The Bellarie Group headquarters doesn't just occupy space; it is aesthetically pleasing, the air is pressurized, smelling of high-end filtration and the sharp, ozone scent of high-speed servers. It is a place where human emotions are secondary to market shares, and empathy is a fireable offense.
As Telvin walks through the lobby, the atmospheric pressure seems to drop. The rhythmic click-clack of a hundred keyboards falters. Conversations die mid-sentence. Six bodyguards in razor-sharp suits trail him in a V-formation, their footfalls perfectly synchronized with his. They don't just follow him; they shield him.
"Good morning, Mr. Bellarie," a young executive whispers, stepping aside with a bowed head.
Telvin doesn't acknowledge him. He doesn't acknowledge anyone. He moves with a silence that demands total submission. Inside his private office on the 80th floor, a sanctuary of cold marble and long shadows, he finds Elena waiting.
She is draped over a velvet chair like a predatory cat, her platinum hair shimmering under the lighting. She doesn't just work here; she wants to be in his space, a woman who has navigated the boardrooms by his side for years.
"You're late," Elena says, her voice sharp as a glass piece. She stands up, her silk dress rustling as she walks toward him. "Why is she still at yours, Telvin? You don't bring 'assets' home. It's insane, It's unprofessional."
Telvin stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city he owns. "She is … No matter of fact, I keep her there, for one reason, Elena," he says, his voice flat. "To settle the debt her father owed mine. Nothing more." Telvin says.
Is that what you tell yourself? his internal voice mocks him. That she's just a line in a ledger ? You can still feel the salt on your skin from when you pulled her out of the deep. You can still feel the way her heart hammered against your chest.
Elena searches his face, her fingers trailing over his arm. "I really hope so," she whispers, her voice laced with a possessive edge. "Because she seems like a distraction. And distractions take people out in this business." She leaves.
***
JATAVIA'S POV
The next morning of the burial feels like my world is falling apart.
Telvin leads me to a private cemetery on the edge of the estate. His entourage stands at a distance, a circle of dark suits and mirrored sunglasses, but Telvin stands right beside me. He is a pillar of charcoal wool, silent and unmoving.
The casket is simple but elegant. Too elegant for the woman who spent her last months in a moldy room praying for a miracle.
"Go … Goo … Goodbye, Mum," I whisper, the words refusing to come out, as I pinch my fingers so tight. My tears are flowing like a river. My heart is burning severely, that I can feel every fire in it.
I feel the weight of the locket in my hand. Why did you give this to me? I wonder. What were you trying to say with your last breath? I feel so alone. My world feels empty. I just want her to take me with her. How dare she leave me alone ? I can taste every tear that drops into my mouth, and this tear is not of salt anymore but bitterness.
Beside me, I see Telvin's hand clench into a white-knuckled fist at his side. He looks ahead, his jaw tight, his expression a mask of stone. But I can feel it, the vibration of something like pain coming from him. He's watching me crumble, and for a split second, I see his eyes soften before he catches himself. He wants to reach out; I can feel it. But he stays frozen, the "tough" CEO refusing to show a single pain. The fact that he let me see her for the last time, shocks me.
Chapter 3: THE SHADOW & THE SNAKE (PART 2)
I look as the first shovel of dirt hits the lid of the casket. Where would I go, Telvin? There is no world left for me outside of your shadow. I look at him. He stands like a statue of salt and stone, his jaw tight. I see his fist clench at his side, a white-knuckled tremor that betrays him. He feels for me but refuses to show, yet he maintains the mask of a heartless creditor. I feel a hollow pity for both of us, he, the hunter who cannot stop, and I, the prey who has nowhere left to run.
Back at the mansion, the "Gilded Cage" truly reveals itself. Four women in grey uniforms file into my room with the precision of a military unit.
"I am Mrs. Halloway," the eldest says, her voice a practiced, calm silk. "Mr. Bellarie has instructed us to attend to you as the future matriarch of this estate. From this moment on, you will not lift a finger."
They wash me with rose-infused water and dress me in a gown made of silk so heavy and expensive it feels like a golden shackle. They attended to me, like I am their queen and they worship me, brushing my hair until it shines like a raven's wing.
