Chapter Four: The House That Watched Me Breathe

The room was bigger than my entire apartment.

I stood in the doorway holding my pathetic little suitcase, trying not to look like someone who'd spent the last three years sleeping on a mattress with a spring digging into her ribs. King-sized bed. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A chandelier that probably cost more than I'd made in my whole life.

"This is excessive," I said.

Lucien glanced around like he was seeing it for the first time. "It's practical."

"For who? A small royal family?"

Marcus leaned against the doorframe, glass in hand, clearly enjoying this. "Wait till you see the closet. You could park a car in there."

I dropped my suitcase on the bed. It made a sad little thump against all that Egyptian cotton.

"So what's the catch?" I turned to face them. "Because nobody gives this much without expecting something back."

Elias stood by the window, arms crossed, staring out at the dark grounds. "Rest."

I blinked. "That's it?"

"For tonight," Lucien said.

I waited for the other shoe to drop. Conditions. Cameras. A list of things I wasn't allowed to do.

Nothing came.

"That makes me nervous," I admitted.

Marcus smiled. Not a smirk this time. A real smile. "Good. You're learning."

Lucien stepped closer. "You've been in survival mode for twenty-one years. That doesn't just switch off."

"I don't know how to switch it off," I said before I could stop myself.

Something shifted. Lucien nodded slowly. "You don't have to. Not yet."

They left me alone.

The door clicked shut and I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands. They were shaking.

I lay back and stared at the ceiling, trying to convince myself this was real. That I hadn't finally cracked and hallucinated three rich men with control issues.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock.

I sat up. "Yeah?"

The door opened. Elias stood there, not coming in, just waiting. "Dinner. If you want."

My stomach growled loud enough for him to hear. He didn't comment. Just waited.

The dining room was long and formal, but surprisingly normal. Lucien was on his phone. Marcus was already seated, spinning a fork between his fingers.

"This feels like a horror movie," I said, pulling out a chair. "The kind where the girl ignores every red flag because the house is pretty."

Marcus grinned. "Relax. If we wanted to kill you, we wouldn't feed you first. Poison's expensive. Lucien's cheap."

Lucien sighed. "Marcus. Stop."

"What? I'm being comforting."

I snorted despite myself.

Elias sat across from me, not next to me. That felt deliberate. Like he knew I needed the distance.

As I ate, I realized they were watching. Not creepy. Just... paying attention. The way I cut my food into small bites. The way I flinched when a server moved too quietly. The way I finally relaxed after the third bite of actual protein.

"You don't trust easily," Lucien said, setting his phone down.

"I trust patterns," I said. "And my pattern says people with money like this always want something."

Marcus leaned forward, serious now. "What if what we want is for you to stop living like you're waiting to be taken again?"

The room went quiet.

I set my fork down carefully. "That's not funny."

"Wasn't joking," he said softly.

Elias cut in. "Enough, Marcus."

Marcus held up his hands. "Right. Too soon."

I pushed my chair back. The legs scraped loud against the marble. "I need air."

Lucien nodded. "Elias"

"I've got it," Elias said, already standing.

We stepped onto a balcony overlooking the grounds. The night air was cold. I gripped the railing, knuckles white.

"You know what the worst part is?" I said.

Elias waited.

"I don't remember being taken. So it's like I'm mourning something I never even had. Grieving a life I don't recognize."

"That's still grief," he said quietly. "You don't need the memory to feel what's missing."

I turned to look at him. "And if I decide this is too much? If I want to go back to my mop and my shitty apartment?"

His jaw tightened. Not angry. Just... resolute. "We'll still protect you. From a distance if we have to. But we're not letting the world take you again."

That hit harder than any threat or rule ever could.

I exhaled slowly. "You're really intense for a brother."

The corner of his mouth lifted. Barely. "And you're really observant for someone who pretends not to care."

I looked away first.

When I went back to my room that night, I locked the door.

Not because I thought they'd come in.

But because for the first time in years, I felt safe enough to be afraid.

And somehow, that was the most terrifying thing of all.