Aurora's POV
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The car ride back from campus was dead silent.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because if I opened my mouth, I'd scream.
I kept my body pressed against the door, as far from Damien as I could manage. I didn't look at him. I didn't breathe too deeply. I didn't blink too long.
My fingers were clenched into my sleeves. My heart wouldn't stop pounding.
He had smiled at me when I climbed into the car. Just a faint twitch of his mouth. Like we were lovers meeting after class.
Like this was normal.
I hated that smile more than I hated the chain on my ankle.
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When we pulled into the long driveway of his estate, I nearly choked on the weight of it all over again. The tall gates. The endless concrete path. The suffocating silence.
The moment the car stopped, I yanked the door handle and stepped out. My knees wobbled. The air smelled like clean grass and money and something metallic.
Damien rounded the car slowly, deliberately, and opened the front door to the house like a gentleman. He didn't speak.
I didn't either.
Not until we were inside.
Until the lock slid into place behind me.
Until the illusion of freedom disappeared again.
---
"I need to use the bathroom," I said stiffly.
He tilted his head. "Say please."
I turned to face him, fists clenched. "Please."
He didn't move. "Say it properly."
I swallowed. My throat felt like sandpaper.
"Please… can I use the bathroom?"
A long pause. Then he smiled faintly.
"See? That wasn't so hard."
---
When I stepped inside, I locked the door and dropped to the floor, shaking. I couldn't cry. I was too angry. Too afraid. Too disgusted with how calm he made it all seem.
I couldn't live like this.
He couldn't keep me forever.
I had to find a way out.
---
Back in the bedroom, something was different.
The closet door was slightly ajar.
I had never opened it. I didn't want to see what he kept in there. But now… it was open.
My stomach dropped.
I moved slowly, like I was approaching a cliff's edge.
Inside the walk-in closet wasn't clothes.
Not like normal people's closets.
It was her.
Me.
Photos.
Prints. Polaroids. Surveillance shots.
Me at school. Me walking alone. Me crying in the library. Me asleep in my dorm.
Hundreds of them.
Dozens taped to the wall, arranged like a shrine. Like I was a celebrity or a god or a ghost. And in the center—
My underwear.
More than one pair.
Folded. Tucked into a little glass box. Labeled.
"First time she wore black lace."
"The ones she dropped in the dryer."
"From the night she walked home alone."
I staggered backward. My vision blurred. My hands shook so badly I had to hold the wall to stay upright.
He'd been watching me.
For years.
Not just casually. Not from a distance.
He had collected me.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw something else.
A wedding dress.
Hung delicately in the corner. Pure white. Long sleeves. Modest neckline. My size.
A veil still in the packaging.
A pair of shoes that looked exactly like the ones I'd once saved to my Pinterest board when I was sixteen.
He knew everything.
---
The door creaked.
I whipped around.
Damien stood there, leaning casually against the frame, like this was a perfectly reasonable thing to walk in on.
His voice was low.
"You weren't supposed to see that yet."
I backed away instantly. "You're insane."
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he stepped into the closet and ran a hand along the rack holding the dress.
"You looked beautiful when you wore white that one day," he said softly. "I knew it would suit you. I knew the first time I saw you that I'd marry you."
I felt bile rise in my throat. "I'm not marrying you."
He looked at me. Calm. Steady.
"Yes, you are."
"No." I shook my head violently. "Never. I will never—"
"You already are," he said, holding up a folder from behind his back. He opened it. Inside was a marriage license. My name. His. Signatures.
Mine looked shaky. Off.
Faked.
I felt like I was drowning.
"That's not real."
"It's real enough." His tone never rose. "I have the paperwork. The rings. The priest. The photographer. The online announcement."
"You're lying."
"I don't lie to you, Aurora," he said gently. "I lie for you."
---
I couldn't breathe.
My voice cracked. "My mother would never agree."
"She already has."
"No."
"She's very concerned for your safety." He smiled. "She thinks I'm protecting you from an ex-boyfriend. I told her you needed somewhere quiet to recover. She signed a release form. She thinks you're safe."
"You tricked her!"
"No." He stepped closer. "I saved you from the world that never saw you. Never loved you. Never protected you."
"I didn't need saving!"
"Didn't you?" he whispered. "All that pain. All that loneliness. You walk through life like you're invisible. But not to me."
"I hate you."
"I can live with that."
---
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
Silver. Delicate. My style.
He held it out. "Wear it."
I stared at him, trembling. "I'd rather die."
He exhaled, then smiled—slow and cold. "If you don't wear it by tomorrow morning… I'll send your mother a video of what you look like when you cry for me."
My heart stopped.
He tilted his head. "You think I don't have cameras? There are six in this room. I've recorded every second."
"You wouldn't."
"I don't bluff, Aurora."
---
He left the ring on the vanity.
Then walked out, the door clicking softly behind him.
---
I sat down slowly on the bed.
Stared at the ring.
Then stared at my reflection.
I didn't recognize the girl in the mirror.
She looked like me. But hollow. Empty. Haunted.
And married.
🖤 End of Chapter