ログインAdaline spun around instantly, her heart hammering violently against her ribs as the sound of footsteps echoed across the compound, sharp, deliberate, growing louder with every second, and panic surged through her because there was nowhere for her to explain herself, nowhere for her presence outside to make sense, especially not near the abandoned section of the house that she had no permission to be near. Her eyes darted rapidly across the space, searching desperately for escape, until she spotted a narrow alcove hidden behind thick climbing ivy, and without thinking, she slipped into it, pressing her back tightly against the cold wall, forcing herself to stay still as though she could disappear if she became quiet enough. The footsteps stopped nearby. A familiar voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding."Adaline!"She held her breath, every muscle in her body locked in place as Camilla stepped into view, her presence polished and intimidating, her sharp eyes scanning the
It has been over one week, one week that felt less like time passing and more like something slowly grinding her down, a cycle of constant torture disguised as discipline, ridicule wrapped in calm instructions, and labor that never seemed to end no matter how fast she worked or how carefully she tried to obey. The mansion itself no longer felt like a place of structure or quiet luxury, it had shifted into something heavier, something oppressive, a space filled with endless tasks that all seemed to find their way back to her until she became the only moving part left inside it. Camilla had dismissed every maid in the house, not as a permanent decision but as a calculated absence, sending them away under the excuse of returning when Ronan came back, yet their absence lingered like something intentional, like silence arranged on purpose, and from that moment onward every responsibility collapsed onto Adaline alone. She cleaned from morning until night, moving through floors that never
Camilla returned to the mansion dressed like she was stepping into a battlefield she already intended to win. Her outfit spoke before she did, tailored black trousers fitting her legs with sharp precision, an ivory blouse pressed flawlessly against her frame, and a structured blazer resting on her shoulders like armor designed for authority rather than comfort. Every detail of her appearance was intentional, every fold, every line, every polished surface announcing control. Her heels struck the marble driveway with deliberate rhythm, each step echoing with confidence that bordered on possession.As she approached the entrance, her eyes swept across the compound with a slow, assessing gaze. There were no familiar cars, no sign of movement that suggested he was anywhere near. The silence confirmed what she already suspected.So it's true. Ronan has traveled. A faint smile curved her lips, but it held nothing warm or pleasant. It was sharp, calculated, almost satisfied.Now is the time
Adaline woke up with a heaviness in her chest she could not explain. The room was quiet, bathed in the pale light of early morning, yet her mind refused to rest. The events of the previous night replayed relentlessly, too vivid, too sharp to ignore. She rose from the bed and went straight to the bathroom, letting the shower run hot as steam filled the space. She pressed her palms against the tiled wall, her head bowed as the water streamed down her hair. She should be feeling anger, resentment. She should have hated him. But her feelings betrayed her. Instead, all she had felt was something disturbingly close to pity. And worse, empathy. Her heart ached whenever she thought of him. Not because of what he had done to her family. Not because of the power he held over her life. But because behind his cruelty, she saw a man drowning in something he refused to name.She finished bathing, dressed quietly, and tied her hair back. The mansion was still asleep when she made her way downstairs,
By the time Adaline returned to the mansion, night had already draped its dark veil over the city. Ronan had instructed the driver not to take her home, leaving her no choice but to walk the long way back. Each step felt heavier than the last, her body aching from the day's ordeal, her mind replaying every humiliating moment.Onlookers glanced at her as she passed, whispers trailing behind her like shadows. She looked nothing like the young woman she once was, a mere shadow of herself now, hair disheveled, face drawn and moody, eyes still wet from unshed tears.She ignored the murmurs, the pointed stares, and even the tentative looks of the maids inside the mansion. Each step brought her closer to her room, her sanctuary, the one place she could shut out the world for a little while. Without hesitation, she went straight to her room, closing the door behind her, the muffled sounds of the house fading into silence.In the dim glow of her room, Adaline sank onto the edge of the bed, the
Chapter 16Adaline moved quietly around the kitchen, tidying up the mess of breakfast dishes. Her hands were numb with routine, but her mind was heavy. Camilla had been relentless that morning, every sip of tea criticized, every slice of toast deemed unsatisfactory. It felt personal, as if the woman derived pleasure from her suffering.A soft knock at the door drew her attention. Mrs. Margareta stepped in, her expression calm but tinged with concern."Adaline... Ronan needs you at the company," she said gently. "I'll likely be gone by the time you return."Adaline paused, her heart tightening. "I... I'll miss you," she whispered, before stepping forward and hugging Mrs. Margareta.The older woman looked surprised, but her arms wrapped around Adaline in return. "Be careful of Camilla," she murmured, releasing her gently.Adaline nodded, trying to steady herself, and left the kitchen, her footsteps quiet on the polished floor. The car was waiting outside, and as she climbed in, a flutte







