her silence, Ernest shook his head gently.
“Master Todd did not return last night,” he said. “He was called away for something urgent. He instructed that you be made comfortable until he comes back.”
Why here? she signed.
The butler gave her a' where else' look before answering.
A small, practiced smile settled on the butler's face. “ I’m not always told everything.”
Ava didn’t trust that smile. She didn’t trust this room. Or this house.
But more than anything—she didn’t trust him.
Ethan.
His name echoed like a curse in her head.
Her hands tightened into fists by her sides. She hated this. The unknowing. The helplessness. The feeling of being... arranged, like furniture in someone else's story.
Ernest motioned politely toward the tray.
“There’s tea, toast, and fruit. I took the liberty of including honey. You look like you need something warm.”
Ava stared at the food, untouched.
Then back at him.
She signed, Is the door locked?
“No, Miss. But I would advise against exploring the estate alone. Some doors are not meant to be opened. And some people... aren’t as welcoming as me.”
It wasn’t a threat.
It was a warning.
---
When Ernest left the room, Ava finally moved.
She went to the mirror and stared at herself. Her face looked pale. Her lips dry. The faint outline of dried tears still clung to her cheeks. The robe covered her modestly, but her eyes—it was her eyes that looked different.
Not sad.
Not even scared.
Just... gone.
Her hand went to her neck. No necklace. No sign of her own belongings. Lisa’s phone was gone. No trace of Diane. No way of escape.
She opened the wardrobe—lined with dark suits, clean shirts, leather belts. All his. Even the hangers smelled like him.
She slammed the door shut.
---
The bathroom was spotless. Too spotless. A single black towel was folded by the sink. Beside it, a silver razor and a glass bottle of aftershave.
Ava washed her face quickly and changed into the simple black sweater and jeans left on the edge of the bed—clearly placed there for her.
Everything here was prepared. Controlled.
She opened the bedroom door cautiously.
A long hallway stretched ahead, lined with thick rugs and portraits of people she didn’t recognize. She walked slowly, feet silent against the floor.
At the end of the hall, she saw a staircase—and two men in black suits standing at the base.
They didn’t move.
They didn’t speak.
But their eyes followed her.
Like wolves waiting for their cue.
Ava backed away and returned to the room, her pulse racing.
Hours passed.
Maybe more.
She sat by the window, watching the grounds below. There were guards everywhere. A tall gate. Security cameras. No visible exit.
She couldn’t run.
Not yet.
She pressed her forehead to the cool glass.
Then she heard it.
A car engine outside.
Voices. Footsteps.
The sound of the front door unlocking.
And then—
His voice.
Low.
Calm.
Controlled.
Ethan Todd had come home.
Ava froze.
Her heart stilled in her chest. A rush of emotion—confusion, fear, maybe even anger—stormed through her all at once. Should she confront him? Ask why he brought her here? Demand where Diane was?
But she couldn’t decide.
His footsteps were getting closer.
Each thud against the floorboards seemed louder than the last. Her body tensed. What was she supposed to do? What could she say? Ava took a step backward instinctively, her eyes darting around the room.
And then it hit her.
Quickly, she dove onto the bed and yanked the blanket over herself, lying still, flat on her back. She pulled the cover higher, almost to her ears, and shut her eyes as tight as she could. Her breathing became shallow, controlled—like a child pretending to sleep.
The footsteps stopped just outside the room.
Her heartbeat pounded inside her chest. Her fingers trembled beneath the blanket. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to face whatever came with his presence—especially not now.
The door didn’t creak, nor did it open immediately. But she felt it.
That shift in air when someone enters a room.
Ethan was here.
The scent of masculine cologne became heavier.
For a second, she thought maybe he’d leave. Maybe he’d assume she was asleep and just walk out.
But she felt him come closer.
His presence was heavy, like the room tilted in his direction. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t even flinch, but her skin prickled from the weight of his gaze.
A few seconds passed. Maybe more.
Then he moved. She couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but she heard the soft sound of fabric—maybe he’d removed his coat. A chair scraped faintly against the floor. He didn’t say a word.
He was just sitting.
Watching.
Maybe.
The silence between them stretched long, taut like a string that might snap at any moment.
Ava remained perfectly still. Her lashes didn’t even flutter...She thought.
And yet… something told her he knew she was awake.
- Writer
