All Chapters of Seducing Mr Lukers: A night to remember : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Japhet’s POVBy the time I returned, she had already been moved.Not to a dungeon. Not to some filthy, suffocating cell.No.Ana was placed in a room worthy of a queen—just not one with freedom.I stood at the entrance for a moment, my gaze sweeping across the space before settling fully inside. The room was large, elegantly furnished with expensive décor, soft lighting, and floor-to-ceiling windows draped in heavy curtains that blocked out the outside world completely. Everything about it spoke of comfort, luxury, and power.And yet, beneath all that beauty, it was nothing more than a cage.A controlled environment. A place where she could breathe, but only as much as I allowed. Two guards stood outside the door, alert and unmoving, while another pair lingered at the far end of the corridor. No one entered without my permission. No one left without it either.Especially not her.I stepped inside slowly, my presence immediately shifting the air in the room.Ana was by the window, her

Japhet’s POV“She hasn’t said a word since you left, Boss.”I didn’t respond immediately.Alex stood a few steps behind me, waiting, but I kept my eyes fixed on the screen in front of me, my fingers resting lightly against the edge of the desk.“Is she eating?” I asked after a moment, my voice calm, almost detached.A brief pause.“Yes. Enough to stay standing,” he replied. “Not enough to say she’s okay.”A faint scoff left my lips. “She doesn’t need to be okay.”Alex didn’t reply to that.Smart.Silence settled in the room again, thick but not uncomfortable, as I leaned back slightly in my chair, my gaze never leaving the monitor.The camera feed was clear. Too clear. Every movement. Every shift. Every breath.Ana sat by the window, just like she always did, her figure still, her eyes lost somewhere beyond the heavy curtains that blocked her view of the outside world. The tray of food placed beside her earlier was half-touched, the contents barely disturbed, as if she had only eaten

Ana’s POVThey think I’ve given up.I can see it in their eyes.The guards don’t say it out loud, but I notice the way they look at me when they think I’m not paying attention—confused, curious, sometimes even uneasy, like they’re trying to understand why I’m not reacting the way they expect me to.One of them dropped my food earlier, and when he bent to pick it up, he hesitated, glancing at me like he was waiting.Waiting for what?For me to snap? To shout? To remind him who I used to be?I didn’t. I just sat there.Quiet. Still. Because the truth is… there’s nothing left to say.At first, I tried. I tried to understand him.Tried to explain. Tried to reach whatever part of Japhet still remembered me, still felt something real beneath all that anger and control.But every word I spoke was either ignored, twisted, or used against me. Every question I asked led nowhere. Every emotion I showed became something he could use.And slowly… I understood something.Pain needs an audience to

Ana’s POV It started small. A headache. Dull at first, sitting quietly behind my eyes like something I could ignore if I just stayed still long enough. I thought it would pass the way everything else did—silently, without attention, without meaning. But it didn’t. By the time the second meal came, I hadn’t touched the first. Not because I didn’t want to. But because the thought of swallowing anything made my stomach turn. The room felt colder than usual, the air heavier, harder to breathe, and my body… it didn’t feel like mine anymore. Every movement dragged, every blink lingered a second too long. Still, I said nothing. Of course I didn’t. Pain had become something private now. Something I kept to myself. Because what was the point of showing it? Who here would care? I sat by the window again, like always, my fingers loosely gripping the edge of the chair as I tried to steady the slight dizziness creeping in. My vision blurred for a second, then cleared, then blurred again

Ana’s POV The silence felt different. Not the heavy, suffocating kind that pressed against my chest and made it hard to breathe. Not the kind that came with his presence—sharp, controlled, dangerous. This silence was… empty. It had been three days since I said the words. Three days since I looked him in the eyes and buried whatever was left of us. The man I loved is dead. And I’m done mourning him. I thought he would come back angrier. Colder. Crueler. I thought he would punish me for it. But he didn’t come back at all. And somehow… that felt worse. I sat by the window, knees drawn slightly to my chest, my fingers resting loosely against the fabric of the blanket draped over me. The room was warmer now. Noticeably so. The cold that used to creep into my bones at night had disappeared, replaced with a steady, controlled heat that made the space almost… comfortable. Almost. A soft knock came at the door. Not his knock. Never his knock. “Come in,” I said, my voice flat, lackin