The silence after the blood cleanse was unnerving.
Serene lay motionless in the center of their shared room, hooked up to a quiet hum of machines. Her skin looked almost translucent under the golden glow of the chandelier, her lips cracked, her eyes open — but lifeless.
Roman sat nearby, elbows on his knees, still watching her the way one watches a painting that refuses to speak. He'd done it. He'd flushed the poison out of her body — every pill, every trace, every attempt to prevent what he was owed.
But still… nothing.
It had been days since the cleansing, and Serene had said almost nothing. She ate when forced. She slept in stillness. She flinched at every shadow that passed her doorway.
Roman hated it.
He hated the way her eyes no longer sparked — not with hate, not with defiance, not even with fear. It was like someone had turned her inside out and left only a shell behind.
Worse than her silence was his own frustration. Every test his private doctors ran said the same thing: Serene was now the perfect vessel. Hormones balanced. Body ripe. But still… no change.
She wouldn't conceive.
Something deeper was at play.
"She's not resisting," Roman muttered to the doctor who came to check her again. "She's… empty. Like she's already gone somewhere else."
The man hesitated. Then gave a soft sigh, as though stepping over an invisible line.
"It's her emotional state," he said. "Extreme mental stress can prevent implantation. Depression does that, especially in women."
Roman turned his head slowly. "Depression?"
"She's under constant duress. And the body knows that. It won't accept life in conditions it deems dangerous."
Roman went very still.
All his efforts. All his control. The house, the guards, the purity, the nights he carved his obsession into her skin — and yet it was her sadness that stood in his way.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, suddenly cold.
"What do I do?" he asked, voice flat. "Drug her? Bribe her? Threaten her?"
The doctor licked his lips nervously. "There… is another method. But it's controversial."
Roman's eyes narrowed.
"We've used it for trauma patients," the man continued. "Selective memory therapy. Induced forgetfulness. Think of it like wiping a chalkboard. She wouldn't remember the trauma. She'd wake up believing whatever memory you choose to leave behind."
Roman stood.
"You can erase her pain."
"I can… redirect it. With your help."
He looked toward the bed. Serene still hadn't moved. Her breath was shallow. Her wrists still bore healing burns from where the straps had rubbed raw.
Roman walked to her slowly, crouching beside her.
She didn't flinch this time. Didn't turn away.
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, brushing the healing bruises on her cheek with his thumb.
"You hear that, little one?" he whispered. "You're hurting so much, you can't even give me what I want. But I'll fix that."
He kissed her forehead, soft and chilling. "You don't need all those memories. The world was too cruel. Your past too heavy. I'll take it from you. Replace it with something better."
He looked back at the doctor.
"Do it."
—
The procedure was subtle at first.
She was sedated. Hooked to a different set of wires. A neural stimulator designed to trigger certain responses. Roman was instructed to speak while it happened — to feed her the life he wanted her to wake up into.
So he did.
He stood at her bedside every night for seven nights. And every night, he whispered the same words:
"You love me."
"You're safe here."
"I saved you."
"You're my wife. My angel. You chose me."
"There is no pain here. No past. Only love."
"You've never known anything else."
Over and over.
Like a spell.
Like a prayer.
Until finally, one morning, Serene opened her eyes. And smiled.
—
She no longer flinched when he kissed her.
She let him hold her hand at breakfast.
She laughed softly when Lelo hugged her waist and called her "mama."
She began to walk the halls again, humming under her breath, unaware of the cage she moved in.
And Roman watched her, heart beating like thunder.
Because for the first time, he didn't have to force her.
She kissed him willingly.
She curled into his chest at night.
She asked when they could have a baby.
And he knew.
She was his now.
Completely.
And yet… deep beneath that surface, in the farthest corners of Serene's mind, something still stirred.
Something not quite gone.
A crack in the glass.
Waiting.
----