The morning light filtered through the mansion's tall windows in long, thin streams, painting stripes across the polished floors. Selene sat rigid in the chair at her small breakfast table, the toast untouched in front of her. Camille moved around the room silently, placing her plate with exact precision, her eyes constantly scanning for errors, for signs of distraction. Every movement Selene made was mirrored by awareness, every breath measured in invisible increments.
Selene's mind refused to settle. The mansion had not yet consumed her completely, but it was closing in, a slow, deliberate pressure against her chest. She could still hear the faint hum of the security systems, the whisper of cameras hidden in the corners. Even as she tried to convince herself it was just precaution, part of her knew it was also a warning: nothing in this house escaped Adrien's control.
Her fingers absentmindedly traced the ring on her hand, cold and heavy, a constant reminder that her life was no longer her own. She had signed, agreed, and yet the weight of that simple metallic band was more suffocating than the walls around her. She was married. To a man she barely knew. To a man who could destroy everything she loved in an instant or protect it with equal ruthlessness.
The faintest vibration in her pocket startled her. Selene hesitated before pulling out her phone. No messages. No missed calls. Just a small alert she hadn't seen before: a single line of text.
They are coming for you.
Her breath caught. The words were blunt, cold, deliberate. Not a threat, not a warning, just a statement of fact.
eleneSelene dropped the phone onto the table. She couldn't help the small, involuntary shiver that passed through her. She glanced toward the window, the perfect garden beyond, the impossibly tall gates. Safe? That word had lost all meaning.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor made her tense, her hands tightening around the edge of the table. Camille entered with her usual silent precision, holding a small tray with her tea. "He is aware," she said, almost conversationally, though the words had the weight of a command. "You must remain inside until instructed."
Selene blinked. "Aware of what?"
"The threat," Camille replied simply. "It is real."
The room seemed to tilt. Real. Real enough to bypass theory, to bypass imagination. Real enough to remind Selene of the contract she had signed, the ring she now wore, the man who had married her before sunrise. Adrien Moreau's protection was not a promise; it was a line drawn in blood, and someone had just crossed it.
Selene tried to rise, but Camille's hand was on her shoulder, firm and unyielding. "Do not move," she warned. "Do not speak. He will determine what happens next."
Her chest tightened further. Adrien. He was always watching, always calculating. If the threat was real, then he knew. If he knew, then she could do nothing except wait. And that waiting felt like drowning.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time had lost its shape in the mansion. Each sound outsid, every rustle of leaves, every distant car engine, every soft step in the corridor became a potential omen. Her mind filled with visions she could not control; masked men at the gates, guns aimed at her chest, a scream swallowed before it left her throat.
A soft click echoed from the door. Selene froze. Camille's posture stiffened. Adrien's voice followed, calm, measured, and lethal.
"Step away from the window," he said.
Selene obeyed instantly. She did not need to see him to feel his presence. He had a way of existing in a room without entering it, a weight that pressed the air against her lungs. Her pulse hammered, a frantic drum that refused to slow.
Adrien entered. His black suit was immaculate, his expression composed, yet his eyes held the storm that had terrified her from the beginning. He moved to stand beside her, taller, broader, immovable. The room felt smaller with him there, tighter, sharper.
"They are close," he said, voice low, almost a growl. "They've been watching, waiting for the first mistake. For a sign of weakness."
Selene swallowed, her throat dry. "Who?" she whispered.
Adrien's eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not answer immediately. Instead, he surveyed the room, the cameras, the doors, the subtle points of vulnerability he had already accounted for. Finally, he said, "People who have underestimated me before. People who thought my walls were decorative rather than deadly. They were wrong."
The words were not reassurance. They were promise. And the way he spoke them made Selene's stomach turn, not with fear of her own life, but with fear of what Adrien would do to protect it.
Camille set down a tray of untouched food, her eyes flicking between them. "I have prepared evacuation routes," she said, her voice clipped, professional. "You will not need them unless instructed."
Adrien's hand lifted slightly, a subtle signal, and Camille straightened, acknowledging his control. Selene watched him, realizing with a cold clarity that the mansion was not just walls and security but it was also him. Every measure, every silent order, every shadow of protection, came from him. She was protected, yes, but the cost was a constant, invisible vigilance that left her no space to breathe.
