Clara wasn't sure what had changed after that night in the library, but something had. Benjamin was still the powerful, brooding force that loomed over the mansion, but his interactions with her softened—just slightly, like a glacier cracking under the weight of its own isolation.
It wasn't enough to trust him completely, but it was enough to make her curious.
One evening, as Clara stood by the grand window overlooking the estate's sprawling garden, she caught sight of Benjamin on the terrace. He was leaning against the railing, his phone pressed to his ear. His expression was unreadable, though his posture was tense, his free hand gripping the edge of the railing as if to steady himself.
She hesitated for a moment before making her way outside. The cool night air wrapped around her like a blanket as she approached him. He ended the call just as she drew near, his gaze shifting to meet hers.
"You're not afraid to wander anymore," he said, his voice tinged with something she couldn't quite place. Amusement? Admiration?
Clara shrugged, her arms crossed. "I figured if I stayed in my room any longer, I'd lose my mind. Besides, it's not like I can leave."
Benjamin's lips curved into a faint smile—an expression so rare it caught Clara off guard. "You're right. You can't."
Clara narrowed her eyes. "You enjoy reminding me, don't you?"
He chuckled, the sound low and unexpected. "Not exactly. But you're not as helpless as you think."
"Helpless?" she shot back, her tone sharper than she intended. "You're the one who kidnapped me and threw me into this gilded cage. If anyone's helpless, it's because of you."
For a moment, Benjamin didn't respond. His gaze lingered on her, his expression thoughtful. Then he turned away, looking out over the garden.
"I know what you think of me," he said quietly. "And I don't blame you. But there are things about my world you don't understand."
Clara crossed her arms tighter, the words coming out before she could stop them. "Then maybe you should explain instead of treating me like a pawn in your game."
Benjamin's jaw tightened, but he didn't lash out. Instead, he sighed—a weary, almost resigned sound.
"Come with me," he said suddenly.
Clara blinked. "What?"
"Just trust me," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "There's something I want you to see."
Against her better judgment, Clara followed him. He led her through the mansion, down a series of corridors she hadn't explored before. The air grew cooler as they descended a narrow staircase into what felt like an underground chamber.
The room they entered was unlike anything Clara had seen in the mansion. It wasn't opulent or grand; it was simple, almost austere. The walls were lined with photographs and documents, and a large table dominated the center of the room, covered in maps and files.
"What is this?" Clara asked, her voice tinged with unease.
"This is the truth," Benjamin said, stepping into the room. "This is why I do what I do."
Clara moved closer to one of the walls, her eyes scanning the photographs. There were images of men in suits, some smiling, others serious. There were also pictures of families, children, and places she didn't recognize.
"These people," Benjamin began, his voice low, "are the reason I built my empire. They're not just pawns in a game—they're victims of it. My world is full of monsters, Clara. And sometimes, the only way to fight a monster is to become one."
Clara turned to face him, her brow furrowed. "You're saying you're some kind of... protector?"
Benjamin's laugh was bitter. "Hardly. I've done terrible things, Clara. Things I'll never be able to atone for. But I made a choice a long time ago—to use the power I gained to protect those who can't protect themselves."
Clara studied him, trying to reconcile the man before her with the ruthless figure she had come to fear. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because," he said, his eyes meeting hers, "you're not just some random girl who got caught up in this. You're part of it now, whether you like it or not."
Clara's stomach twisted at his words. "I didn't ask for this."
"No," Benjamin agreed. "But you're here. And I need you to understand that this isn't just about me. It's about them."
He gestured to the photographs on the walls, his expression heavy with an emotion Clara couldn't quite name.
For a long moment, the two of them stood in silence. Then Clara spoke, her voice soft but steady. "You can't expect me to forgive you, Benjamin. Not after everything you've done."
"I don't need your forgiveness," he replied. "I just need you to see the truth."
Clara didn't respond. She turned back to the photographs, her mind racing. The world she had been thrust into was far more complex than she had imagined, and Benjamin was far more complicated than she wanted to admit.
As they left the chamber and made their way back to the main part of the mansion, Clara couldn't help but feel a strange sense of unease. Benjamin was a man of contradictions—a ruthless king who claimed to protect the innocent. And now, she was part of his world, whether she liked it or not.