“You looked good in white,” he said, voice casual. “Shame about the attitude.”
"Fuck off." The words snapped from my lips, venomous and sharp. I could feel the tension in the air thicken, swirling like smoke around us. His smile only deepened, amusement glinting in his eyes as if he had just been handed a prize.
He didn’t react the way I expected. I braced myself for an explosion, but he remained calm, controlled—a predator toying with its prey.
“Don’t worry, little muse,” he murmured, each word smooth and low. “I’m not the villain in your head. I’m worse.”
My heart raced at his implication. The threat lingered in the air like a dense fog; it suffocated me, clawed at my throat. I clenched my fists tighter against my knees, willing myself not to respond with more fire than I already had.
“You think you can intimidate me with mind games?” I shot back, trying to mask my unease with bravado.
He chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat like this was all just a game to him—his own twisted version of fun. The way he studied me felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that every word we exchanged was part of a choreography only he understood.
“I don’t need to intimidate you,” he replied smoothly. “You’re already caught in my web.”
I swallowed hard, fighting against the knot forming in my stomach. This wasn’t just about him enjoying this moment; it was about power—and how easily he wielded it over me.
I shifted again, desperate for space that wasn’t there. My breath quickened as frustration coursed through me like fire igniting kindling.
“What’s next? Are you going to parade me around like some trophy?” I demanded, frustration pouring out even as dread coiled tightly inside me.
His smile widened slightly—satisfaction etched into every line of his face—and that sent a shiver down my spine.
"I don't have to parade you," he said, just as we pulled up to his isolated estate. This wasn’t the penthouse.
I wondered why we were here. What was he planning to do with no one around?
I refused to think about it. Instead, I stormed inside, my heart racing with each step. I slammed the door behind me, feeling the shudder of wood against frame echo through the empty hallway. My hands trembled as I hurried toward the bathroom, a desperate need for solitude gnawing at me.
Once inside, I locked the door with a sharp click, the sound ringing like a verdict. The walls closed in around me, but it was better than facing him—better than confronting that smug grin that said he had already won.
I leaned against the cool tiles, sliding down until I sat on the floor. My breaths came fast and shallow as I pressed my palms against my eyes. I tried to block out the image of myself in that dress—how it clung to my body like a second skin, highlighting curves I’d never wanted to showcase.
His voice echoed in my mind. “You looked good in white.” The way he had said it sent a wave of nausea through me. It was all too real now—this forced marriage, this twisted game we were playing.
I let out a shuddering breath, letting my hands drop to my lap. No one could hear me here; no one could see how utterly broken I felt inside. A tear slipped from beneath my fingers and trickled down my cheek before I wiped it away angrily.
The bathroom felt cold and sterile—a stark contrast to the fire raging within me. This wasn’t just about defiance anymore; it was about losing control over everything that had once felt solid in my life. The weight of Hades’ words settled over me like an unwanted cloak.
I wrapped my arms around my knees, drawing them close as if I could protect myself from what was coming next. How could he have orchestrated this? How could he have turned my life into something unrecognizable?
With every beat of silence, his presence loomed larger in my mind—a shadow I couldn’t escape from no matter how hard I tried. And in this moment of solitude, surrounded by cold tiles and stark lighting, I crumbled silently, overwhelmed by emotions too complex to untangle just yet.
I took a deep breath, the cold tiles still biting at my skin as I pushed myself off the floor. My head spun slightly as I stood, the silence of the penthouse wrapping around me like a heavy fog.
As I stepped into the hallway, each footfall echoed in the emptiness. Where was Hades? Had he really left me alone? I braced myself for a confrontation, my pulse quickening with every step. But when I reached my bedroom, an eerie stillness greeted me.
On my bed sat a box wrapped in pale ivory ribbon. The sight of it made my stomach churn. I already knew what was inside. The thought alone sent shivers racing down my spine, but curiosity clawed at me. I couldn't resist.
With trembling fingers, I untied the ribbon and opened the box slowly. There it lay—the veil. Simple yet elegant, it caught the light just right, shimmering with a deceptive delicacy. It felt wrong to look at it; it resembled a noose stitched in silk rather than a bridal accessory.
I stared at it like it might leap out and bite me if I got too close. This wasn’t just fabric; it was a symbol of everything Hades intended to bind me to—a future that felt suffocatingly inevitable.
My breath caught as I lifted the veil from its resting place, fingers brushing against its fine lace edges. Each touch felt like betrayal—an acceptance of what he had planned for me and an acknowledgment of how trapped I truly was.
For a moment, all rational thought faded away as dread settled into my bones. My reflection flickered in the nearby mirror—the one I damaged already replaced with another as if I hadn't destroyed it. I was a girl caught between her desires and her fears. The veil dangled from my fingertips like a promise made of silk and shadows.
In that silence, all-consuming and heavy, I wrestled with the truth: this was happening whether I wanted it or not. And in that moment of clarity, rage boiled up inside me once again—a fierce reminder that no matter how elegantly he dressed his cage, he would never truly own me.
