Chapter eleven

Elara pov

I don’t sleep.

I lie on my bed fully dressed, staring at the ceiling while the house breathes around me. The walls tick softly, like they’re counting something down. Every sound feels deliberate. Every silence feels watched.

Alicia’s voice still lingers in my head.

Purpose ends.

I press my palm flat against my stomach without thinking, then pull it away quickly, as if even the thought is dangerous.

I’m not carrying anything yet.

But everyone is already acting like I am.

A knock comes at my door.

Sharp.

My body reacts before my mind does. I sit up, heart kicking hard against my ribs.

“Yes?” I managed to stand up .

“Come,” Dante’s voice says from the other side.

Not come here.

Just come.

I stand, smoothing my clothes with shaking hands, and open the door.

He’s there, tall and solid, filling the hallway with his presence. The lights catch the sharp lines of his face. He looks composed. Awake. Dangerous in that quiet way.

“Walk with me,” he says.

I step out without question.

We move through the mansion side by side. The guards keep their distance. No one speaks. The silence stretches tight between us.

“You spoke to Alicia,” he says casually.

“Yes, sir.”

“What did she say?”

I hesitate. Just a fraction.

“She told me to remember my place.”

He stops walking.

So do I.

“That wasn’t her role,” he says calmly.

“I didn’t argue,” I replied.

His gaze drops to me. Not soft. Assessing.

“Good,” he says. “Arguing would’ve been a mistake.”

We resumed walking.

My pulse doesn’t slow.

We reach the sitting room. He gestures for me to sit. I lower myself onto the edge of the couch, posture careful, contained.

“You understand why today mattered,” he says.

“Yes.”

“Explain it.”

My throat tightens. “Because now there’s proof,” I say slowly. “That I can… do what you need.”

He watches me closely.

“And how do you feel about that?”

The question throws me off balance.

“I feel,” I choose my words carefully, “that it doesn’t change anything.”

Something unreadable flashes across his face.

“That’s correct,” he says. “It doesn’t.”

Relief and dread collide inside me.

“You will follow instructions exactly,” he continued. “Doctors. Staff. Me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You will not form attachments.”

I nod.

“You will not make assumptions about your importance here.”

My fingers curl into my palms. “I won’t.”

He steps closer.

“Good,” he says quietly. “Because people who misunderstand their values tend to suffer.”

I swallow.

“Yes, sir.”

A phone vibrates.

He glances at the screen, jaw tightening slightly.

“You may go,” he says.

I stand quickly, bow my head, and leave.

I don’t run.

But the moment my door closes behind me, my knees weaken.

I slide down slowly, back against the wood, breathing shallow and controlled.

I tell myself not to cry.

Crying changes nothing.

Later, voices drift through the walls. Low. Male. Urgent. I catch fragments.

“pressure”

“too soon”

“keep her contained”

The word sinks deep.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Unknown number.

My breath catches.

I stare at the screen for a long moment before answering.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then breathing.

Slow.

Measured.

“You shouldn’t trust her,” a voice says quietly.

My pulse spikes. “Who is this?”

The voice continues. “She’s already decided how this ends.”

My fingers tremble. “You’re lying.”

A soft chuckle. “I’m warning you.”

The line goes dead.

I sit frozen, phone still pressed to my ear.

A knock sounds at my door almost immediately.

Hard.

Deliberate.

I jump to my feet.

“Yes?”

“Open,” Dante says.

I do.

He steps inside, eyes sharp, scanning my face.

“Did you receive a call?” he asks.

My mouth opens.

I hesitate.

And in that hesitation, something shifts.

His gaze hardens.

“I asked you something,” he says.

I lower my eyes. “Yes.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

Silence stretches.

He steps closer, towering over me.

“From this moment on,” he says quietly, “you tell me everything.”

“Yes, sir.”

His phone buzzes again.

He glances at it, then back at me.

“You are not as invisible as you think,” he says.

Then he turns and leaves.

The door closes.

I stand alone in the room, heart pounding, phone heavy in my hand.

Whatever I was before

I am not that anymore.

And whatever is coming

It’s already inside the house.