Chapter 8

• A spark of frustration ignited in her chest. He always did this—kept her in the dark, made decisions without giving her even a shred of control. But she wasn’t a bystander in this. Whatever he was dealing with, she was already caught in the middle, whether he admitted it or not.
• “Are you sure about that?” she pressed. “Because from where I’m standing, I have every right to know what’s happening.”
• His jaw tightened, but there was something else in his gaze now—a flicker of something unreadable. Something restrained.
• “Elena,” he said smoothly, his tone shifting into something more measured, more deliberate. “There are things you don’t need to worry about. I take care of what needs to be handled. That’s my role. Yours is to adjust.”
• Her stomach twisted at his words. Adjust. As if she were meant to simply fall in line, to accept whatever reality he dictated for her.
• She clenched her fists. “I’m not just going to sit here while you make decisions for me.”
• Alexander exhaled slowly, as if he were reining himself in. Then, he straightened and turned toward the doorway. “We’ll continue this discussion later.”
• The finality in his voice sent a sharp pang of frustration through her. Before she could respond, he was already walking away, disappearing down the hallway with the same silent authority he always carried.
• Elena stood frozen, her breath unsteady.
• Elena’s breath caught as she watched Alexander disappear through the door, leaving her alone in the grand dining hall. The weight of his last words still lingered in the air, pressing against her like an invisible force. Whatever was happening, it was serious—serious enough to pull Alexander away immediately.
• She glanced at the guards stationed near the entrance. Their expressions were unreadable, their postures rigid. Whatever the "development" was, they knew about it. But she wouldn’t get any answers from them.
• Her fingers curled into fists. She hated this feeling—the constant uncertainty, the endless power struggle. But most of all, she hated the way Alexander always seemed to be one step ahead, always controlling the situation. Even now, she was left to wonder, to guess, to wait.
• No. Not this time.
• Elena pushed back her chair and stood. The guards’ gazes flickered toward her, but they didn’t stop her as she exited the dining hall. Her heart pounded as she made her way through the long, elegant corridors. She didn’t have a plan, but she had to do something. Anything.
• She turned a corner and nearly collided with Vincent.
• “Elena,” he greeted smoothly, as if he had been expecting her. His eyes were as sharp as ever, taking in her every movement.
• “Where’s Alexander?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.
• Vincent gave a slight tilt of his head. “Handling matters that don’t concern you.”
• Elena narrowed her eyes. “Everything concerns me when I’m being held here against my will.”
• He let out a low chuckle. “Is that what you think?”
• Before she could respond, footsteps echoed down the hall. A new presence entered the space—a man she didn’t recognize. He was older, his suit impeccable, his expression cold and calculating.
• “Elena,” he said, his tone even. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
• Her stomach twisted. “Who are you?”
• The man glanced at Vincent before turning back to her. “That’s not important. What matters is that you’re becoming a problem.”
• Her pulse spiked. “A problem?”
• Vincent stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Elena, go back to your room.”
• She set her jaw. “Not until someone tells me what’s going on.”
• The older man smirked. “You’re more stubborn than I expected.”
• Elena braced herself as he took a slow step closer. Every instinct told her to run, but she stood her ground.
• “You see, Alexander is a man who likes control,” the man continued, his voice eerily smooth. “And you… you disrupt that balance.”
• Elena swallowed hard, refusing to show weakness. “If that’s the case, then he shouldn’t have taken me.”
• The man chuckled. “Oh, my dear, you were never meant to be anything but his. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
• A chill ran down her spine. She had to get away from him. From all of them.
• “Elena,” Vincent said again, his voice more forceful. “Go.”
• She clenched her fists, hesitating for only a moment before turning on her heel. She didn’t want to walk away, but she knew when to pick her battles.
• As she made her way back to her room, her mind raced. Who was that man? Why did he seem so certain about her place in all of this? And more importantly—what was Alexander really hiding?