Clara awoke the next morning to the sound of birds chirping faintly outside her window. For a moment, she almost forgot where she was. The plush bed, the soft sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains—it all felt so far removed from the chaos of the life she had been thrust into. But reality came crashing back the moment she stepped out of bed and caught sight of the locked door.
Her freedom, limited as it was, was still not hers to claim.
The events of the previous day lingered in her mind like a haunting melody. Benjamin's words, his unyielding presence, and the weight of the secrets he carried—all of it swirled together, leaving her feeling both wary and strangely drawn to him.
As she dressed and made her way downstairs, Clara resolved to keep her distance. Whatever truce they had reached wouldn't last if she allowed herself to become too entangled in his world.
The scent of fresh coffee guided her to the dining room, where Benjamin sat at the head of the long table, a newspaper in hand. He glanced up as she entered, his expression unreadable.
"You're up early," he remarked, folding the paper neatly and setting it aside.
Clara shrugged, taking a seat at the far end of the table. "Couldn't sleep."
Benjamin's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I imagine you have a lot on your mind."
Clara didn't respond. Instead, she focused on the plate of toast and fruit that a servant had placed in front of her.
For a while, they ate in silence, the only sound the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain. It was strangely peaceful, though the tension between them remained palpable.
Finally, Benjamin broke the silence. "I want to show you something today."
Clara froze, her fork hovering mid-air. "What kind of 'something'?"
"You'll see," he said, his tone giving nothing away.
"I'm not sure I want to see anything," Clara replied cautiously.
Benjamin leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on her. "You're not a prisoner here, Clara. But if you want to understand why I do what I do, you'll need to step outside your comfort zone."
Clara bristled at his words. "I didn't ask to understand you. You're the one who kidnapped me, remember?"
Benjamin's expression darkened, but he didn't respond immediately. When he did speak, his voice was quieter, almost reflective. "Maybe I made a mistake bringing you into this. But now that you're here, I have no choice but to keep you safe."
"Safe?" Clara scoffed. "I don't feel very safe, Benjamin."
"You will," he said, his voice carrying a certainty that unnerved her.
Before she could argue further, Benjamin stood, motioning for her to follow him. Reluctantly, Clara rose from her seat and trailed after him as he led her out of the mansion and toward a sleek black car waiting in the driveway.
The drive was silent, the air inside the car heavy with unspoken tension. Clara watched the city blur past the tinted windows, wondering where he was taking her and why.
Eventually, they arrived at an unassuming building on the outskirts of the city. Benjamin parked the car and stepped out, gesturing for Clara to do the same.
"What is this place?" she asked as they approached the entrance.
"You'll see," he replied cryptically, holding the door open for her.
Inside, Clara was met with the sight of dozens of people—men, women, and children—gathered in a large, brightly lit room. The atmosphere was bustling but warm, with laughter and chatter filling the air.
Benjamin guided her through the room, nodding to a few people who greeted him with smiles and murmured thanks. Clara noticed the way their eyes lingered on him, filled with a mixture of gratitude and reverence.
"This is one of my safe houses," Benjamin explained as they reached a quieter corner of the room. "For people who've been hurt or displaced by the Moriartis and others like them."
Clara stared at him, taken aback. "You… help them?"
Benjamin nodded, his expression serious. "I can't undo the damage that's been done to them, but I can give them a chance to start over."
For a moment, Clara didn't know what to say. She looked around the room, taking in the faces of the people who seemed to regard Benjamin not with fear, but with gratitude. It was a side of him she hadn't expected, and it left her feeling strangely conflicted.
"Why show me this?" she asked finally.
"Because you need to know that my world isn't black and white," Benjamin said. "There's good and bad in what I do. And if you're going to survive in it, you need to understand both."
Clara didn't respond. She wasn't sure she could. The man standing before her was still the same ruthless figure who had taken her from her home, but there was something else beneath the surface—something she wasn't sure she wanted to see.
As they left the safe house and headed back to the mansion, Clara couldn't help but feel that the lines between right and wrong, good and evil, were becoming increasingly blurred. And Benjamin—complex, enigmatic Benjamin—was at the center of it all.