The morning arrived like a slap across Serene's face.
There was no sunrise to welcome her—only the oppressive gray sky draped over the mansion like a burial shroud. Her head pounded. Her body ached. But Roman was gone when she woke up, and that was mercy enough for now.
She sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring at the deep red indentations his fingers had left on her thighs. A thousand thoughts tried to claw their way to the surface, but her mind was a fog of shame, fury, and exhaustion. Her eyes drifted to the door. Still locked.
But her ears caught movement downstairs.
Voices. Raised.
Roman.
And others.
Serene pulled on a thick robe and crept to the hallway, pressing her ear to the doorframe.
"How dare you lie to the media about a fairytale marriage," a sharp woman's voice rang out.
"You always knew we would be watching," came the deep tone of an older man—stern, accusing.
"She doesn't even want your children," the woman spat. "So why, Roman? Why marry something so—unwilling? So unworthy?"
Serene couldn't see them, but she didn't have to. Roman's parents had the kind of voices that painted themselves into the air. High, bitter. Entitled. They were the kind of people who smiled for cameras and hissed behind closed doors.
Roman didn't respond immediately. She imagined him in the foyer, standing tall in his black suit, the morning sun slicing through the windows and casting sharp shadows across his jaw.
"She's mine," he said finally. "And she'll give me what I want. In time."
"Don't be naive," his mother sneered. "You're not a boy playing house. You're a Vale."
There was silence. A pause too deliberate.
Then Roman's voice returned, colder this time. "She's not the problem. Her body is. It must still be full of those pills."
Serene's blood turned to ice.
"You promised an heir," the man said. "That was the deal. You can play with your toys all you want, but don't forget your duty."
Footsteps. Fast, angry.
Serene flinched away from the door just before the knob twisted. Roman entered, alone.
His eyes locked onto hers like a sniper's scope. He didn't blink. He didn't smile.
She backed up until her legs hit the bed.
"Take your robe off," he said.
"Roman, please—"
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" he snapped, stepping forward.
She shook her head violently, stumbling back as he advanced.
He caught her by the wrists, dragging her forward.
"You think your tiny tricks can stop me? You think a few pills can kill what belongs to me?"
She bit her lip to keep from sobbing, tasting iron.
Roman shoved her onto the bed and pinned her down with the weight of his body.
"I gave you freedom," he said. "I gave you safety. And this is how you repay me?"
"You never gave me anything," she whispered.
His hand closed around her throat, not tight, but firm.
"I gave you myself," he whispered back. "And now, I'll take what's mine."
The door behind him remained open. Footsteps moved again downstairs. Lelo's voice rang out, calling for her mother, but Roman didn't move.
He buried his face into her neck.
Serene went still, eyes wide.
Her soul was screaming, but her body obeyed. Because she knew. She always knew.
The cage had gotten smaller.
And she was running out of air.
Let me know when you want to continue with Chapter 65 — whether we return to Lelo's perspective or keep deepening Serene's entrapment. This n
ext stretch could really pull readers even deeper into the psychological descent.