The last guest had barely left when the silence returned — a heavy, suffocating kind that settled over the mansion like a shroud. The chandeliers still glimmered with fading light. Half-empty wine glasses clinked on forgotten trays. The scent of roses lingered, sharp and cloying.
Serene stood at the top of the staircase, frozen in her evening gown. She had watched them all leave — her parents, her sisters, even childhood friends — smiling, waving, kissing cheeks, saying goodbye to his perfect life. Not hers. Never hers.
They hadn't looked back.
Not even once.
She wanted to cry. Scream. Run.
But her legs didn't move.
Somewhere behind her, footsteps echoed. Slow. Unhurried. Each one like a countdown.
"Beautiful," Roman said behind her, his voice low and thick with something too dark to name. "That's what they all said tonight. Over and over."
Serene didn't speak. Her fingers gripped the railing until her knuckles whitened.
"They said I'm lucky. That I chose well. That I finally found the woman who completes me." He was closer now. She could feel the warmth of him like fire licking up her spine. "They don't know how right they are."
He brushed her hair off her shoulder.
She flinched.
He didn't pull away.
"I didn't like the way that boy looked at you. The one who handed you your purse. Idris' replacement, I assume?" His breath was at her ear now. "Don't look at anyone else again, Serene. You belong to me. You breathe because I allow it. You smile because I made you mine."
She stepped forward. He grabbed her wrist.
"You're trembling," he whispered. "Why?"
"I'm tired," she said flatly. "Let go."
"Not yet." He pulled her back, slowly, until her spine pressed into his chest. "Tonight isn't about tired. It's about truth. You smiled for the cameras. Played the part. Now you'll play mine."
His hand slipped down her side, possessive. Slow. Not gentle.
"You think I didn't notice the way you looked at your family?" he whispered. "As if they could save you. As if I'd ever let you leave. You belong in my bed, Serene. You belong in my house. You belong in my world."
She swallowed. Her voice came out thin. "You said you'd wait."
"I lied."
He turned her around and lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. She didn't fight him. What would be the point?
The hallway stretched like a tunnel. The shadows whispered.
Behind every door in this house was a lock. A chain. A cage.
But Roman didn't need them anymore.
Not tonight.
Tonight, she wasn't going to run.
She couldn't.
Because monsters don't chase their prey forever. Eventually, they just close their teeth.
And she'd already stepped into his mouth.
--