Don't apologize," she said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You didn't do anything wrong."
I nodded slowly, though guilt still sat heavily on my chest. She looked at me carefully.
"Do you need anything?" she asked.
I paused… then lied. "No. I'm fine."
She didn't believe me I could tell but she didn't push. I gave her a weak smile and turned to leave the kitchen.
My feet led me to the pool.
But when I got there, my breath caught in my throat.
It was covered.
I walked closer, staring at the thick cover stretched tightly across the surface. My fists clenched.
"OPEN THIS!" I screamed suddenly, my voice slicing through the quiet. "Take it off now!" but they didn't answer me.
"Miss Hayes," Harrow said, breathless but calm. "We are under strict orders from Mr. Voss. The pool remains covered."
"I don't care what he said!" I yelled, voice breaking. "It's a pool, not a prison wall!"
"I'm sorry, Miss," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "But we're following instructions. For your safety."
I scoffed and shook my head. "My safety. Right."
One of the guards stood at the corner, unaware, his arms folded tightly across his chest.
His eyes didn't even meet mine.
I walked past slowly, deliberately, heart pounding, pretending like I was headed to the garden.
Then I saw it.
The knife.
Tucked loosely at his side, half-hidden beneath his belt. A real blade. Not plastic. Not dull. Sharp metal glinting like a secret.
My heart kicked harder. I turned my body slightly and moved fast—faster than I thought I could.
I grabbed it.
His hand reached for me too late.
"Miss—!"
I spun away, and in my rush, my fingers slipped.
Pain.
A sharp sting sliced through my palm, followed by warmth.
I looked down.
Blood.
I staggered back, breathing hard. The guard and Harrow reached for me, panic in their eyes.
"Miss Hayes! You're hurt—let me see that!"
"No!" I barked, cradling my bleeding hand. "Don't touch me!"
But it was too late another guard had rushed over, taking the knife from me.and Clara was already running toward us from the far hallway.
"Liana!" she gasped. "What happened?!"
"I'm fine!" I snapped, trying to pull away.
But the blood kept coming, dripping onto the cold marble floor, staining the white like a scream.
I stormed past them, ignoring Clara's worried look. My heart felt like it was swelling in my chest—tight, painful.
I slammed the door to my room shut behind me.
I dropped to my knees, my shoulders trembling.
Not even death belonged to me anymore.
He hadn't just taken my freedom. He'd taken choice.
He'd taken my pain and locked it away in a cage with me.
And for the first time…
I didn't cry.
I screamed.
Then I heard a knock on the door
"Liana…" Clara whispered
"I want to be alone," I muttered and she left.
***
The hallway was silent as Dominic returned to the mansion that evening, the hum of the car engine fading behind him.
He didn't know what to expect after he got a call from Harrow that Liana had cut her hand with a knife' he was furious.
A broken plate? Another locked door?
"What the hell happened?" he barked, his voice sharp and low.
Harrow spoke first. "She—she took a knife. From one of the guards. It was an accident, but she's bleeding."