The heavy door of the study stood slightly open. My heart pounded as I slipped inside like a shadow.

From the pocket of my jeans, I pulled a tiny video recording device. I had already connected it to my phone, the only thing I needed was to plant it somewhere hidden.

My hands moved swiftly as I tucked it deep behind a row of dusty encyclopedias but not too deep to block it's camera.

I clicked it on.

A green light blinked once, then disappeared.

My gaze swept the study.

Where would they keep the Lawyer’s card?

There!, I gasped as I sighted the crystal bowl of miscellaneous papers and receipts that sat on the sideboard.

I searched through them. There it was.

A plain business card, almost hidden between two old invitations. I took a picture of the front and back and put it back carefully.

Then my eyes drifted to the Safe. Chris's safe that I had watched him open a thousand times pretending not to notice the password.

Inside, I found documents; forged psychiatric evaluations, legal papers declaring me “mentally unfit”, hospital admittance forms, already signed.

They planned to ship me off like some unwanted furniture!, My chest ached from heartbreak as I stared at the papers in horror.

I slipped a few papers into my hoodie. These were enough to blow their scheme wide open. Then I closed the safe like nothing ever happened.

I returned to my room just as Chris and Mrs. Helena returned.

The evening was alive with golden candlelight, laughter, and expensive wine.

Guests filled the grand dining room, family friends, associates, neighbors from their gated community.

I moved among them like a hostess, my pale satin dress clinging to my body, with a fake smile plastered on my face.

Chris made his rounds, arm draped loosely around my waist.

Mrs Helena floated nearby, beaming like a proud matriarch.

Madison lingered close too — wearing a tasteful, sickly-sweet smile.

As we were all seated, having dinner, I tried to cut my chicken and Landon reached across the table and deliberately knocked over a full glass of red wine into my lap.

Gasps broke out.

I froze, crimson liquid soaking through the delicate silk of my dress. The dress Susan had gifted me.

Chris jumped up, dabbing my cloth awkwardly with a napkin, murmuring fake apologies, acting like he's a loving husband.

"Oh, darling. Are you okay?"

Poor thing, she's always been... so sensitive." Mrs. Helena added, just loud enough for the nearest guests to hear.

Landon piped up, voice sweet but laced with mischief; "Maybe Mommy needs a bib! She's always spilling things or forgetting stuff!"

The table erupted in uncomfortable laughter.

My fingers curled around my fork until my knuckles turned white but my smile never slipped.

"It’s alright, sweetheart," I said softly, wiping myself off.

"Mistakes happen, don't they? Even when people think they're being clever."

My eyes flickered briefly, coldly, dangerously and only Madison caught it, and she stiffened.

"Everyone, if I could just have a moment, I want to propose a toast to my beautiful wife", Chris said loudly, smiling.

"Selina has been… patient. Even when she forgets what day it is".

I watched as laughter rippled across the room.

Mrs. Helena leaned in from her seat beside me, smiling sweetly for the guests.

"Darling, do you remember when you almost missed this dinner because you thought it was Wednesday today?"

Guests continued exchanging amused glances.

I knew whispers about my supposed “mental struggles” were already floating just beneath the surface.

Across from me, Madison rubbed my hands sweetly.

"Ignore them, babe. They're just teasing."

But her eyes gleamed with satisfaction, hidden under mascara and lies. I nodded faintly, numb inside.

Towards the end of the dinner. I moved through the bustling house, smiling, thanking guests, pretending to be the beloved wife at my own anniversary dinner.

Inside, my mind was panicking.

Suddenly my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out casually, pretending to check a harmless text, my heart pounding.

It was the video recorder app.

Playing.

Soft at first. A scrape of movement. A wet messy sound. I tilted the phone closer to my ear as I edged into a quiet hallway.

Then the voices hit me like knives:

Madison giggling breathlessly

"God, you taste so good when you're evil."

Chris half moaning,

"Tomorrow morning, it'll be over. Doctor's coming at eight. We'll tell him she started hallucinating tonight. Easy as pie."

Madison was laughing , "She won’t even remember half of it baby."

"I drugged her tonight."

"That glass I handed to her?, I had it laced with Scopolamine. She's gonna be drooling like a lunatic soon. In a few hours, she will be totally acting out of character, confused and disoriented".

"By morning, they'll lock her away for good, before she even realizes".

My stomach dropped to my knees.

My fingers tightened painfully on the phone. I had used that glass and gulped down all the wine I poured into it without thinking.

I started breathing heavily and fast. My fingers were shaking in fear. I needed to get out of here. Not later in the night but right now!.

As I made my way out of the hallway, I bumped into Mrs. Helena.

"I have been looking for you, Selina. The last guests are about to leave, come say goodbye", she said gazing at me. But there was no concern in that gaze. No warmth. Just... calculation.

I forced a smile, one that cracked at the edges. “ I can't. I think I need to lie down,” I said faintly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m feeling… dizzy.”

Immediately, her expression turned into mock concern. “Of course, darling. Let me take you to your room.”

