Captian leaned closer to my ear: "Tony Baileys abandoned you in the countryside for over a decade. You call that a home?"
I clenched my teeth, forcing out a faint smile. So, he knew. He knew about my past, my childhood. Well, that's just my luck. No matter what, I'm the one who has to swallow the bitterness for Rose's sake.
"Family is family… after all."
He glanced sideways: "Want me to come with you?"
"No!" I blurted out, but when I caught the raise of Captian's eyebrow, it was as if I inhaled Death's breath and quickly corrected myself. "I mean… it's family business, I should go alone. You must be busy anyway…"
Captian lounged lazily: "Go then. But come back. Don't make me go looking for you, I hate playing hide-and-seek with the living, 'cause the loser always ends up as a corpse."
Of course, I understood his meaning.
As soon as he finished speaking, Captian bent down and effortlessly lifted me off his lap like I weighed no more than a pillow, placing me onto the chair beside him. The motion was gentle, yet cold like he was handling an object, not a living, breathing human. Before I could react, he stood up and turned away with that familiar, indifferent air.
When his hand reached the doorknob, he suddenly paused, his voice low but commanding enough to allow no resistance:
"Finish all of it. Not a crumb left. Only then can you return to your room."
He shot a glance at the two guards by the door: "Hunter, Ronan. Watch her. If she doesn't eat, don't let her rest easy."
The door shut with a heavy thud, severing all escape routes.
Ronan immediately frowned, muttering, "Ridiculous… his right-hand man reduced to babysitting someone's meal…"
Then he spun around, scowling: "And you, sit down and eat. Don't make me spoon-feed you. Waste a bite, and you'll be eating lead through your skull."
He pulled out his gun, cocking it with a click, the gesture implied he'd shoot me for leaving food uneaten.
"If you scare her, she'll throw up, not eat," Hunter intervened. Ronan rolled his eyes but holstered his gun.
"Eat. Now."
I sat down, forcing the food into my mouth, chewing, but every swallow felt stuck in my throat. The sweet buttery flavor that should've been pleasant now only made me nauseous. Whether it was the hunger or the lingering image of that "corpse" dangling in the gallery, the haunting vision clung to my mind like an unwelcome shadow.
I blurted out, struggling to sound normal but unable to hide my wariness:
"That… basement room… hanging a corpse like that… what if it starts rotting? How do you guys… preserve it?"
Hunter froze mid-pour. Ronan, munching on his ration bar, suddenly choked, coughing violently.
"Corpse?" He hesitated, eyes darting around. "You mean… the guy hanging in the display room?"
I nodded, my heart tightening, unwilling to relive the memory.
Ronan stared, then burst into laughter, shaking his head like someone spooked by a harmless prank:
"Heavens! That's a dummy! For tactical training. That room's been empty for ages. The guys set it up for laughs, but maybe they overdid it…"
"Ronan." Hunter tilted his head, warning.
"She saw it anyway," Ronan shrugged, clearly unfazed.
A dummy. Just a training dummy.
I laughed a dry, hollow laugh without sound. The emotion slipped from my throat like shards of shattered pride.
So, there was no corpse. No murder. Just me, a fool, trembling over an illusion carefully crafted to convince me that one wrong move would leave me dangling there next.
And he knew. Captian Anderson knew I'd be scared. He knew silence would disorient me. He knew vague fear bound tighter than chains.
I hugged my arms, not from the cold, but from the shame seeping into my flesh. I had been afraid. I had cried. I had lost sleep. I thought I was imprisoned with a corpse.
And yet… it was all a joke. A play. A twisted psychological test, while he watched from the sidelines like an audience observing a panicked lab rat in a maze.
I was angry. But also relieved. Suddenly, Captian didn't seem that terrifying. But he knew how to manipulate using primal human fears to bind or even destroy someone.
To him, my fear was merely a tool just another piece in his distorted psychological game, where I never get to set the rules.
…
The next morning.
Captian didn't show up again. Instead, Ronan was the one escorting me home.
Outside, by the driveway, Ronan leaned against a sports car. As I stepped out, he smirked mockingly:
"Off to see dear old Mom and Dad excited, aren't you, Rosy?"
I slid into the car, ignoring his sneer. "Yeah, thrilled. Can't wait to hug and kiss them."
Ronan whistled like some street thug. "Must feel amazing hugging the people who abandoned you. I admire you — never had that feeling myself."
I ignored him. Gazing out the window, the streets passed by, but my mind spun with one thought: I half wanted to see my father, half didn't. I wanted to confront him about what he did to me, but I also dreaded facing the blood relative who hurt me so deeply.
I could've chosen not to return to that forsaken place, but I still went… because outside, I might get the chance to run.
If Ronan got careless, I could escape. That fleeting thought sparked a faint hope amidst my lingering anxiety.
The car stopped in front of my father's mansion. I glanced at Ronan through the rearview mirror — he watched me intently, as if reading every thought racing through my mind.
"We're here," he announced, killing the engine.
