Luciana had returned to the mansion, her heart heavy as the hours ticked by. The estate, once a place of dreams, now felt like a gilded cage, its beauty masking the darkness within. She moved silently through the grand hallways, her footsteps muted by the thick carpets beneath her feet. The ornate chandeliers above cast a soft, golden glow, but it did nothing to warm the chill in her bones.
The thought of Yvette clung to her like a shadow, but Luciana knew she had little time to dwell on it. Glenn was a man of insatiable demands, and tonight, his mood was particularly grim. She could feel his presence even before she stepped into the drawing room—a room of cold marble and velvet that mirrored the discontent that had settled between them.
Glenn was sitting by the fire, a glass of dark red wine in his hand. His eyes, sharp and calculating, never missed a detail as she entered. "Luciana," he greeted her, his voice smooth but laced with an underlying tension. "You've been gone for quite a while. Were you enjoying the night air?" His words dripped with a sarcasm that sent a chill down her spine.
Luciana forced a smile, but it was thin, practiced. "Just a brief respite," she said, her voice steady but hollow. "I... needed some fresh air."
Glenn set his glass down with a soft clink, his eyes narrowing. "I'm sure. You've always enjoyed a bit of solitude, haven't you?" His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, as though measuring her every word, every movement.
Luciana's heart pounded in her chest, but she knew better than to show weakness. "Yes," she replied softly, her hand tightening around the fabric of her dress. "But the night here is too quiet sometimes. It... it reminds me of things I'd rather forget."
Glenn stood, walking toward her with deliberate steps. His presence was imposing, almost suffocating. He was tall, with a broad frame that made him seem even more formidable. When he reached her, he placed his hand on her shoulder, a touch that was too intimate, too heavy.
"You know," Glenn murmured, his breath warm against her ear, "sometimes silence speaks louder than words."
Luciana tensed, but she didn't pull away. She had learned long ago that resistance, while tempting, was futile. Glenn had a way of getting under your skin, of making you believe that what was happening was inevitable, even if it went against every instinct you had.
His fingers traced lightly along her skin, sending a wave of discomfort through her. "You don't need to pretend, Luciana," he said, his voice soft but laced with a dark undertone. "We both know you've been… distracted."
She swallowed, unsure of what to say. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them good. She knew what he meant. He knew about the nights she spent slipping away to check on Yvette. He knew about the quiet rebellion that simmered beneath her calm exterior. But there was no escaping him, no escaping the hold he had on her life.
Glenn leaned in closer, his lips brushing the edge of her ear as he whispered, "You and I both know that the real question is... how long you'll keep pretending that we're not bound by the same chains."
Luciana felt a shiver run down her spine. She closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself. "I don't pretend," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "I endure."
"Endure," Glenn repeated, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Such a quaint word for a woman like you. But you'll find that endurance has its own price."
Before she could respond, Glenn's hand moved, cupping her chin gently but with an unyielding force. He tilted her head upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold, calculating, and full of a twisted hunger that sent a surge of dread through her.
"You've kept your distance for long enough, Luciana," he said, his tone soft yet commanding. "But tonight, I think we'll change that."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Luciana knew what he was implying, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. She couldn't deny the way his presence made her feel—distant and yet uncomfortably close, as if his every action was a reminder of how far she had fallen.
Glenn's lips curled into a sly grin as he leaned down to kiss her. Luciana's breath hitched in her throat, her body betraying her in a way that disgusted her. She knew she had no power here. She knew that, despite everything, this was the price she paid for staying alive, for protecting Yvette.
The kiss was cold, almost clinical. There was no warmth, no tenderness. It was an act of possession, a reminder of the control he had over her life. She closed her eyes, letting the moment wash over her, trying to block out the part of her that wanted to scream, to flee.
But she stayed. She always stayed.
Later that night, after the affair had ended in the same empty, detached manner it always did, Luciana found herself alone in the cold silence of her room. The moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. She sat at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling in her lap.
Her thoughts drifted back to Yvette.
Her daughter, alone in the alleyway, waiting for the mother who could never stay.
Luciana's heart ached with a fierce, burning pain. She had failed her. But what could she do?
She had no choice but to endure. To keep pretending that everything would be fine.
But deep down, she knew that the price of her silence—of her compliance—was more than she could bear.
And it wasn't just Glenn who would make her pay.