Chapter Four : Beginning Of Defiance
1638 Words
Celina’s POV
I must have dozed off at some point, though I couldn't tell for how long. When I opened my eyes, the lamp still glowed softly, casting long shadows across the room. The food tray was half-empty on the side table—evidence of my surrender—and the silence around me had grown heavier, pressing against my skin.
I shifted, body stiff from curling on the couch too long. The mansion was too quiet. No footsteps in the halls. No distant chatter. Just silence.
I stood slowly, wrapping the thin throw blanket tighter around my shoulders. The cold tile beneath my feet reminded me—I wasn’t home. Not even close.
Then I heard it.
A soft sound. Barely audible. Fabric brushing the wall, or maybe footsteps—controlled, deliberate.
I turned toward the door. It wasn’t locked.
Something stirred in me—a quiet defiance, or maybe curiosity. Maybe both.
I padded across the room, fingers brushing the ornate handle. I paused, then pulled it open.
The hallway outside was dim, lit by antique sconces that flickered with soft golden light. Shadows stretched across the patterned floor like secrets waiting to be discovered.
And there he was.
The man from earlier—Jace.
He stood at the end of the hallway, facing a tall window. Hands clasped behind his back, shoulders squared. Guard-like. Still.
He turned and spoke.
“You should be asleep, ma’am.”
His voice was the same as before—low, calm, maddeningly composed.
“I could say the same to you,” I replied, surprised by how steady my voice was.
He turned then, slowly. His eyes met mine—cool, unreadable.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked, keeping my distance.
“I’m assigned to keep you safe, ma’am.”
“Like a babysitter?”
His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. “Just to ensure you're comfortable.”
“From what?” I challenged. “I’m locked in a mansion. What exactly am I being protected from?”
He didn’t answer.
I stepped forward, my bare feet making no sound. “You know what this is, don’t you? Why I’m here?”
That pause again. Heavy. Intentional.
“I know enough,” he said.
I hated how cryptic everyone here was. Secrets layered under politeness. Truth buried beneath stone expressions.
“Jace, right?” I said. “And you just do what he tells you to?”
“I do what I’m paid to.”
“And what is that? Watching me like a hawk?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I make sure you stay safe.”
“Safe,” I echoed bitterly. “Funny how that word keeps coming up in a place that feels like a very pretty cage.”
His jaw tightened, just a little. But he said nothing.
“You said you know enough. Enough about him?”
His eyes flickered, but stayed on me.
“I know he’s not someone to cross.”
I gave a dry laugh. “Well, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
He still didn’t respond.
“Does he do this often?” I asked. “Buy girls like me?”
That one hit. He shifted slightly. But his face remained calm.
His lips pressed into a line. “Go back inside, ma’am.”
“I’m not going to sleep,” I said. “Not while I feel like a pawn on a board I didn’t agree to be placed on.”
He didn’t move. Just stood there—silent, sturdy, frustrating.
“Jace,” I said, stepping closer, “tell me something real. Just one thing. Please.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said, quietly, “Good night, ma’am.”
And with that, he turned and walked away—leaving me standing alone in the hallway.
---
I returned to the room and crawled into the bed for the first time.
Warm sunlight filtered through the tall windows, brushing across my skin and coaxing my eyes open. For a second, I forgot where I was—until I saw the high ceilings, the velvet curtains, the cold perfection of the unfamiliar room.
A knock came at the door, then it creaked open.
A young woman entered, balancing a silver tray. She had a round face, nervous eyes, and wore a neat black-and-white uniform.
“Good morning,” she said softly, gaze lowered. “Breakfast, madam.”
She placed the tray on the table beside the couch where I had slept the night before. The scent of buttery eggs, warm bread, and fruit filled the air. My stomach growled, betraying me.
“Thank you,” I said, sitting up slowly.
She gave a small nod but didn’t leave right away.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She blinked. “Me?”
“Yes. You brought me food. I’d like to know your name.”
She hesitated. “Nina.”
I offered a faint smile. “Nice to meet you, Nina.”
She looked surprised, then lowered her gaze again, fidgeting with the edge of her apron.
