Chapter 10

In front of the Blackwell mansion, Lydia hurried toward the car, her body wrapped in a cream-colored coat that was too thin for the cold air. However, it wasn't the cold air that made her shiver, but rather the strange feeling that had been following her since morning.

She glanced back one last time before getting into the car. Across the street, behind the black iron fence, she saw someone standing still. When she tried to focus, the figure had already disappeared.

Lydia took a deep breath. "Maybe it was just my imagination," she whispered, though her heart wasn't so sure.

But throughout the drive to the Blackwell family charity office, the feeling didn't go away. She saw her reflection in the car window. A black sedan seemed to be following from a distance. She pretended not to notice, but her hands were clenched tightly in her lap.

---

In the quiet room on the second floor of the mansion, Damien stood in front of the window, watching the rain begin to fall. He already knew. Since yesterday, William had begun assigning his men to watch Lydia. When footsteps approached, Damien turned around. Lydia stood in the doorway, her face pale, her hair slightly tousled by the wind.

"He knows," Lydia said bluntly. "William knows I often go out without a bodyguard. He sent someone to follow me."

Damien looked at her sharply. "I already suspected him."

Lydia approached him, her voice soft. "You said I was safe. But it turns out I'm not."

"I said as long as you're careful." Damien walked toward her, stopping a few steps in front of her. "William isn't someone who's easily fooled. Once you show weakness, he'll find everything."

He stopped, unable to continue. But Lydia knew what he meant.

"Damien," Lydia whispered. "What does he really know?"

Damien shook his head. "More than you think. He not only suspects our closeness, but also a bigger plan. You have to stay away from me for a while."

Lydia fell silent, staring into Damien's dark, anxious eyes. "You're asking me to pretend I don't care about you anymore?"

"Better than putting you in danger."

---

Over the next few days, William began to show a different side of himself. Not overt anger, but a subtle internal pressure.

He started showing up in the same places as Lydia more often. At dinner, he would stare at her intently while talking casually as if nothing was wrong. Sometimes he would touch her hand for no reason, or compliment her clothes in a tone that felt like a test.

One evening, in the dimly lit reading room, William looked at Lydia over his glass of red wine.

"You seem different lately," he said flatly. "More... restless. Is something bothering you?"

Lydia tried to smile. "Nothing."

"Really?" William leaned forward. "Don't you feel... guilty about something?"

The question was like a knife slowly approaching her chest. Lydia turned her head, trying to hold her breath to stay calm. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Of course you don't understand." William smiled coldly, then sipped his wine. "I just want to know, Lydia, are you still thinking about who saved your family... or have you forgotten who made you stay in this house?"

His voice was soft but poisonous. Lydia felt her blood boil, but she only replied softly, "I haven't forgotten."

"Good," said William as he stood up. "Because I don't like repeating lessons."

---

The days felt increasingly suffocating. Lydia couldn't go out without feeling watched. Every time she stepped into the mansion's hallway, eyes followed her. Even the servants seemed awkward when talking to her. One afternoon, as she tried to calm herself in the back garden, Damien appeared from the pavilion.

"You shouldn't be here," he said quickly. "William is at home.

"I can't stand being inside," Lydia replied softly. "It feels like a prison."

Damien sighed, then looked at her. "You can't keep doing this. He's starting to get suspicious."

Lydia looked into his eyes desperately. "What if he finds out everything? About you, about the notes, about us?"

Damien leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You can't talk about that here."

"But I'm scared." Lydia's eyes began to well up. "I can't handle this alone."

Damien held her shoulders, his fingers warm but tense. "I know. But we have to be careful. William always has a way of making people talk."

Lydia nodded slowly, but her heart was not at ease.

---

That night, William entered Lydia's room without knocking.

Lydia was reading, but her body tensed when she heard the door open. William entered, wearing a black shirt, his face calm but his eyes sharp as knives.

"You're not asleep yet," he said as he closed the door. "Neither am I."

Lydia swallowed. "What's wrong?"

William approached, looking around the room. "Just wanted to make sure of something. Lately, I feel like you've been pulling away from me."

"That's not true," Lydia tried to smile. "I'm just... tired."

"In that case," William smiled faintly, "sleep in my room tonight. I want you by my side."

Lydia froze. "What?"

"You're my fiancée, Lydia. Or have you forgotten?" His tone was soft, but his command was absolute. Without waiting for an answer, William took her hand and led her out of the room.

Lydia knew she had no choice. Refusing would only raise new suspicions.

---

That night felt long. William finally fell asleep on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, while Lydia stared at the ceiling in the darkness. Tears streamed silently down her face. Outside, a light rain fell, tapping on the windowpane like a whisper that never stopped. In the corner of her mind, there was only one face. Damien's face.

A few days later, Lydia rarely left her room. Yet fate still found a way to bring them together. That afternoon, in the corridor leading to the music room, Damien and Lydia bumped into each other by accident. Just a fleeting moment, but enough to make time stand still. No words were spoken. Only a gaze that was too long to be called a coincidence. Lydia turned her face away, but Damien managed to whisper quickly, almost inaudibly, "Stay strong. I'll take care of this."

However, that calm did not last long. One night, William came home earlier than usual. His face was expressionless, but his steps were heavy. He went straight to his study without speaking to anyone.

A few minutes later, the office door slammed shut.

The maid ran away in fear. Lydia, who was in the hallway, turned toward the sound and saw William standing in the doorway, his hands holding several photos.

His face was red, his eyes flashing with anger. He stared at Lydia with an expression that made her blood run cold.

"What is this?" His voice was almost hoarse, but full of anger. He threw one photo on the floor. Lydia looked down and her breath caught in her throat.

It was a photo of her and Damien. In the backyard. Damien was looking at her, too close, too familiar.

Lydia looked at William, her face pale. "I can explain—"

"Explain what?" William approached her, his voice rising. "That you betrayed me with my own brother?"

"It's not what you think!" Lydia tried to back away, but William punched the table hard, shattering the glass on top of it.

"Enough!" he shouted. "You think I'm stupid? I knew from the start there was something between you two! I was just waiting for proof!"

Lydia held her breath, her whole body trembling. Behind William's anger, there was something even more frightening. An obsessive gaze, as if Lydia was no longer a human being, but his property that no one else was allowed to touch.

William approached slowly, his voice low but threatening. "You dare to play games with me, Lydia Hart, you'll regret it."

His voice was as cold as ice. "Starting tonight, no one is allowed to leave this house without my permission."

Lydia couldn't say anything. The world around her was spinning. She could only hear her own heartbeat and William's words echoing in her head like a poisonous mantra.

"I have never lost anything that belonged to me."

---

In the second-floor bedroom, Damien stood at the window, staring at the garden now drenched by the heavy rain. From a distance, he saw the light in Lydia's room turn on, then off.

He knew William already knew.

And he knew... the storm he had been holding back had finally erupted.