05: Shadows in the Basement

(Mia POV)

Sunlight dragged me awake.

I turned away from the window, burying my face in silk pillows that smelled like lavender and money. My body ached from sleeping in a bed too big, too soft, too everything.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

I forced myself up, padding barefoot across cold marble toward the dining room. The smell hit me first—eggs, toast, something rich and buttery.

Robert stood at the table, setting down plates with careful precision. He looked up when I entered, and his face softened into something almost boyish.

"You made this?" I stopped at the doorway.

"I try sometimes." He smiled. Actually smiled. "To cook, I mean."

I nodded and sat, putting the table between us like a barrier.

The spread was ridiculous. Poached eggs with smoked salmon, hollandaise dripping gold over toasted English muffins. Fresh-squeezed juice. A bottle of Bellini sweating condensation.

"Eat." His voice was gentle.

I picked up my fork. The cutlery clinked against expensive china, filling the silence.

"I saw you first on a rainy day." Robert's voice was soft, distant. "In the countryside. You wore a flowery dress—short, soaked through. You looked beautiful. And devastated."

I stopped chewing.

"You stood under a kiosk, crying. I wanted to know why. So I walked over, and I heard you say—" He paused, meeting my eyes. "I wish I could go away from my father forever. I wish he wasn't my father."

My fork clattered against the plate.

"You wished you weren't his daughter. Remember?"

My mind lurched backward. That day. The rain. My first paycheck stolen. Dad's hand across my face, his words cutting deeper than the slap.

A stranger had handed me a tissue. When I looked up to thank him, he was gone.

"It was you?" My voice shook.

"Yes. I never thought I'd see you again."

"This isn't fate." My fist tightened around the fork until my knuckles went white.

"Then what is it? Coincidence?"

"It's cruel. It's heartless. You married me against my will."

"I helped you fulfill what you wanted most—freedom from him. That's kindness."

"I don't want to be a divorcee like my mother." The words ripped out of me, too loud, too raw.

Robert leaned forward. "Then stay with me. Forever."

His eyes held mine, steady and sure and infuriating.

"I hate you." My voice cracked. "I hate this marriage. You knew my father had nothing. Why did you lend him that much money?"

"What was I supposed to do when he looked desperate?" Robert's voice went cold, flat. "I don't forgive debts. You pay what you owe."

He stood and walked away without looking back. Toward the basement.

---

I sat alone with my breakfast going cold.

That day came back in pieces. Sharp. Cutting.

I'd worked doubles at the coffee shop for months, saving every dollar for university entrance fees. Finally had enough. Finally had a way out.

Then Dad found it.

"You're worthless like your mother." His face was twisted, ugly with drink and rage. "I wonder why she never took you with her."

"I'm not worthless." I'd yelled back, my voice breaking. "I'm not her. Stop comparing me to her."

His hand came so fast I didn't see it. Just felt the sting, the burst of heat across my cheek. Then he grabbed the envelope—all my savings, all my hope—and staggered back inside.

I ran. Didn't know where I was going, just away. The rain caught me halfway to nowhere, and I collapsed under that kiosk, letting the downpour drown out my sobbing.

A stranger appeared. Handed me something to wipe my tears. Vanished before I could thank him.

Robert.

It had been Robert.

And now he'd bought me like I was something he'd been waiting to collect.

I stood, my chair scraping loud against the floor.

The basement. He'd gone to the basement.

Mrs. Cara's warning echoed. *Stay away from the basement.*

I moved toward it anyway.

---

The hallway stretched long and dark. The light overhead flickered, casting shadows that moved like living things.

The basement door was heavy. It groaned when I pushed it open.

Stairs descended into blackness so complete it felt solid.

"Robert?" My voice came out small, swallowed by the dark.

Nothing.

I pulled out my phone, hands shaking as I turned on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing stone steps, rough walls, nothing else.

I started down.

Each step felt wrong. The air grew colder, thicker. I could barely breathe.

"Robert?" Louder this time.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Deliberate. Coming from below.

Terror locked my lungs. I turned and ran, my feet pounding the stairs, phone swinging wild, the light jumping everywhere and nowhere.

I stumbled. Caught myself. Kept running.

I slammed into something solid at the top.

Arms wrapped around me. Strong. Steady.

I looked up.

Robert's face, inches from mine. His eyes wide with concern, his grip firm but gentle.

"Robert." His name came out as a sob.

My phone clattered to the floor, the flashlight spinning, throwing wild shadows across the walls.

My legs gave out. He caught me, lifting me like I weighed nothing, carrying me down the hall to my room.

He laid me on the bed with care. His face was so close I could feel his breath against my skin, warm and unsteady.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

His eyes searched mine, and I saw it—sadness. Regret. Something deeper that looked almost like guilt.

My heart hammered. His lips were right there. Close enough to...

But his expression stopped me cold.

Whatever he was hiding in that basement, whatever secrets lived in the dark beneath this beautiful house—he wasn't ready to share them.

And I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

He pulled back slowly, standing. "Rest. Please."

Then he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

I lay in the too-big bed, staring at the ceiling, my pulse still racing.

What was Robert hiding?

And why did I feel like finding out might destroy us both?