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CHAPTER 63

Penulis: Shadyside2004
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-10-11 17:43:55

The smell of damp wood and boiled cabbage filled the air before she even opened her eyes. Elisa stirred, the faint murmur of voices somewhere nearby tugging at the edge of her consciousness. Her body felt heavy, limbs waterlogged, and when she tried to shift, pain rippled through her like a warning.

“Careful now,” a woman’s voice snapped — sharp but curious. “She’s waking up.”

Elisa’s eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was a low, cracked ceiling lined with spiderwebs. Then a shadow loomed over her — a woman with hard eyes and a smile that didn’t quite reach them. Her hair was streaked with gray and tied back in a ragged scarf, her dress faded from years of wear. Behind her stood a man whose beard looked as though it had been trimmed with a dull knife, his eyes small and calculating.

“Well, look at that,” the woman said, voice softening into something falsely sweet. “It seems she has woken up after all.”

Elisa blinked, disoriented. The last thing she remembered was fire — the
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    The bathroom door was closed.Elisa leaned over the sink, gripping the porcelain so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her reflection stared back at her—pale, hollow, eyes rimmed red. Sweat clung to her temples, damp strands of newly dyed black hair sticking to her cheeks.Her stomach twisted violently.She barely managed to turn before retching again, her body convulsing as bile burned her throat. The sound echoed too loudly in the quiet space. She coughed, gasping, eyes watering as she straightened with trembling hands.“Pull yourself together,” she whispered hoarsely.For days now, every meal had betrayed her. Her body, weakened from months of starvation, rejected nourishment like poison. Eat—vomit. Eat—vomit. Over and over again.She rinsed her mouth, pressing a shaking hand to her aching stomach, breathing through the nausea until it dulled.That was when she heard a different voice, not that of the assistant and receptionist she had met earlier on. This one sounded more mascul

  • LOVE BENEATH RIVALRY    CHAPTER 84

    Darkness swallowed her.The gunshot echoed endlessly, louder and louder, until it became—“Ma'am. Mrs. Rowan.”Her eyes flew open.“Elisa—we’ve arrived.”She gasped sharply, hand flying to her chest. Her heart was racing violently, her breathing uneven, shallow. For a moment, she couldn’t move. She was soaked in cold sweat, her hair clinging to her temples, her hands trembling uncontrollably.The driver turned slightly in his seat, concern flickering across his face.“Are you alright, ma’am?”She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as the image of Leonard’s smile, the gun, the alley, all dissolved into the dim interior of the car.“…Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m fine.”A dream.Just a dream.She pressed her fingers into her palms, grounding herself, forcing her breath to slow. Leonard wasn’t here. He hadn’t found her. She was safe. She had been safe for three months.Still, it took effort to open the car door.The towering building loomed before her, glass and steel reaching into th

  • LOVE BENEATH RIVALRY    CHAPTER 83

    Three months had passed.Three months since Elisa had crossed the gates of Rowan’s villa.Three months since she had last stepped into the outside world.The days blurred together inside those walls—quiet, heavy, suffocating. Curtains were always drawn. Doors always locked. Footsteps always made her flinch. Even sunlight felt dangerous, like it could betray her location to the wrong eyes.She hadn’t left.Not once.Not for air.Not for walks.Not for freedom.Fear had become her second skin.The phone rang.Elisa stared at it for a long time before answering.“…Hello?”“Elisa.” Rowan’s voice came through, calm but firm. “You didn’t eat again, did you?”She swallowed. “I wasn’t hungry.”“You haven’t been hungry for three months,” he replied quietly.She said nothing.“I want you to come have lunch with me,” Rowan said. “At my office.”Her heart dropped.“No.” The word came out sharp, instinctive. “I can’t.”“Why?”“You know why,” she whispered. “I don’t go out.”“Elisa—”“I don’t leave

  • LOVE BENEATH RIVALRY    CHAPTER 82

    For a moment, Damian didn’t move.He simply stared at her as though the words had struck him physically.“…What?” he whispered.Elisa sat rigid on the edge of the bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap, fingers trembling so badly she had to press them together to keep them still. Her eyes were lowered, her shoulders hunched inward like she was bracing for impact.Damian took one step toward her.“I—what did you say?” he asked again, louder this time, disbelief sharpening his voice. “Elisa, what did you just say?”Before she could answer, he rushed forward and grabbed her arm.His grip was firm—too sudden.She flinched violently.Her breath hitched, eyes widening in instinctive terror.Damian froze instantly.“I—I’m sorry—!” He released her at once, hands lifting in surrender. “God—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I just—I thought I misheard you.”He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of her again—this time keeping a c

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    A week had passed.Seven days since Elisa had woken up in a strange bed, in a strange house, with the ghost of death still clinging to her skin.Seven days of quiet.The house Damian lived in was nothing like the Greyhound estate. It was large, yes—clearly expensive—but it didn’t feel like a fortress. There were no armed guards standing at every corner, no suffocating silence laced with threat. Sunlight streamed freely through wide windows. The walls were painted in warm, neutral tones. Everything felt… lived in.Safe.And yet, safety was something Elisa still didn’t know how to exist inside of.She spent most of her days in one of the guest bedrooms—her room now—sitting by the window or curled up on the bed, lost somewhere between memories and exhaustion. Damian never forced her to talk. Never demanded explanations. He moved around her carefully, as if afraid a single wrong step might shatter her.Their relationship changed slowly, cautiously.Every morning, without fail, Damian brou

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    Leonard sat alone in his home office, the world reduced to silence and soft breathing.The room was vast, lined with dark mahogany shelves filled with leather-bound volumes and framed oil paintings—artifacts of power, wealth, and history. Heavy curtains filtered the afternoon light into a warm amber glow, casting elongated shadows across the polished floor. Normally, the room felt cold, suffocating. A place where orders were issued and lives were ended with a flick of his wrist.But today, it was different.Cradled carefully in his arms was a small bundle wrapped in pale blue fabric.His son.Leonard’s grip was firm yet strangely gentle, one hand supporting the infant’s head, the other curled protectively around his tiny back. His posture—so often rigid, predatory—had softened. His shoulders were relaxed. His breathing slow.The baby stirred slightly, making a small, content sound, and Leonard instinctively adjusted his hold, his thumb brushing against the child’s cheek with an unfami

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