Kezia spent the following days in a numb haze. Every movement, every step she took in the mansion felt heavier, weighted with the knowledge of how deeply she had been deceived. The walls seemed to close in on her, trapping her in the twisted web of betrayal woven by Ethan and Lucas.
Her days were a blur, and every encounter with either of them felt like a fresh wound. She couldn't meet their eyes without remembering their callous words, couldn't stand in their presence without feeling like she was being stripped of every ounce of dignity she had left. But she wasn't prepared to break in front of them. Not yet.
She knew that to them, she was weak. She had heard the cold dismissal in their voices, felt the sting of their words over and over in her mind. But in her heart, something darker was growing—a hardened resolve that she hadn't known she possessed. She would survive this, somehow. And she would make them regret underestimating her.
On a stormy evening, as the rain beat against the windows, Kezia made her way to the library. She didn't want to face anyone, not even the servants. They looked at her with pity, no doubt whispering behind her back about her "foolishness" for believing she meant anything to Ethan or Lucas. She was determined to keep her emotions in check, to stay composed. She was stronger than they thought.
As she browsed the rows of books, running her fingers along the spines to steady herself, a voice startled her.
"You know, it's quite pathetic, isn't it?" Lucas leaned against the library door, his eyes glinting with mock amusement. "To see you wandering around, trying to act like you're still in control."
Kezia's hands clenched at her sides, but she forced herself to appear unaffected. She could feel his gaze burning into her, waiting for a reaction, a slip, a sign of weakness.
Ignoring him, she continued browsing, her fingers grazing a leather-bound book as though it held the answers to her pain. Lucas's presence was suffocating, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his words had wounded her.
Lucas sighed theatrically, pushing himself off the doorframe. "Silent treatment? Very mature, Kezia. But you should know by now—it doesn't make a difference. You're nothing more than a puppet here."
"Do you enjoy it, Lucas?" she finally asked, her voice colder than she had intended. "Do you enjoy watching people suffer?"
His smirk faltered, and for a split second, she saw something in his eyes—an emotion she couldn't quite place. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that same condescending smirk.
"Let's not play games, Kezia," he replied smoothly, moving closer until the space between them felt almost suffocating. "You chose this. You could have left anytime, but you stayed. Deep down, you wanted this life. You wanted the thrill, the power. Don't pretend you're some innocent victim."
Her gaze met his, and for the first time, she allowed herself to look at him without fear. "Maybe I did want this life," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But I didn't want to be betrayed by people I thought I could trust."
Lucas's expression shifted, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something that looked like regret. But he quickly masked it with a cold laugh. "Trust? Kezia, trust is for fools. You should know that by now."
With that, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the library. Kezia was left alone, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind racing. The conversation had left her more shaken than she cared to admit. It was as if every word Lucas spoke was a warning—a reminder that she was alone in this battle.
---
Later that night, Kezia lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She felt as though she were losing pieces of herself, one by one. Every day spent in this house chipped away at her, leaving her vulnerable, raw, and exposed. But the more she thought about it, the more her anger grew. She couldn't continue like this. She couldn't allow herself to be reduced to a pawn in their games.
Morning arrived, and Kezia felt as though she had been drained of all energy. She went through her routine in a trance, her mind working overtime as she plotted her next steps. She would need allies, she realized. People she could trust—if such people even existed in this twisted world. And if not, she would have to create her own path, one that would lead her out of this nightmare.
---
By midday, she found herself crossing paths with Ethan in one of the drawing rooms. His expression was indifferent, but there was a hint of curiosity in his gaze. He was studying her, as though trying to piece together her thoughts.
"Kezia," he greeted, his tone guarded. "I've noticed you've been… distant."
She gave him a cold smile. "Is that a problem?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by her newfound iciness. "It could be. You know I prefer my… acquaintances to be cooperative."
"Cooperative?" Kezia repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that all you want, Ethan? Someone who will simply obey you without question?"
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, Kezia. You're not in a position to make demands."
She tilted her head, unafraid for the first time. "No, but I am in a position to decide whether I allow you to continue using me as a pawn."
For a moment, there was silence between them, the tension thick enough to cut through. Ethan's expression softened, but his eyes held a warning. "You're playing a dangerous game, Kezia."
"Maybe," she replied, her voice steady. "But I've learned from the best, haven't I?"
With that, she turned on her heel and left him standing there, her heart racing. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back as she walked away, but she didn't look back. She couldn't allow herself to be swayed by his manipulation any longer. This was her moment, her chance to reclaim her life—and she would not let him take that from her.
---
As Kezia retreated to her room, she felt a surge of determination unlike anything she had felt before. She was no longer the naive woman who had entered this house, hopeful and trusting. She was stronger now, sharper, and more aware of the danger around her.
They had underestimated her, both of them. And now, they would pay for it.