Chapter Five: The Escape

Alliyah Agustin-Astley

To hell with waiting three more days.

The moment I opened my eyes that morning, I knew I couldn’t waste another second. I needed to escape this place—this prison draped in gold—and most of all, escape him.

Alexander Nicholas Astley might believe he could keep me locked away like one of his prized possessions, but I refused to play by his rules any longer.

Sleep had become impossible. Every night, questions clawed at my mind, dragging me into the same torturous cycle of why and how. 

Why did Chester sell me off like I was nothing more than a bargaining chip? What was Alexander truly after? And just how deep did this twisted, invisible chain between us go?

Over the past few days, I had forced myself to remain calm—to watch, to listen, to learn. The more I wandered through these marble corridors, the more I began to memorize every route, every pattern.

I learned which doors stayed unlocked longer than they should, which staircases the maids used, and which corridors the guards passed only once per hour.

Sometimes, I’d cross paths with men in dark suits, always moving in pairs, their eyes sharp and cold. Their presence suffocated me, yet I noticed something: they were predictable. They followed the routine. They believed no one would dare to run.

They didn’t know me.

“I have to see Chester and Kassandrah before that party,” I whispered to myself, pacing near the window. The late afternoon sun bled through the curtains, casting streaks of molten gold across the room. My reflection in the glass stared back at me—hollow-eyed but determined.

If I could get out of here, even for a few hours, I could finally uncover the truth. The plan was simple. Reckless, but simple.

By the time the clock struck ten, the hallways had fallen into an eerie silence. The echo of servants finishing their nightly rounds faded like distant whispers.

When Clara arrived with my evening tea, I pretended to be half-asleep, murmuring something incoherent. As soon as she left, I moved.

Earlier that day, I had taken one of the maid uniforms—a plain black dress with white cuffs and a small apron. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. I tied my hair into a loose bun, wiped the color from my lips, and forced my trembling hands to steady.

My pulse thundered as I stepped into the hallway.

The estate at night was a different world. Shadows clung to the walls, and the chandeliers dimmed to a warm amber glow, casting soft halos over the marble floor. The air was cold, thick with silence and secrets.

I carried a small tray to keep up appearances, mimicking the calm, efficient movements of the staff I’d observed. When two men in black passed me, they barely glanced my way. It worked.

Almost there, I told myself, my breath shallow. My destination was the west wing—the staff’s delivery entrance. Beyond it lay a narrow dirt road that led away from the gardens.

How did I know that place? I keep asking small questions to Clara, and she answers without suspicion. I also knew where they kept the uniforms hidden, which was why I managed to steal one.

Each step felt heavier than the last. My palms were slick with sweat, and I could feel my heart pounding in my throat.

“Almost there…” I whispered, fingers brushing the cool brass handle of the door. My chest tightened with a surge of relief—

“Going somewhere, Alliyah?” The voice was low, calm, and deadly.

I froze. Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.

Slowly, I turned around. Alexander stood partially cloaked in shadow, one hand buried in his pocket, the other holding a glass of red wine that caught the dim light like liquid fire. His tie hung loose, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, his gaze sharp enough to slice through me.

For a long, excruciating second, neither of us spoke. The faint ticking of a clock echoed between us.

“I—I was just…” I stammered, clutching the tray to my chest. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d help in the kitchen.”

He stepped forward, his eyes dragging over the maid uniform, the trembling of my hands, and the door behind me. His lips curved—not into a smile, but something darker.

“Help in the kitchen?” His voice was soft, mocking. “Wearing a stolen uniform… at midnight… standing by the exit?”

“I just—” I started, but the words tangled in my throat.

He took another step closer. I instinctively backed up until the door pressed against my spine.

“Do you take me for a fool, Alliyah?” he murmured. He set his glass down on a nearby table, the faint clink echoing like a warning bell. “Or did you truly think you could walk out of my house dressed like this?”

My pulse was racing so fast it hurt. “I don’t belong here,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of my own fear and anger. “I never asked for this—any of it!”

Alexander tilted his head slightly, studying me as though I were a puzzle only he could solve. “And yet,” he said quietly, “here you are. Wearing my ring. Sleeping under my roof.”

“No one gave me a choice! Do you think I’d want that if I wasn’t forced to be here?” I furiously screamed.

He moved closer—close enough for me to catch the intoxicating scent of his cologne, for his shadow to swallow mine. His hand came up, resting against the door beside my head, trapping me without touching me.

“You should know by now,” he murmured, his tone soft but venomous, “no one leaves this estate without my permission.”

My breath hitched. “I’m not your prisoner,” I shot back, though my voice trembled.

His eyes darkened, something dangerous flashing behind them. “No,” he said after a pause, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I could make you one if you keep testing my patience.”

The room felt suffocating. I wanted to scream, to shove him away, to break free—but his presence was paralyzing.

He reached up slowly and plucked the maid’s cap from my hair, letting the strands tumble down over my shoulders. His fingers brushed lightly against my neck, and I shivered despite myself.

“Go back to your room, Alliyah,” he said finally, his tone colder now, restrained but simmering with unspoken threat. “You don’t want to know your punishment.”

“Punishment?” I scoffed, though my voice shook. “I’m not a child, Alexander! I am a grown woman—capable of taking care of myself!”

In a flash, he stepped forward, pinning me to the door. The wood rattled beneath the impact, echoing the wild pounding of my heart.

“Do not test my patience,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. The sound of it slithered down my spine, both terrifying and… something else. Something I didn’t want to name.

He stepped back, the tension between us still crackling like static in the air. “Go back to your room,” he said again.

And though I wanted to fight, to say something, anything—I turned and walked away, my legs trembling beneath me, my heart caught somewhere between fear, fury, and the dangerous pull of a man I should have hated.