As we ascended the stairs in silence, my stomach twisted. My heart pounded. I could feel the trap tightening around me like invisible hands.

Mrs. Helena opened the bedroom door. “Get some rest,” she murmured, and just as I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me. Click. It was an unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock.

No. No no no… I spun around, rattled the doorknob. “Mrs. Helena?” I called, panic rising in my throat. No answer. I heard her footsteps retreating down the stairs.

That wicked witch really wanted me locked away no matter what.

I hurriedly looked for the documents I had hidden in my closet. I grabbed them and put them into a small backpack together with my phone.

Without thinking I ran to the window and yanked the curtains aside. I was two stories up. I shoved the window open and climbed out into the night, the cool air hitting me like a slap.

Halfway down, the rope ladder snapped. I hit the ground hard, the shock of it knocking the wind from my lungs. Pain screamed through my arm–bruised, maybe broken but I didn't care. I pushed myself up, blood trailing down my elbow.

I jumped the small wooden fence and landed into the neighbors yard. Thankfully their gate was open and i ran into the street.

At this point, I was already feeling drowsy and my vision was blurred. My heart was racing and I was already hallucinating. Before I knew what was happening, a pair of headlights blinded me like a second sun.

SCREEECH. The impact threw me like a ragdoll and everything went dark.

When I woke up, I stirred to the soft rustle of curtains and the scent of something warm–lavender and citrus. My body ached, my muscles were stiff and sore, but the sheets beneath me were impossibly soft.

Where was I?, I wondered.

My eyes fluttered open. The room was too perfect to be familiar. Cream walls, tall windows veiled in silk, furniture that whispered old money and absolute control. Even the light felt peaceful, as if it was filtered through gold.

Panic flared in my chest. I sat up with a gasp but pain sliced through my ribs like a blade.

“Don’t,” a voice said gently.

I turned sharply and found a woman in a tailored cream coat standing at my bedside, clipboard in hand.

“You fractured a rib and bruised half your body,” the woman said calmly. “You are lucky you weren’t killed.”

I blinked, my throat was dry. “Where am i?”, I asked.

“You’re safe. Private residence. You’ve been unconscious since last night.”

The doctor reached for a small tablet on the side table.

“Vitals are stable. You should try eating soon,” she added. “He’ll want to speak with you.”

“He?”

But the doctor didn’t answer. She checked my pupils with a tiny penlight, jotted something down, and gave a single nod.

“I’ll give you a moment.”

Moments later, a housekeeper entered. She said no words, just a polite smile and set down a silver tray with fresh orange juice, toast, eggs, and tea.

I stared at it. My stomach twisted. It looked safe. But I’d learned not to trust beautiful things.

Still, the smell was too much, I couldn't resist, so I took a small sip of juice and let it settle. The warmth was grounding. My mind swirled. Then it dawned on me.

I had escaped.

Chris. Madison. Mrs. Helena. The drugged wine.

I had escaped them all.

Before I could take another breath, the door creaked open and the finest man I had ever seen walked in.

Tall. Built like he owned the air around him. Dressed in a black wool coat over a grey open-collar shirt. His presence entered the room before he did. Slowly, deliberate, dangerous.

It was the man that hit me. My chest tightened. The doctor brushed past him silently as she left. He nodded at her once, then turned his full attention to me.

For a long second, he said nothing. He just looked at me. Grey eyes. Cold. Unreadable but there was warmth in his eyes.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you,” he said finally.

His voice was smoother than I had imagined, very deep and precise, like every word had weight. “You ran out into the road. Bloodied, dressed like a bride in flight.”

A flash of memory sent a jolt through me. I clutched the sheets tighter.

He walked closer, slow and measured.

“I’m Darian Thorne.”

On hearing the name, My breath caught.

That name.

Thorne.

Chris had raged about that name once. Drunk. He said he was a “monster in a suit,” said he would be finished if Thorne ever sniffed too close.

My heart was thudding as I looked at him. The man Chris fears like the devil himself.

But he didn’t look like a devil.

No. He looked like Peace. Like Power.

I should’ve been terrified. A few days ago, I would have been.

But now, after everything– after the betrayal, the whispers in the study…my fear twisted into something else.

The man Chris feared was standing in front of me. And suddenly, for the first time in what felt like years,

I didn’t feel small. I felt dangerous.

Darian watched me closely.

“My name is familiar, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

I didn’t answer.

But something flickered in my eyes—just enough for him to know he was right.

"I didn't try to run a background check on you, even though you looked like you were running from something but I trust we would get to know each other when the time is right".

And with that, he turned and left the room.

Chris's POV

That morning at the Rowan residence, Chris had gone to Selina's room to check if everything was already set as planned.

He inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open, expecting silence, perhaps the sight of her curled up in a defeated pose on the bed. But the room was still.

His eyes darted around. The bed was untouched. Closet half open. The window was wide open. Curtains swaying like they were waving goodbye.

Chris’s chest tightened. “Selina?” he called, stepping in.

Nothing.

His blood ran cold. “Selina!”

He turned and bolted down the hallway.

