SIENNA

She didn’t belong here.

But then again... neither did I. I didn’t have the right to be here or even feel this emotion that was creeping up in my chest. By right or by status, I wasn't even supposed to ever step foot into this house, talk less of standing next to Damien. But then, here we are.

The woman’s laugh was soft and indulgent, like a silk glove sliding over a hand. Very smooth “You haven’t changed at all, Damien,” she said, stepping forward like the room belonged to her, like he belonged to her.

Damien’s jaw ticked. He didn’t look at me. “Leave.”

His voice was cold enough to send a chill down my spine. I was sure she felt it too, but then she straightened up and then, she tilted her head. “No hello? No kiss on the cheek? You used to be better at this.”

I blinked slowly, my feet rooted to the marble. The same cold from earlier slid down my spine again, only now it was worse. This time, it was colder and it now felt wetter. Like falling into dark water with no bottom.

She turned to me next, giving me a smile that felt like a warning. “You must be the wife. Adorable.”

She casted me a condescending st

I didn’t reply. I couldn't trust my voice to not break.

“Who is she?” I asked, not because I wanted to know, but because silence was burning me alive.

He didn’t answer.

Of course he didn’t.

She didn’t flinch at the tension. “I’m the ghost,” she whispered, smile unwavering. “The kind men never bury right.” She stared back at Damien.

And then, as if she hadn’t just detonated something, she picked up her purse and walked out. Not a glance back. Her heels echoed, then faded. Gone.

But the damage? That stayed.

I didn’t look at Damien. I walked past him, fast. Up the stairs, down the hall, into the room that still didn’t feel like mine. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, pressing the lock in with a shaky breath.

Was she an ex?

A fiancée?

Someone he once loved? Still loved? He didn't speak to her like someone he loved, but then...

I sank to the bed. The clothes he’d mentioned earlier were laid out across the chaise: high-end, elegant, expensive. None of them really my style. Not really. Just like this place. Just like him.

I didn’t touch the clothes. I curled back under the duvet in the thin nightdress, my heart aching against my ribs.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was never supposed to stay.

I think... I think I just wanted someone to fight for me. Just once.

Not because I could offer them something.

Not because it was convenient.

But because they wanted to.

That thought followed me as sleep pulled me down.

~~~~~~

The dream was soft at first. Golden.

I was standing in a garden I’d never seen before. There were roses. Red, roses in that garden. It seemed endless, blooming as I walked barefoot through tall grass. The sun was warm. My dress was white and loose, like something from another time.

And I wasn’t alone.

A little girl was laughing ahead of me. She had dark curls and tiny feet that kicked up petals as she ran. “Mama!” she called.

Mama?

That word wrapped itself around my chest like ribbon and barbed wire.

I ran after her. The trees grew taller. The light got softer. I was smiling.

Until the wind shifted.

The roses started scattering.

The sky bled red.

And someone was standing by the edge of the trees.

Not Damien. Not Stepmom. Not even Grandmother.

It was a man I didn’t recognize. But he felt familiar. Tall. Broad. Wearing black. I couldn’t see his face. Only his mouth—twisting into a grin.

He reached for the child.

“No!” I screamed.

But I was frozen. My legs wouldn’t move. My voice barely carried.

The man knelt, whispered something to the girl, and she nodded. Smiling.

I woke up choking on air.

Sweat slicked my back. The duvet was tangled around my legs. The room was still dark.

My chest heaved.

A dream. Just a dream.

But it didn’t feel like one.

I sat up and clutched my knees to my chest, forcing my pulse to slow.

The little girl had called me Mama. And I’d believed it. With everything in me. Who was she? Who was the man?

I stood, restless, and padded to the window. The house was quiet and still.

I needed air.

I opened the balcony doors and stepped outside, the night breeze brushing my skin. I looked up at the stars. They didn’t care. They never did.

My fingers touched my cheek, the one Grandmother had slapped earlier.

It still throbbed. I still felt the finger sting on my face.

“You shouldn’t be awake.”

I turned.

Damien stood at the doorway, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hair damp like he’d just come from a shower. His eyes, as usual, unreadable.

I said nothing.

He walked over, slow. His presence loomed behind me.

“You dream loudly,” he muttered, as if the action of me dreaming and maybe screaming affected him. Maybe it did.

“I didn’t know that was possible.” I muttered. I've never screamed in my sleep though.

He shrugged, his eyes fixed down the balcony. “You were crying.” He said gruffly.

I turned my face away. “You still didn’t answer earlier.”

His jaw tightened. “That woman doesn’t matter. Besides. It's none of your business."

Right, because I was nothing to him. Of course it would be none of my business.

I waited for more. I didn’t get it.

“Do you love her?” I ask, despite his cold brush off.

His silence wasn’t cruel. It was... complicated.

“No,” he said finally. “Not anymore. Not in the way that matters.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “But I’m just a pawn, right? A piece on your chessboard?”

Another pause.

“You’re the queen in my game,” he said.

I scoffed. “Not in this dress, I’m not.” I mutter, thinking

He looked at me, eyes dragging over my face. “Then take it off.”

I stiffened.

His voice had no heat. No seduction. Just... quiet command. I didn't know he had heard me or that I had said it out loud.

“I meant—” he looked away, jaw tight. “—don’t wear anything they gave you again. We’ll burn it. From now on, you'll only wear what i buy you.”

My throat went dry.

I wasn’t used to kindness from monsters.

And make no mistake, Damien Lockwood was a monster. But maybe he was my monster now.

Or maybe I was just starting to get used to cages.

I stepped past him, back into the room.