Chapter 3.

The night air was colder than usual. Elena crouched behind the side fence of the mansion, her heart beating so fast that she feared her voice could be heard. Her fingers trembled as she touched the small key she had taken from a servant who still dared to whisper to her before disappearing.

Just a few more steps... just a few more steps...

Dry twigs crunched under her feet, the echo of her steps rumbling down the silent hallway. Her breath came in short gasps, her hands trembling as they pressed against the slippery lock. There, freedom seemed to be waiting, a path that led out of the forest, to the city, to Julian.

However, just as she was about to grab the gate's iron handle, a heavy voice stopped her.

"I knew you'd try this."

Elena turned her head quickly. The garden lights highlighted a tall, well built figure in a dark suit. Damien stood a few steps away from her, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his expression as cold as a shadow.

Damien stood still, hands in his pockets, his eyes watching her every move as if weighing the life of a prisoner.

"You know the stakes," he said quietly.

Elena swallowed, her body trembling. "I just want to leave. I just want to save Julian!" Her voice broke.

Damien raised a thin eyebrow, then turned to the two guards behind her. One held a tablet and played a video. The footage showed Julian. His sister lay in a hospital bed, her body weak. Two large men entered, then without hesitation pulled Julian's bed from the room to the narrow isolation room.

"No!" Elena shouted, reflexively stepping forward. "Don't do that! Please, don't hurt him!"

Damien remained silent, just staring at her coldly. Elena cried, her body almost falling over. She felt all the air in her lungs being sucked out. And then she realized: the only way to keep Julian alive was to give up.

---

In the days that followed, Elena was like a living corpse. Every mouthful was bland, her eyes could barely open, and every step made her head spin. Her body was a mere shadow of itself.

One morning, she fainted in the hallway in front of her room. When she woke up, she found herself lying in bed with a warm blanket wrapped around her. A middle aged doctor sat in a chair, writing something on a medical note.

"Calm down, ma'am. You're just too stressed. Your body needs rest."

Elena turned her head slowly. In the corner of the room, Damien stood. His body leaned against the wall, his hands folded. His eyes looked at Elena, but his face remained flat.

"Why..." Elena whispered softly, "why do you care?"

Damien didn't answer. He just turned around, leaving the room.

But Elena knew she was the one who called the doctor. She was the one who made sure Elena didn't just die. However, there was a thick wall between them. He kept his distance, as if afraid that something inside him would collapse if he got too close.

---

A few days later, someone's presence shook Elena.

Isolde stepped in, her red dress almost glowing in the dim room. Her lips smiled faintly, but her eyes stared intently, as if assessing whether Elena deserved to survive in the world she ruled.

"Elena Marlowe." Her voice was sweet, yet filled with venom. "I finally met the wife of the late Adrian."

Elena straightened up, trying to calm down. "Who are you?" Isolde chuckled. "Me? His former lover. Probably the only woman he ever truly loved."

The words hit Elena like a whip.

"Lies," she muttered.

"No, dear." Isolde moved closer, caressing the chair beside Elena as if to emphasize her power. "You're just a pawn. Adrian married you for family, not love. If you only knew, the night before your wedding, he came to see me. We were planning something."

Elena fell silent. Her chest felt tight, and her head spun. There was a part of her that wanted to believe, but her heart refused. No... Adrian couldn't be like that. He couldn't be...

But the doubts began to gnaw.

---

Later that night, as Elena walked the long corridor, she again heard a faint voice.

"Elena..."

She stopped, her body stiff.

The voice came from the direction of the old library.

With hesitant steps, she followed the faint echo. Her heart pounding, her eyes searched for the source of the voice. She arrived in front of the library door, an old carved wooden door, locked tightly with an iron padlock.

"Elena..." again, faintly, from behind the wall.

Her hand touched the doorknob, but she didn't move. Her tears fell without her realizing it.

"Adrian... are you really there?"

--

The next day, Elena ventured to question Damien.

They sat across from each other in the dining room. Elena gripped her spoon, trying to disguise her nervousness.

"That night..." her voice was quiet. "The night Adrian was kidnapped what exactly happened?"

Damien stopped eating. His eyes lifted, looking at Elena for a moment, as if considering whether he deserved to know the answer.

Finally, he said briefly and coldly, "Not everything you saw that night was true."

Elena froze. "What do you mean?"

Damien got up, putting down his napkin. "Eat. You need energy."

Then he walked away, leaving Elena with an increasingly tangled mind.

---

That day, while tidying up her room, Elena took out a small cupboard in the corner of the room. Unintentionally, a piece of paper fell out from behind the wooden board.

Her hand trembled as she picked it up.

The writing... she recognized it. Adrian's handwriting. Her hands trembled violently as she picked up the paper. Her breath came in short gasps, tears welling up in her eyes. Her heart screamed no. Adrian... is alive.

There was only one sentence, hurried but clear:

"I'm still here."

Elena covered her mouth with her hand, her body shaking violently. Her tears flowed freely. She wasn't crazy. She was not hallucinating.

Adrian... was alive.

And she vowed to find out the truth, even if the entire Blackthorne family tried to bury her in darkness.