Future matriarch? I think, staring at my reflection. They dress me like a queen, but they lock the doors like I'm a criminal. I feel a flicker of phantom cold from the ocean, a reminder that even in this warmth, I am still drowning in his world.
I manage to escape the staff an hour later, retreating to the glass-walled sunroom. I need air that doesn't smell like expensive soap. I am standing by the grand piano, my fingers hovering over the keys I haven't touched in six years, when a voice drifts from the shadows.
"He used to have it tuned every week, you know. Even when no one was here to play it."
I turn around, my heart leaping into my throat. A man is leaning against the door frame . He is younger than Telvin, with the same striking Bellarie bone structure, but his eyes are a warm, honeyed brown, lacking the coldness of his cousin's gaze.
"I'm Marcus," he says, stepping into the light. "Telvin's cousin. I was at the cemetery, Jatavia. At the back. I'm truly sorry about your mother. Telvin... he doesn't know how to handle grief. He only knows how to handle debts."
"Why am I here, Marcus?" I whisper, my voice trembling. "Why won't he let me go?"
Marcus reaches out, a tentative, careful gesture. He gently tucks a stray, dark curl behind my ear. His touch is the first spark of genuine human warmth I've felt in days, and I almost sob. Is this a trap? I wonder, searching his eyes, how is he warm, when he is a Bellarie ? . Or is he the only person in this house who sees me as a human being?
"My cousin has been looking for his 'Dazzling Star' for six years," Marcus murmurs softly. "And now that he's found you, he might not let you go easily." He thinks he is keeping you safe.
"Safe? Or just a pretty prisoner?"
Elena strides in, her eyes instantly locking onto Marcus's hand near my face. Her expression shifts from fake playfulness to a cold, jagged jealousy in a heartbeat. She looks at me with disgust, her gaze lingering on the expensive silk dress Telvin has bought for me.
"The help tells me you're already making yourself at home, Jatavia," Elena spats, her voice dripping with poison. "Don't get comfortable. Telvin's charity is short-lived."
I don't fire back. I simply look at her, wondering why she carries so much hate. When she sweeps out, Marcus sighs. "That's Elena," he explains. "She's worked with Telvin for years. She has had eyes for him forever, and she sees you as the only thing standing in her way."
In the study later that evening, the air is thick with the scent of bourbon and unspoken accusations. Elena finds Telvin pouring a drink. She walks up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She takes a glass, pours herself a drink, raises it, Clink. Clink. The glass sings, as they cheer.
"I don't fancy her, Telvin," Elena murmurs against his back. "I see the way she looks at you. Like you're a monster. Send her away, anywhere but here."
Telvin firmly removes her hands. "Stop, Elena. She cannot leave. I told you, she is here to pay for her father's debt."
"Why are you acting like this lately ?" Elena's voice rises with hurt. "Is it because of her? She uses her finger to hold the bottom of the glass while stirring the drink, then sips.
"Go home, Elena." Telvin begs softly, his voice weary.
"Huh ?" Elena gets up drops the glass of drink and leaves angrily
Once the front door slams behind her, Telvin doesn't go to his own room. He stands in the hallway, the image of Marcus touching Jatavia's hair burning in his mind. He folds his fist tight. Telvin's eyes lit with fire in them, his heart pounding like it never did before. Ba dum ! Ba dum ! Ba dum !
I retire to my room, as I lay to rest. The click of the lock is the loudest sound I've ever heard. I pull the duvet to my chest, my breath hitching as Telvin steps into the dark room. He stands in the doorway, the moonlight catching the hard planes of his face.
"You think you can find comfort in Marcus?" he whispers, his voice so sharp. "You think anyone in this house can touch you without my permission?"
The want in his eyes is wild, a madness that makes my heart pound. I realize then that the "human uncertainty" between us isn't just fear, it's a connection so volatile it threatens to burn the whole house down. He walks towards me, all I can hear is the thumping of my heart beat. Telvin takes my hands, grabs me closer, my legs trembling.