I jolted, eyes darting to the familiar scene. Though I'd been here before, it still felt alien. Escape never seemed so close yet so far.
"Thinking about running?" Ronan's voice was calm, laced with warning.
I stiffened. I didn't expect him to see through me so easily. Forcing a smile, I replied lightly, "Of course not. I still want to live a few more decades."
Ronan raised an eyebrow, fingers casually brushing his belt where I knew his gun rested.
"My gun's accurate within eight hundred meters. Your eyes not sure how far they can see. But if your feet cross that gate? You won't make it ten steps before someone's outlining your corpse in chalk."
"I value my life, thanks."
Inwardly, I cursed Captian's people sucked blood worse than mosquitoes.
I stepped out, my shoes clacking against the stone pavement, cold and hollow. Though it wasn't hot, sweat beaded on my brow. In my hands was a meticulously wrapped gift box a prop for playing the "dutiful daughter," and the only thing preventing my hands from feeling empty.
Ronan didn't follow, simply leaning against the car, waving dismissively: "You're on your own. I don't like your family."
I inhaled deeply, then walked forward. Each step light, yet every echo pounding in my chest. No one came to open the door. I didn't knock. The heavy door stood unchanged since the day I left, opening to a world I never thought I'd return to like this.
I pushed it open.
The living room lights were on. Lauren sprawled on the sofa, laughing hysterically at some trashy comedy on TV. Her carefree face made my skin crawl. But the moment she turned and saw me, her smile froze like someone hit pause.
Her body stiffened. Her eyes widened, staring like she'd seen a ghost. Then her gaze darted to the gift box in my hands, scanning my Chanel dress scrutinizing every inch like airport security, disbelief etched on her face that I was alive whole and standing here.
Lauren shot to her feet, clearly flustered, forcing a crooked smile.
"R-Rosy… y-you… why are you back so suddenly?" She stammered, glancing nervously toward the door like expecting someone behind me.
I silently stepped inside, setting the gifts on the coffee table. The room fell into eerie quiet.
Lauren peeked at the door once more before cautiously asking, "Captian… didn't come with you?"
"No. He's busy. Sent me home alone."
Only then did she exhale, quickly switching to her usual fake warmth:
"You surprised us! Next time, call ahead so we can prepare a nice meal…"
I didn't care. My eyes swept the room, my father was nowhere to be seen. Everything was exactly as I left it, except now, I wasn't the clueless girl from before.
My voice was soft, but firm:
"Where's my father?"
Lauren flinched, forcing a brittle smile:
"Upstairs… I'll call him…"
She craned her neck, shouting theatrically toward the stairs:
"Honey! Rosy's home! Come down!"
Silence.
No footsteps. No doors creaking. Only the TV's background chatter taunting us.
I pressed my lips together, eyes cool as I stared upstairs:
"Don't bother."
The air stilled.
Lauren fell silent. I clenched my hands, suppressing the sting in my eyes.
"Ah, stay for lunch with your father, your sister, and me…"
I ignored her, withdrawing from her unwelcome touch, my voice flat: "Afraid your food comes with another kidnapping."
Her smile faltered for a second, then she forced it back, syrupy as ever:
"Don't be ridiculous…"
I stared, unblinking — beneath her makeup was a face devoid of shame.
"That's reassuring," I muttered with a cold smile.
Her eyes flicked to the gifts like she couldn't resist anymore: "Wow, these are lovely. Captian bought them, right? Such a doting husband…"
I bit my lip, smiling faintly: "Thank you, if it weren't for your little scam, I wouldn't be this lucky."
Lauren choked, then masked it with false arrogance:
"You should be grateful. A poor countryside girl without your father and me bringing you back, would you ever enter the Andersons' world?"
I nodded, voice sharp: "So you admit drugging me?"
Lauren rolled her eyes, smirking, her act discarded: "Would you have gotten in the car otherwise? Complaining now? You're living like a queen."
My fists clenched. Faint scars on my wrists still whispered of those "wedding night" shackles.
I inhaled, steadying myself:
"And Rose? Your precious daughter?"
The moment I said her name, Lauren's face lit up like drought meeting rain no attempt to hide her pride.
"She's going abroad soon full scholarship. Her lifelong dream finally real."
Those words hit me like a slap. I grabbed her sleeve before I could think.
My voice was low, but every word burned:
"So her life's worth living, mine's disposable? Should I return the favor? Let me guess drugged me, tricked me back, handed me to Captian so your daughter could chase her dream?"
Lauren didn't hesitate:
"Of course. Rose is brilliant, destined for greatness. I had to protect her. You think I'd let her be locked in that wolf's den?"
Her words were acid pouring over my heart.
My fists trembled, anger coiled tight, but Lauren kept rambling:
"Your father's company is broke. Only Captian could help but he wanted a Baileys girl. You think I'd send Rose? Naturally…"
"… you remembered the illegitimate daughter left to rot in the countryside," I finished, my voice shaking.
Lauren's smile deepened, eyes gleaming:
"You should be grateful."