The morning brought no warmth.
Just steel.
The kind of cold that crept into her bones and clung to her like another layer of skin. Serene sat against the wall, knees drawn to her chest, trying to convince herself she was still sane. That this—this place, this life—was not real.
But everything here felt so painfully real.
The camera in the corner blinked its quiet, mechanical light. A reminder that her cage wasn't just physical. It was performance. Someone always watching, always waiting, always recording.
She hadn't spoken since the glass shattered.
Hadn't eaten.
Hadn't blinked more than necessary.
Sleep, when it came, was jagged and cruel. Dreams weren't relief anymore — they were weapons. Little flashes of white dresses, of slow music, of her own laughter she didn't recognize.
She tried to remember her last birthday.
She couldn't.
She tried to remember what day of the week it was.
She couldn't.
She tried to remember who she was before she walked into that school and never came back.
That hurt the most.
---
The door clicked open.
It was Greta this time. Older. Harsher. Always silent.
But today, she held a tablet in her hand. That alone made Serene's chest tighten. Nothing they brought her ever meant anything good.
Greta said nothing.
She simply placed the tablet on the small table beside the untouched food tray and tapped the screen once before walking out. The door locked with its usual finality — heavy and echoing like a death sentence.
Serene stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then it began to play.
---
Music.
Soft, classical. European. A piano drifting on air.
And then a garden, white roses climbing arched gates. A slow pan to white chairs filled with people she didn't recognize. Everyone dressed perfectly. Smiling. Happy.
Then—
Her.
She blinked.
It couldn't be her.
But it was.
The girl on the screen wore a white wedding dress that shimmered in the golden light. Her hair was pinned back. She looked radiant. Calm. And standing beside her was Roman Ashborne, holding her hand, slipping a ring onto her finger with the kind of adoration she had never seen on his face before.
She laughed. On screen.
Not the laugh she remembered. This one was soft. Girlish. In love.
And in front of them, Lelo held a bouquet.
Serene's chest caved in.
This wasn't a photo. This was video.
Motion. Voice. Expression.
She watched herself say "I do." Watched Roman kiss her. Watched the guests cheer. Watched herself dance. Watched herself smile.
She dropped the tablet.
It hit the floor with a dull thud, the video still playing.
"No," she whispered.
She crawled to the corner of the room, shaking, covering her ears—but it didn't matter. The images were already seared into her brain.
That wasn't her.
That couldn't be her.
But it looked exactly like her. Moved like her. Spoke like her.
They had created a memory. A timeline. A truth.
And if they could do that...
What else had they already rewritten?
---
The door opened again.
This time, Roman stepped in.
He wore a suit, no tie. Hair slicked back. Calm. Too calm.
Behind him, two figures waited in the hallway.
Her parents.
Her mother's eyes were glassy. Her father looked angrier than she had ever seen him.
Serene shot up from the floor.
"No," she breathed. "No no no—please—don't bring them here. Please."
Roman didn't speak. He simply motioned with a hand.
Her parents stepped inside.
Her mother gasped. "My God… Serene, what happened to you?"
"I've been kidnapped!" she screamed. "They locked me up—Mama, they locked me in a cage! You have to help me—"
Her father's voice sliced through the air. "So it's true."
She paused, confused. "What's true?"
"That you're cheating on your husband."
"What—?!"
Her mother looked down at her. "You said you were in school. That you needed space. That you were married but overwhelmed. We trusted you, Serene. We defended you."
"I am not married! That wedding wasn't real! It's fake—it's all fake! They faked everything!"
"We saw the video."
"It's not real!"
Her mother shook her head. "We raised you better than this. We didn't raise a liar."
"Mama, please—I never wore that dress! I never smiled like that! I never married him! You have to believe me!"
Roman watched silently, arms crossed, as the scene unfolded. The satisfaction in his eyes was nearly imperceptible. But it was there. Deep. Cold. Cruel.
Her parents didn't stay long.
Her father muttered something about shame.
Her mother cried but didn't touch her.
And when they left, Serene dropped to her knees.
Not from pain.
Not even from fear.
But from the utter hopelessness of knowing her past was now a lie — and the people who were supposed to save her had walked away, convinced that she had betrayed them.
---
Roman leaned against the cage bars.
"You looked beautiful in that dress," he said softly.
Serene didn't move.
He crouched down, his voice a thread of silk. "All this could've been avoided if you hadn't tried to kill our children. But you can still fix it. All you have to do... is accept your place."
Serene's lips barely moved. "I don't belong here."
"You do," he whispered. "You just forgot."
And then he left.
Leaving the tablet on loop.
The fake Serene twirling in her white dress. Laughing. Smiling.
Dancing in a life that was never hers.
---