It was already past midnight, and Lilia couldn't remember the last time she'd stayed awake this late. Her entire body begged for rest—her eyelids heavy, her muscles sluggish—but her mind refused to quiet. Sleep tugged at her relentlessly, yet she fought it off with sheer determination. She couldn't afford to give in, not when there was so much to plan.
She had to escape.
But how?
Every possible option unraveled into complications. And even if she succeeded, one question gnawed at her relentlessly: What comes next?
The thought lingered like a shadow, dark and ominous. She shook her head, pushing the fear aside, but it clung stubbornly to her consciousness. The world beyond these walls wasn't some fairy tale. Starting over wouldn't magically solve her problems. What if she ended up homeless, begging for scraps on the street? The image of herself—hungry and destitute—was foreign, even absurd. It made her feel foolish to entertain the idea of running away in the first place.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Of course, they'd call me a spoiled brat, she thought. Even if she wasn't one, the world would see her that way. Entitled. Clueless.
The car slowed to a stop, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. Lilia blinked, glancing out the window just as the gates ahead swung open with a soft, eerie creak.
The vehicle eased forward, rolling onto the mansion's grounds.
Her breath hitched.
It wasn't just a mansion—it was a..castle.
The structure loomed ahead, grand and intimidating, steeped in a kind of history that whispered of old money and power. Its sheer size was overwhelming. Towering spires reached into the dark sky, and every corner seemed to gleam with extravagance. This wasn't just wealth; it was something far beyond that.
She stared, her thoughts stumbling over themselves. Does Zethan live here alone?
The idea seemed absurd. A place like this wasn't meant for one person. It was too vast, too opulent, too… lonely.
Just how rich is he?
Before she could think further, the car came to a halt. The driver stepped out first, walking around to open her door. Lilia hesitated before stepping out, her gaze still fixed on the enormous estate before her.
She followed the lady into the mansion. If the exterior had stunned her, the interior left her breathless.
It was modern yet timeless, as though designed to capture both the past and the future in one sweeping gesture. Polished marble floors gleamed under the warm glow of ornate chandeliers. Towering ceilings seemed to stretch endlessly above her, and every corner was adorned with intricate details that spoke of both artistry and unimaginable expense.
The air itself felt different—cool, pristine, and faintly perfumed with something floral and luxurious.
She swallowed hard. How could one man live in a place like this?
The vastness of the space unsettled her. It was so large that even if a hundred people lived here, it might still feel empty.
They ascended a grand staircase, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the silence. The assistant led her down a long corridor, finally stopping in front of an ornate door. She turned to Lilia with a polite smile.
"Miss Lilia, this is your room," the woman said, her voice soft and formal.
Lilia nodded, managing a faint smile. "Thank you. I'm very grateful," she replied quietly.
"There's no need to thank me, Miss Lilia," the assistant said with a gentle shake of her head. "It's my job, and I'm honored to serve you."
With that, the woman left, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Lilia hesitated, her hand resting on the door handle. She took a deep breath before pushing it open.
The room was vast, almost as large as the ground floor of her family's entire home. The bed alone could have fit three people comfortably she did not pay much attention to that. Yet, for all its grandeur, the atmosphere felt suffocating.
The weight of the mansion pressed down on her even here, and her exhaustion amplified the oppressive feeling. Her head throbbed faintly, her vision blurring with fatigue. She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples as she stepped further into the room.
The large windows across the room caught her eye. She moved toward them, her steps slow and deliberate. Peering out, she tried to assess the height.
Her heart sank.
The ground was far below, a dizzying drop that made escape seem nearly impossible. She clenched her fists, frustration bubbling within her. She couldn't afford to give up, but the odds were stacked against her.
And then, she heard it.
A low chuckle.
The sound was deep, dark, and smooth—like velvet sliding across steel.
Lilia froze.
Her heart lurched in her chest, her breath catching as she whipped around. Her gaze darted across the room, her pulse quickening with every second.
Who's here?
The room was supposed to be empty. No one had said anything about someone else being there. Had the assistant made a mistake?
Before she could call out or make sense of the situation, a deep voice broke the silence.
"I see you're quite fond of windows."
Lilia's breath hitched. The voice was rich and commanding, with an undertone of mockery that sent a shiver down her spine.
She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on the figure lounging casually on the bed.
Her heart stopped.
It was him.
Zethan.
He was sprawled on the bed as though he owned not just the room, but the very air she breathed.
But that wasn't what stunned her most.
He wasn't wearing his mask.
Lilia had encountered her fair share of handsome men, but Zethan was something else entirely. His features were flawless, almost inhumanly so. Dark, piercing eyes met hers, sharp and unyielding. His nose was perfectly sculpted, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. His disheveled silver hair only added to his allure, and his lips—full and pink—seemed to hold a permanent smirk.
She tried to look away.
'Lilia, stop staring. You look like a diehard fan
Her inner voice screamed at her, but it was as though her body had betrayed her. She couldn't tear her gaze from him. It was as if he had cast some sort of spell over her, rendering her utterly powerless.
His sudden laughter broke the spell.
"I suggest you close your mouth if you're not ready to speak," he said, his tone smooth but edged with amusement.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized her mouth had been slightly open. She quickly turned her face to the side, mortified.
After a moment, she forced herself to look back at him, determined to regain her composure.
"I believe there's been a mistake," she said, her voice quieter than she intended. "This must be your room, Mr. Zethan."
He chuckled again, the sound sending chills down her spine. There was no warmth in his laughter—only something cold and unsettling.
"There is no mistake, Loris. This is your room," he said calmly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I decided."
Her brows furrowed. Loris?
"Why would you decide that?" she asked her tone sharper now.
"I needed to familiarize myself with my wife-to-be," he said, his casual tone somehow making the words more disconcerting. "At least to know you a little."
Lilia stared at him, stunned. His confidence, his audacity—it was infuriating.
"You can do that after the engagement," she said curtly, masking her unease with forced calm.
Engagement that will never happen, she thought bitterly. Mr. Silver. The mocking nickname rolled through her mind.
To her shock, Zethan smirked, as though he had heard her thoughts.
"You're brave, little Loris," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "But tell me, where's the fun in that?"
Her breath caught. Fun?
Anger flared within her, hot and quick. Was this all some kind of game to him?
Before she could respond, Zethan shifted.
He moved with fluid grace, his posture shifting as though he was about to rise from the bed.
Thank goodness, she thought, relief washing over her.
But then he spoke again, his voice calm yet commanding:
"Come here, Loris. Sleep with me."
The seriousness in his tone sent a shiver through her.