Mine.
Chapter 21 - Eve
I wake alone.
The bed is massive, the sheets Egyptian cotton with a thread count I can't even fathom. The morning light filters through automatic blinds that Nathan must have programmed to open at precisely this time. Everything in his world—our world now—runs on invisible schedules and silent efficiency.
I stretch, my body sinking into the mattress, and feel something I haven't felt in months.
Peace.
The realization sends a bolt of fear through my chest. I sit up quickly, my heart pounding, because this—this quiet contentment—is terrifying. I should be afraid. I should be planning my escape. I should be fighting.
But the constant hum of anxiety that's been my companion since the night at the club is gone. The hypervigilance, the fear, the desperate need to stay one step ahead—all of it has vanished.
Because I'm not running anymore.
I look around the bedroom that's now mine as much as his. My books on the nightstand. My favorite throw blanket draped over the chair. The photo of Alex I thought I'd lost, now in a new frame on the dresser.
He's woven me into his life so thoroughly that I can't see the seams.
I swing my legs out of bed and pad barefoot across plush carpet to the windows. The city sprawls below, a glittering testament to power and money and the kind of control Nathan wields so effortlessly.
This is how it happens, I think, pressing my palm against the cool glass, my throat tight. This is how you forget you're in a cage. You wake up one day and realize the bars are gilded, the lock is platinum, and you've stopped looking for the key.
***
I make the call from the small balcony off the living room, where the city noise provides a buffer of privacy even though I know Nathan can access the audio if he wants to.
My hands are shaking as I dial.
Lucy answers on the first ring. "Eve? Oh my God, Eve, are you okay? I've been trying to reach you for two days—"
"I'm fine," I interrupt, my voice steadier than I feel. "I'm sorry I worried you."
"Worried me? Eve, you disappeared! And then that man—Nathan Hale—he called me into a meeting and told me I need his permission to talk to you!" Her voice rises with each word, and I can hear the fear beneath the anger. "What the hell is going on?"
I close my eyes, gripping the phone tighter. "It's... complicated."
"Complicated?" Lucy's laugh is sharp and bitter. "Eve, he's isolating you. Can't you see that? First, your business relationships, then your company, now he's controlling who you can talk to. This is textbook abuser behavior!"
I want to argue. Want to explain that Nathan's not like other men, that his obsession comes from a place of genuine feeling, that I'm choosing this.
But the words die in my throat because I hear how pathetic they sound even in my own head.
"I have to go," I say instead, my voice cracking.
"Eve, wait—"
"I'm sorry, Lucy. I'm so sorry." The tears are streaming down my face now. "You're right. About everything. But I can't—I don't know how to leave anymore."
"Then let me help you—"
"Goodbye, Lucy."
I end the call before she can respond, before her fear and logic can crack the fragile acceptance I've built. When I turn around, I half expect to see Nathan standing there, but I'm alone.
Completely alone.
