Page 48 of Damsel in Disguise

Asher: You’re a fucking pain in my ass, Ari. Fine. Five weeks only!

Asher: But you answer to EVERY TEXT or I’m flying to England myself.

Me: Deal.

Afterwards, I close the connection, severing the link before Adrian’s diagnostic routines could execute a deeper packet inspection.

I let out a slow, controlled breath, removing my glasses and tossing them onto the scattered, encrypted documents on my desk.

The immediate external variable has been neutralized. Her family would hopefully believe she’s simply throwing an academic tantrum, isolating herself within Oxford’s high-security laboratories.

As for her attendance records, I’d personally take care of them. I’ll protect her academic standing while she remains completely unconscious beneath my roof.

I walk back to the edge of the gurney, looking down at the girl who has single-handedly introduced chaos into my perfectly calculated existence.

My fingers reach out and rest against the delicate, warm curve of her neck. Beneath my palm, the rapid, erratic flutter of her pulse beat against my skin—a frantic wave that betrays her body’s internal awareness of my proximity, even through the deep sedation.

She wanted to play the hunter. She wanted to uncover the demon dressed in academic charm.

“Five weeks, Ariella,” I whisper, my thumb brushes lightly against her lower lip, smoothing away the tiny trace of dried blood.

Five weeks to reconstruct your world. To make sure that when your eyes finally open, you find everything so entirely perfect... that you’ll never realize you’re inside the cage.

18. FABRICATED

ariella

My eyes flutter open.

They feel so heavy, like I’ve woken up from a hibernation. I try to move my head, adjusting to the dim lights.

The ceiling above me isn’t my apartment’s.

It’s matte ivory, smooth, seamless, with recessed lighting hidden in narrow architectural slits. The air smells faintly of cedarwood and something expensive and clean.

My body registers itself slowly.

Soft sheets. A mattress that gives just enough beneath my spine. No restraints. That means at least I’m not abducted. So where am I?

I try to recall what happened beforehand, what led me here.

Me on my bike after class.

An unknown car follows after.

Taking the wrong turn.

Next… I’m thrown off my bike, and everything went black.

No fluorescent hum. No antiseptic sting clogging my throat. This is definitely not even close to a private clinic.

A flash of his face over mine. Or maybe I imagined that part.

I can’t remember anything else, no matter how hard I try. It’s as if I’m being materialized here in this unfamiliar bedroom out of nowhere.

Wait, shouldn’t I be in the hospital? But there’s no IV tugging at my arm. No hospital-like setup catches my attention. It’s more like a very expensive guest room in a mansion of some new-money sugar daddy.

I blink again. Once. Twice.