"Trapped. Helpless. At the mercy of a man who won't forgive."
Kieran wasn't even supposed to step foot in the mansion.
He only turned back because he forgot a file — the one for his Cruster meeting.
He walked in, irritated, ready to grab what he came for and leave. But the second he stepped inside, something felt… off.
Too quiet.
Not peaceful silence — the tense, suffocating kind.
The kind of silence people hold when they're scared to breathe wrong.
Every maid and guard stood together at the hall, stiff, eyes down, shoulders locked.
Their eyes shifted away the second they saw him.
Kieran didn't ask what happened.
He didn't need to.
Their faces told him enough.
Something was wrong.
But he ignored it—for now.
He walked past them and headed upstairs like nothing was out of place.
His footsteps were calm. Controlled.
But the tension in the house followed him all the way to his room.
He opened the door.
His file was exactly where he left it on the desk.
Everything else was where it should be too—
except one thing.
His wife wasn't there.
And her breakfast tray, still on the table, was untouched.
Kieran's jaw tightened, the line of his throat going sharp. He walked into the room slowly, scanning it once.
Not a single sign of her.
He picked up the file quietly.
Then turned around and left the room.
No rush.
No shouting.
No panic.
Just a slow descent down the stairs, each step more dangerous than the last.
The staff were still frozen in the foyer when he returned.
This time, he didn't walk past them.
He stopped.
Looked at them once.
And said, in a voice so calm it made two maids flinch:
"Where is my wife?"
...…..
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
I kept checking the back window, scanning every car, every silhouette.
"Please, just keep driving," I whispered.
The driver glanced at the road ahead. "Ma'am, the freeway's completely blocked. Looks like an accident up front."
My stomach tightened.
I didn't have time for this. I didn't have time for anything.
"Is there another route?" I pushed, breath unsteady.
He hesitated. "There's a side street I can take, but it's… pretty empty. Not really a main road."
"I don't care," I said, louder. "Take it."
He nodded and turned sharply.
The street was quiet. Too quiet.
My pulse wouldn't slow.
Then a black SUV pulled out of nowhere and blocked the road ahead.
The taxi jerked to a stop.
"What the—" the driver muttered.
Another car eased into place behind us, sealing us in.
My heart dropped straight to my stomach.
He found me.
The front door of the SUV opened.
Kieran stepped out like he wasn't even surprised.
Dark shirt, dark eyes, expression carved from stone.
He walked toward the taxi slow, controlled, terrifyingly calm.
"Ma'am…" the driver whispered, "I can't move."
"I know," I breathed.
Because Kieran was already opening my door.
Heat and anger rolled off him in waves.
I couldn't breathe.
His hand wrapped around my wrist, grip firm, unshaking, possessive.
He pulled me out of the car like I weighed nothing.
My legs felt weak.
His mouth brushed close to my ear, voice black and final.
"You thought I'd let you leave… wife?"
"Please… let me see my son," I whispered, my voice trembling, cracking under the weight of fear.
"Please… let go…" I tried again, twisting my wrist, hoping he might release me even a fraction.
His fingers clamped around my wrist like iron, dragging me into the SUV. The door slammed behind us with a finality that made my chest tighten. I stumbled as he pulled me across the seat, my legs shaking, my body unsteady.
Kieran didn't say a word. Not a flicker, not a glance toward me. Just silence.
I knew then. This was the calm before the storm. And… for a moment, I hated myself for thinking it—but I preferred his restraint over the storm I knew could follow.
No. To hell with that. I didn't prefer anything.
I forced my eyes to the side, catching only his profile—sharp jawline, cold eyes fixed outside the window. The muscles in his hand tightened around my wrist.
When we reached the mansion, panic clawed at me. My eyes darted toward the other door. If I could slip out, maybe I could run, maybe I could escape.
He saw it before I could move. His grip tightened. Pain shot up my arm as he yanked me toward the door. I stumbled, catching myself just in time.
Inside the mansion, my stomach dropped. The staff had already gathered. Maids and guards, frozen, heads bowed, eyes full of fear—and pity. Pity for me.
Kieran didn't slow. His grip on my wrist was unyielding as he stepped forward, dragging me closer to the center of the hall.
He stopped in front of Mrs. Gable. She trembled, knees threatening to give way.
"Sir… please… I—" she stammered, voice trembling.
His gaze sliced through her like ice. Not a word. Not a twitch.
"You didn't lock the door properly," he said, low and deliberate, each word sharp. "You allowed her to leave. You failed. Do you understand what failure costs?"
Her hands went to her face. She whispered, "Sir… my children… please…"
His stare didn't waver.
He methodically removed every comfort she relied on—salary gone, allowance gone, food gone, her children's care cut.
She collapsed completely, sobbing, desperate. "Please… Sir… I… I beg you…"
I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My chest felt like it had been hollowed out. My guilt burned hotter than my fear. This is my fault. I made this happen.
If he could do that to her… what would he do to me?
My thoughts flew to Adrien. My son. My heart slammed against my ribs. He wouldn't… he couldn't…
Kieran's hand closed around my wrist again before I could blink
No words. Just that same, unshakable, iron grip.
He yanked me forward, turning away from Mrs. Gable's collapsed body as though she were background noise.
"K–Kieran—" I tried, stumbling after him.
He didn't answer.
He dragged me through the hallway, past the staff with their eyes glued to the floor, past the grand staircase, past every door I might have thrown myself toward in a desperate bid for freedom.
My heart hammered everywhere—my throat, my palms, my spine.
He slammed open his bedroom door.Then he shoved me in.I hit the expensive mattress hard, the air knocking out of me as my body bounced.
Before I could even push myself up, his shadow swallowed the light, his body caging mine.He trapped me instantly—one heavy hand flat on the bed beside my head, the other locking both my wrists down before I even thought to lift them.
"Kieran… please," I gasped, struggling. "Let me—"
"You ran," he said, low, cold, every word slicing through me. "You left. You disobeyed."
I tried to pull my hand free. My fingers scraped against his. He tightened his hold. Pain shot up my arm.
"You think freedom is yours to take?" he whispered, his face hovering over mine. So close I could feel the heat of his breath. "Look at me, Aurielle. Do you see the rules? Or are you still too blind?"
I swallowed. My chest heaving. "Please… I just wanted… to see my son—"
His laugh was soft. Dark. Dangerous. "Your son? You think I'll let you run to him? You think he's yours to touch whenever you feel like it?"
Panic clawed at my throat. "You… you can't do this—"
"I already did."
The words hit me like ice. He dragged his nose along my neck—not a kiss, just claiming, marking, reminding me I was trapped.
"You will stay here. Eat here. Sleep here. Breathe here. Your world ends the moment you disobey."
Tears burned my cheeks, but I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His eyes were everywhere, cutting into me, drilling the truth: I had no control, no escape, no say.
"You want your son?" he said softly, leaning closer. "Earn it. Disobey again, and freedom won't just be gone—it will be a memory you begged for."