The house was still.
Except for the sound of her breathing through the vents.
Roman Ashborne sat in the leather chair by the surveillance wall, his fingers steepled, eyes devouring every pixel of her awakening. She sat on the edge of the bed like someone grieving. Her hands trembled slightly. She touched the edge of the nightstand, then the hem of the duvet. Each item whispered familiarity — and that was by design.
"She's trying to decide," Roman said softly.
Lelo was curled beside him, legs folded neatly, her sketchbook in her lap.
"Decide what?" she asked.
"If she's dreaming… or dead."
Lelo hummed, tapping her pencil against the leather. "She'll cry next."
And she did.
A single tear slid down Serene's cheek, catching the light of the fake sunlamp they'd installed to simulate her old window.
Roman leaned forward. "She remembers the scent. That's why she's shaking."
"You used her real perfume," Lelo whispered.
"I used everything," he replied. "Down to the chipped corner of her mirror. I've waited too long to get it wrong now."
Lelo tilted her head. "Can we go in yet?"
Roman's jaw tensed.
"Not yet."
"But she's here now," the girl insisted, pouting. "She should meet me. I even wore the pink dress you liked."
He didn't look at her.
His gaze remained locked on Serene — who was now on her knees, trying to open a drawer that had no handle.
"She needs to feel alone first," Roman said, voice colder now. "Completely, unbearably alone. That's how she'll break properly."
Lelo's eyes narrowed.
She hated when he spoke like that — like Serene was his and not hers.
"I could keep her company," Lelo whispered, sliding a drawing toward him.
It was Serene.
Smiling.
With Lelo.
With Roman.
A perfect little family.
"No," Roman said flatly.
The air thinned.
"She's not ready."
Lelo gripped her pencil tighter. "What if she never wants to be?"
Roman turned to her at last, something dark flickering in his eyes.
"She already is," he said. "She just doesn't remember."
---
Down the hall, servants moved silently behind false walls. A tray of food was lowered through a slit in the door. A nightgown, identical to one Serene used to wear in university, was hung beside the closet.
Every second was engineered.
Every heartbeat scheduled.
Every crack in her mind… was part of the design.
---