Anne's heart pounded with a restlessness that she could not calm. There was a new shadow in her thoughts, a persistent voice that whispered to her that something didn't fit, that the story Lucian had told her... had cracks in it.
The night before, he had assured her that everything he did was for love. That the world outside was cruel. That only in his arms would she be safe.
And she-she who wanted so badly to believe in that love-almost believed him.
Until she found the drawer.
She had gone into Lucian's office with the excuse of cleaning. It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time she had dared to explore beyond what was allowed. Something inside her told her that it had to do with her own voids. With the questions no one was answering.
She opened one of the desk drawers. Inside, there were several folders marked with her name.
Ana Vladimirova.
Her old last name. One she hadn't pronounced in years.
With trembling hands, she flipped through the documents. There were records. Photographs. Transcripts of phone calls from her childhood. Reports of her time in temporary orphanages. Letters from her mother. Records of the day she was sold. Everything.
Lucian knew it all from the beginning.
He hadn't just found her by chance.
He had searched for her. Researched. Bought her.
And then he'd offered her comfort as if it were an act of redemption, when it was just another stage in his control.
Ana recoiled as if the folders had burned her.
That wasn't love. It was emotional engineering.
An illusion perfectly constructed to make her feel protected by the one who, in reality, had pulled the strings of her confinement.
Later that night, when Lucian entered her room, he found her sitting on the bed, documents at her feet. Her face was pale, her expression contained all the tremor of a newfound truth.
He made no attempt to deny it.
-I did it for you," he said with unnerving calm. Because the world would have devoured you. Because you weren't going to survive out there.
-You robbed me of the chance to find out for myself," Anne whispered, holding back tears.
-I saved you," Lucian replied, leaning closer. And yes, I may have tampered with the pieces. But wasn't I also your refuge?
Anne looked at him with a mixture of fury and sadness.
Because, yes, he had been a refuge...
But also a storm.
-You didn't save me, Lucian. You caged me with pretty words. And I... I mistook prison for love.
His words hung in the air like daggers.
Lucian, for the first time, looked stricken. His mask cracked. He took a step back, as if the words had struck him.
Anne watched him in silence. In her chest beat not only betrayal... also a goodbye she did not know when she might utter.
And that night, for the first time, she slept with her back to him.
As if she began to build an invisible barrier.
As if, little by little, she was learning to let go.