Adrien moved closer, his presence suffocatingly near. "Do you understand what this means?" he asked. Not a question, but an exam.
Selene nodded, though her voice failed her.
"It means," he continued, his tone dropping, dangerous, deliberate, "that you will do nothing without my knowledge. You will eat when allowed. You will sleep when allowed. You will move only when permitted. One wrong action, one glance at a pattern you do not understand… and the people coming for you will find a corpse before they even reach the gate."
She nodded again, unable to speak. The words left her shaking, the reality of her situation pressing down with unbearable weight. Adrien's eyes softened briefly. A fraction of a second that was gone before she could even register it. "Do you trust me?" he asked.
Selene's hands shook as she reached for the tea cup Camille had set down. "I… I don't know if I can," she whispered.
"You don't have a choice," he said simply. Not cruel, not dismissive, simply factual. The mansion itself seemed to respond. The curtains rustled in a way that mimicked a shiver. Cameras blinked. Doors locked silently behind invisible barriers. Even the air felt thicker, as if the house had heard their conversation and approved.
Adrien placed a hand on her shoulder, firm, grounding. "You are safe," he said. "As long as you obey. As long as you listen. As long as you survive under my rules." Selene closed her eyes, trying to absorb the calm in his voice. Trying to hold onto it while the danger pressed closer from the streets outside, beyond the gates, in the invisible paths of surveillance and shadows.
Camille moved behind Adrien, a silent guardian. "The perimeter is secure. The inner rotations have begun. They will not breach unless you are endangered."
Adrien nodded slightly. "Good. But that is only the first wave. They will test the limits. See if I am distracted. See if the walls falter."
Selene's stomach turned. "They're… going to try again?"
"They are already trying," Adrien said, his voice a low growl that made the hairs on her arms stand. "We just haven't allowed them to succeed yet. And they will not. Not while I stand between them and you."
The words were comforting and terrifying at once. She was safe, yes. But only because someone else had decided her life was worth bloodshed, calculated and deliberate. The thought made her feel helpless in a way she had never allowed herself before.
Adrien turned, his hand lingering for a fraction longer than necessary. "Prepare yourself," he said. "You will be watched more closely than ever. You will sleep less than you want. You will be aware of every shadow, every movement, every whisper of possibility. This is not paranoia. This is reality."
Selene swallowed. "And if I fail?"
"You won't," he said simply. "Because I will not allow it. And because you will learn quickly what failure costs. You are married, yes. But more than that, you are mine in the way the world respects ownership. And ownership… is enforced."
Her chest tightened again. She understood finally, the depth of the statement. Not possession, not a contract, not even marriage—ownership. Absolute, inescapable, lethal if violated.
She nodded, faintly, barely. Adrien's eyes softened just a fraction again, fleeting, impossible to hold onto. Then the sharp chime of a phone from the office upstairs snapped her attention. Camille's eyes flicked toward the sound, alert, calculating. Adrien's jaw tightened. He did not speak. He moved to the nearest monitor, scanning with a speed that made Selene's head spin.
"They're here," he said at last, voice calm but edged with something dangerous. "Closer than we anticipated. They underestimated me again. That is their mistake."
The rest of the morning passed in tense silence. Selene watched Adrien move through the house like a shadow of control, orchestrating security, adjusting cameras, redirecting guards, predicting threats before they existed. Every action was precise, methodical, deadly. Every glance at her reminded her that she was under his protection and under his scrutiny, inseparable yet entirely powerless.
And yet, despite the fear that gripped her, despite the suffocating weight of her new life, a spark flickered deep inside her. She would survive. She had to. And if she survived this first threat, she would begin to understand the magnitude of the man who had married her before sunrise.
For now, she simply remained seated, hands clasped around the tea cup Camille had refilled silently, listening to the hum of the mansion, the faint footsteps of guards, the precise control of Adrien Moreau. The first threat had arrived. And she had lived to see it.
But tomorrow, she knew, would demand more.
And Adrien would ensure she never forgot that safety always had a price.