The house moved like a machine wound too tightly—maids polishing every reflective surface, florists weaving midnight roses with white lilies into decadent arrangements, chefs barking orders in French and Italian. And above them all, Roman watched.
He stood at the highest window, arms crossed, eyes drawn not to the chaos of the preparations but to the single locked door that separated him from everything he ever wanted.
Serene had not spoken since he carried her upstairs with his own hands, placing her in a room dressed in soft gold and navy. The new cage was dressed like royalty—velvet cushions, silk sheets, a vanity fit for a queen. But a cage was still a cage, even if it sparkled.
Roman had chosen the dress himself. Crimson silk that kissed the floor and wrapped tightly around the waist. When the maids brought it to her, Serene didn't even look at it. Her eyes had been hollow since the day he ripped her from the classroom.
She sat by the window, legs tucked beneath her, head resting on the cold glass. From that height, she could see the gardens being lit by chandeliers hoisted on iron trees. It was almost too beautiful to be real. But nothing about her life had been real for weeks now.
Lelo stormed into the room unannounced, small fists clenched, her face puffy with frustration.
"She hasn't even tried it on!" the child snapped, waving at the dress. "Tomorrow is important. You can't ruin it just because you're… being difficult."
Serene didn't answer.
Lelo walked closer. "You're not going to cry in front of the guests, are you? Daddy says tears ruin the atmosphere."
Still no answer. That silence sent Lelo into a storm. She stomped her foot, then turned to the nearest maid.
"She's not eating either. You said she had breakfast. You lied. I'm telling Daddy."
When Lelo stormed out, Roman was already waiting in the hallway.
"She's doing it on purpose," Lelo accused.
Roman crouched down to her level, smoothing her hair back.
"She's adjusting," he said. "Tomorrow, everything changes."
Lelo's brow furrowed. "Promise?"
"I always keep my promises, little one."
Inside, Serene watched them through the crack in the door.
---
That night, Roman entered her room again. He sat on the edge of her bed but did not touch her. He didn't need to. His presence was touch enough.
"I bought this house for you," he said. "Long before you even knew I existed."
Serene didn't reply, didn't move.
"I imagined our life here. You wearing that red dress, smiling as guests toasted us. You laughing while Lelo danced around the piano."
His voice softened. "I waited for you. For years. And now… you've given me nothing but silence."
Still nothing.
Roman stood. "Tomorrow, you'll wear the dress. You'll smile. You'll speak. Or I'll turn this party into your funeral."
He left the room as calmly as he had entered, the scent of his cologne lingering like a threat.
Serene waited until the door clicked shut. Then she finally moved—sliding down the wall until her knees hit the floor, pressing her fists to her mouth so no one could hear her scream.
Outside, the moon hung low, heavy and indifferent.
Tomorrow, the performance would begin.