“She’s gone!” he barked, storming into the dining room where Mrs. Helena and Madison were seated with coffee and smug satisfaction.

Mrs. Helena blinked. “What?”

“She’s not in her room.”

“That’s impossible,” She snapped. “I locked her in. Myself.”

“Well, unless she turned to mist and vanished, you missed something.”

Madison’s face paled. “She couldn’t have gone out through the window, could she?”

“She did.”

Mrs Helena stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her teacup. “Show me.”

They all rushed back to the room, footsteps echoing like drum beats.

Mrs Helena stared in horror at the open window, the slight scuff marks on the glass, the way the curtain flapped as if laughing at her.

“She climbed out,” Chris muttered, running his hands through his hair. “She jumped the fence.”

“How is this possible? I had her glass laced. That dose was supposed to have her totally knocked out all night” Madison whispered.

Chris paced the room like a man on the verge of losing it, raking a hand through his already disheveled hair.

“She didn’t know,” he muttered. “There’s no way she knew about the lawyer. The inheritance. We were careful.”

“But then why run?” Helena snapped. “Why disappear in the middle of the night? And through the damn window?”

Madison leaned against the vanity, arms folded tight across her chest, voice brittle. “Maybe… maybe she did know. Maybe she heard us.”

Chris suddenly stopped moving, eyes narrowing as the memory clicked into place.

“Wait!. Remember? We caught her near the study that night."

Helena looked like the color drained from her face. “You think she heard the whole thing? Us… planning everything?”

Suddenly, a wail pierced the air.

“Mummy!”

It was Landon, sobbing in a high-pitched voice.

He stood by the doorframe, pajama shirt clinging to his tiny frame, tears streaking down his cheeks.

“ Where’s my mummy?” he asked, looking around the room desperately.

Chris looked like he’d been struck. He crouched. “She just went out, buddy. She’ll be back.”

“You’re lying!” Landon sobbed. “You’re always mean to her!” He turned and fled down the stairs, wailing loudly.

Chris turned sharply to Madison. “Take Landon. Now!. Calm him down.”

Madison blinked. “Me? I, I don’t know how to…”

“You were so eager to play best friend and stepmother,” he snapped. “Now act like it.”

Madison stammered, then turned stiffly and left the room.

Chris abruptly turned to Mrs. Helena; "If she heard everything, then we are screwed"

Chris stormed into the study, slamming the door shut behind him. His breath was ragged, chest heaving as the panic tried to claw its way to the surface. He snatched his phone off the desk, thumb flying across the screen as he dialed Selina's number.

But her line was dead and he heard a voicemail instead.

He cursed and slammed the phone down, then snatched it up again. This time, he called Arturo—his most trusted man.

“Find her,” he barked the second the call connected. “Selina. She’s on foot, probably bruised, scared. Check hospitals, motels, clinics, everywhere. And Arturo…”

“Yes, boss?”

“If she tries to contact a lawyer named Harrison Vale, I want to know before she even walks through his door. Got it?”

"Sure, boss", he replied and Chris hung up.

Next, he dialed a private number from memory. He’d only ever used it once, when the arrangements were first made.

It rang once. Then again.

Finally, a smooth voice answered. Calm. Detached. Professional.

“Dr. Voss.”

Chris exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. “It’s me. The situation’s changed.”

A pause.

“What kind of change?”

“She’s gone,” Chris hissed. “Selina escaped. We locked her in last night after the drug kicked in, but she’s not here."

There was a faint rustle of papers on the other end. “Was she showing signs of psychosis?”

“No,” Chris snapped. “At least, not the way you mean.

On the other end, the doctor's voice came through, clipped and deadly calm. “Let me get this straight. You drugged her last night, locked her in her room, and now you’re telling me she vanished into thin air?”

Chris’s voice was raw. “Yes. We thought she was out cold. We did everything the way we discussed. Subtle, controlled, gradual. She wasn’t supposed to put the pieces together. But something spooked her.”

“Or someone did,” the doctor muttered.

Chris flinched.

“She didn’t just vanish. She had help or she planned this.” Dr. Voss’s voice dropped into something colder than anger.

“And if she has even a whiff of what you were trying to do, if she even breathes the psychiatric hospital to a lawyer or the press–then we’re all going under.”

“I’m handling it. I’ve got people watching every damn road in and out of town.", Chris replied.

“You listen to me very carefully, Christopher,” Voss finally said, voice like ice cutting through fog. “You brought me into this. I bent rules for you. Fabricated records. Adjusted prescriptions. I risked everything. My reputation, my license, my career.”

Chris swallowed hard. “I know. That’s why…”

“I’m not finished.” The doctor’s tone sharpened like a scalpel. “If this snowballs into an investigation, if anyone comes looking at my records or at our conversations, I will not go down alone. Do you understand me?”

Chris froze.

“If this becomes a mess I can’t clean, I will throw you and your mother under the bus so fast your neck will snap. Don’t call me again until she’s either found--or silenced.”

Click.

Chris stared at the phone.

The call was over. The alliance was broken. The cracks were spreading, and for the first time in a long time, Chris felt powerless.