“I’m Celina.”
“I know,” she said quickly—too quickly. Her cheeks flushed. “I mean… I was told.”
Of course she was. Everyone probably knew who I was before I stepped inside this place.
“Do you live here? I mean… in the mansion?”
She nodded. “In the servants’ quarters. We stay on the ground floor.”
“Do you ever leave?”
Her eyes darted toward the door, as if someone might be listening. “Not often. Only on errands. We’re… well monitored.”
That didn’t surprise me. This was a gilded cage. Just more guarded than I expected.
“You don’t have to keep standing. You can sit, if you want.”
Nina shook her head quickly. “I can’t, ma’am.”
“I won’t tell.”
But she was already backing away, murmuring about duties before slipping out and shutting the door softly behind her.
I sighed.
So much for that.
Still, she’d spoken to me. That was something. A thread to pull on later.
Because I had made a decision the moment I woke up:
I couldn’t keep going like this. I wouldn’t let a man—no matter how rich, mysterious, or powerful—dictate the course of my life.
Not Damon.
Not anyone.
If I had to pretend, so be it. If I had to make friends, ask questions, memorize exits—I’d do it.
I walked to the couch and sat.
I took a slow bite of warm bread and let my mind start working.
Carefully. Quietly.
Because escape didn’t always come from running.
Sometimes, it started with watching.
And waiting.
---
After breakfast, I showered quickly, letting the water strip away the fatigue. I towel-dried and stepped to the wardrobe.
The gowns mocked me. Designer labels—Dior, Chanel, Givenchy. I picked a navy-blue dress with a soft waistline and a hem that skimmed my ankles. Paired with nude heels, I looked… composed.
Like a woman with purpose.
Good. I needed that illusion.
I pressed my ear to the door. No footsteps. I stepped out into the hallway.
It was quiet. Cold.
I moved fast but silent, retracing a path I vaguely remembered. I didn’t head to the garden.
I went the opposite way.
Toward the unknown.
The corridor grew dimmer. Fewer windows. More locked doors. I tested one. Locked.
Further down, I found a narrow staircase. Less polished than the grand one. I descended, carefully.
At the bottom—another hallway, paneled in deep wood. Faint light. One door was slightly ajar.
I pushed it open.
A private lounge.
Leather couches. Mahogany bar. Shelves lined with rare liquor. Black-and-white photographs on the wall—men in suits, business events, one with Damon standing beside an older man. His expression blank. But his eyes… sharp.
I kept moving.
Another room—a sunroom, maybe. Floor-to-ceiling windows, half-covered. And a locked glass door beyond that. A cellar? A safe room?
What was he hiding?
Then—footsteps.
My heart skipped.
I dashed into the nearest door—linen closet—and closed it gently.
Two voices passed by. One male. Deep.
Not Damon.
Not anyone I recognized.
I waited a full minute.
Then slipped back into the hallway, heart hammering.
I returned to my room. Clicked the door shut.
Only then did I breathe.
I smiled.
Maybe I was trapped.
Maybe I had no idea what Damon really wanted from me.
But I wasn’t waiting around to be told.
I would find the truth myself.
Even if I had to search every inch of this place to get it.
---
Damon’s POV
I stepped into the surveillance room.
She wasn’t in her suite.
“Where did you wander off to now?” I muttered.
I toggled through camera feeds, tracking her.
Lifted the telecom. “She’s not in her room. Find her.”
“Yes, sir.”
I leaned back in the chair.
“You’re not as helpless as I thought.”
Just then, the camera feed caught her rushing into the room—breathless, flushed, like she’d been chased by her own nerves.
Interesting.
I rewound the feed.
Where were you, Celina?
What did you see?
Just as I slowed the playback, the feed glitched.
That irritated me.
This system wasn’t supposed to glitch.
“Curious little rabbit,” I muttered.
My phone buzzed. A message from Jace:
“She’s back in her room. Should I post someone outside?”
I replied:
“No. Let her think she has freedom. For now.”
Let her wander. Let her explore.
This house was a labyrinth.
And Celina?
She was already deep inside it.
- Writer
