The estate was cloaked in twilight by the time Avery found herself in the grand dining hall. A long mahogany table stretched across the room, set for an elaborate dinner. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, their light casting a cold glow over the polished silverware and pristine porcelain plates.
Ezra sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair, a glass of wine swirling lazily in his hand. He looked perfectly composed, as if the events of the previous night had left no mark on him.
"Sit down, Avery," he said, his voice smooth but firm.
Avery hesitated for only a moment before taking a seat midway down the table. The space between them felt vast, every breath and clink of cutlery echoing loudly in the silence.
"You've barely touched your food," Ezra remarked, his sharp gaze locking onto her. "Are you ill? Or is this another one of your little moods?"
Avery set her fork down, her voice quiet but steady. "I'm not hungry."
Ezra smirked faintly, though his eyes remained cold as they flicked toward her. "You'll need to do better than that, Avery. The guests arriving tomorrow will expect you to play your part."
"Guests?" Avery's head snapped up.
Ezra leaned back in his chair, studying her with something almost like amusement. "Yes. A gathering for some business associates. You'll smile, you'll nod, and you'll be silent unless spoken to. Do you understand me?"
Avery's stomach churned, but she nodded. The polished smiles, the sharp gazes, the whispered conversations—they were all so familiar.
Ezra rose from his chair, his wine glass still in hand. He walked past her, pausing briefly at her side.
"Wear something appropriate."
And just like that, he left the dining hall, leaving Avery alone at the table, her hands clenched into fists in her lap.
The night stretched on, but Avery couldn't find sleep. She paced her room restlessly, her mind a whirl of tangled thoughts. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through her curtains, casting pale streaks across the floor.
A distant noise caught her attention—a door creaking open somewhere down the hall.
Avery hesitated before stepping out of her room. The hallway was dim, the only light coming from wall sconces flickering faintly against the deep crimson wallpaper.
As she walked, her bare feet silent against the cold marble floors, she heard voices—low, urgent whispers coming from downstairs.
She paused at the top of the grand staircase, leaning over slightly to see the faint glow of light seeping from the slightly ajar study door.
Ezra's voice cut through the stillness, sharp and firm. "I don't want any mistakes. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," replied another voice—gruff, unfamiliar, like one of the estate guards.
"Good. Keep an eye on her. Report back if anything seems… off."
"Yes, sir."
Avery's breath hitched as she stumbled back, her bare feet silent against the marble. Keep an eye on her?
Her chest tightened as she turned back toward her room, her steps quicker this time.
When Avery returned to her room, she closed the door behind her and locked it. Her trembling hands pressed against the wood, and she fought to calm her breathing.
What are you hiding, Ezra?
Her gaze fell on her desk, where a faded leather journal sat. It had belonged to Evelyn—a relic left behind after her sudden disappearance. Avery had flipped through its pages before, but most of it was mundane—half-written poetry, sketches of flowers, lists of places Evelyn wanted to visit.
But now, in the heavy silence of her room, it felt different. Like a key she had overlooked.
Avery sat down and flipped open the journal, her fingers trembling as she skimmed through the pages. Toward the end, Evelyn's handwriting grew messier, more frantic.
"He's watching me. I know he is. No one believes me, but I can feel it—eyes on me every time I close my door, every time I turn a corner."
A chill ran down Avery's spine as she read the words.
"I'm not safe here. I need to get away before it's too late."
The entry ended abruptly, the ink smudged, as if Evelyn had been interrupted.
Before she could process any of it, a faint knock echoed from her door.
She froze.
The knock came again—sharp, forceful.
"Avery," Ezra's voice called from the other side. "Open the door."
She stayed frozen in place, her breathing shallow.
"Avery." His voice was firmer this time, edged with impatience.
Slowly, she rose from her chair and approached the door. Her hand hovered over the lock, but something deep in her chest screamed at her not to open it.
"I'm tired, Ezra," she said softly. "Please… let me sleep."
There was silence on the other side of the door. For a moment, she thought he might leave.
But then, with a sharp crack, the door burst open. The wooden splinters flew across the floor as Ezra stormed inside.
Before Avery could react, his hand lashed out, striking her across the face so hard she hit the floor with a dull thud. Stars exploded behind her eyes as pain radiated across her cheek.
"Did you think locking the door would stop me?" Ezra's voice was sharp, cold.
He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her to her feet. Avery cried out in pain, her hands flying to his wrist in a futile attempt to lessen the pull.
"You think you can defy me? Ignore me?" He shoved her backward, and she crashed against the edge of her desk, papers scattering across the floor.
Avery gasped for air, her ribs aching from the impact. But Ezra wasn't finished. He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, forcing her face down against the desk.
"You belong here, Avery. You'll do as I say, when I say it. Do you understand me?"
His grip tightened painfully, and Avery could barely choke out, "Y-Yes…"
Ezra released her abruptly, and she crumpled to the floor, clutching her arm and gasping for breath.
He loomed over her, his shadow swallowing her whole.
"Clean yourself up," he said, his voice sharp. "And don't ever lock that door again."
With that, he turned and walked out, leaving the door hanging crookedly on its broken hinges.
Avery stayed on the floor for a long time, curled into herself, trembling.
The silence of the estate settled around her like a heavy shroud, and Avery could feel it—the same dread Evelyn had felt.
She had never been safe here. And she never would be.