Adeline did not see Rory again.Not in person.Not in a message.Not even in her dreams.Instead, she saw consequences.It began subtly.The garden walks stopped.The guards stood closer.Doors that once opened without sound now required permission.The gilded cage tightened.She noticed it first in the silence—how it grew heavier, how even the birds seemed to avoid the estate. By the third day, the air itself felt watchful.Ethan was the one who confirmed what she already knew."You're restricted," he said, standing by the door one morning.Her chest tightened. "For how long?"Ethan didn't meet her eyes. "Until the Don is satisfied.""With what?" she asked."With your understanding."Anger flared. "Understanding of what? That he owns me?"Ethan's jaw clenched. "Lower your voice."She laughed bitterly. "Why? Afraid someone will hear the truth?"Ethan stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Afraid he already has."The room felt smaller."Where is she?" Adeline asked quietly.Ethan hesitated again—that dangerous pause. "Alive."Relief and dread tangled painfully in her chest. "That's not an answer.""It's the only one I'm allowed to give."Adeline sank onto the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets. "He said he wouldn't hurt her.""And he hasn't," Ethan replied. "Not directly."Her breath caught. "What does that mean?"Ethan straightened, composure snapping back into place. "It means your friend's life is about to become very small."The words sliced deeper than a blade.She thought of Rory loosing all she had and she felt devastated —Donovan came that night.No warning. No ceremony.He found Adeline sitting by the window, staring out at a world she could see but never reach."You're angry," he observed.She didn't turn to face him. "You said you wouldn't touch her.""I didn't.""You're destroying her life.""Yes."She spun toward him then, fury blazing. "You're proving a point at her expense."Donovan met her anger calmly. "No. I'm protecting what's mine.""I'm not yours!" she raised her voiceThe words echoed.Donovan stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between them."You are," he said quietly. "Because I chose to keep you."Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "You're a monster."He tilted his head slightly. "And yet you're still here."The implication cut deep."You could leave," Donovan continued. "If you truly wished to."Her voice broke. "You know that's a lie.""Is it?" he challenged. "The gate isn't locked."Hope flared dangerously."You could walk out," he said. "Tonight."Her heart pounded. "And Rory?"A pause.Just one."That," Donovan said softly, "is the price of attachment."Understanding crashed over her like cold water.If she left, Rory would pay.If she stayed, Rory might live.Adeline's knees gave way as the truth settled in.Donovan watched her, eyes dark but unreadable."This is the moment," he said. "Where choice becomes loyalty."She looked up at him, shattered. "You're not giving me a choice.""Yes," he replied calmly. "I am."Because she could still walk away.She just wouldn't survive the guilt.Donovan turned and left her there, broken on the floor, the decision echoing in the silence.And Adeline understood, with aching clarity, that love—real or imagined—had just become her deepest prison.
