The return of Lucian's wife Irina had been like the icy breeze that precedes a devastating storm: silent, elegant, but relentless.
For weeks, she had walked the corridors of the mansion like a refined shadow. Watched. Listened. Smiled. She didn't raise her voice, didn't break glasses, didn't demand explanations. It was his calmness that was most disturbing.
Ana, still upset by the accusation that had splashed her, could hardly hold that woman's gaze. Irina did not insult her, or push her, or shout at her. No. Her cruelty had another form: cold, polished, perfect.
It started with small gestures.
He changed her shift in the kitchen, forcing her to work all night. He modified the corridors in which she could walk, making her have to go halfway around the mansion to get to her duties. He forbade her to speak to other servants without direct permission.
Lucian seemed to ignore him. Or maybe he knew and didn't want to face it. He too had transformed, more distant, more paranoid, more possessive. As if he feared that Ana might disappear from his hands at a moment's notice.
One night, Irina sent for her in the matrimonial room.
Ana arrived shivering, her breath hitching and her hands cold.
Irina was sitting in front of an antique mirror, brushing her hair with calculated slowness.
-Tell me, Ana," she began with a gentleness that bordered on venom, "How does it feel to live in such a beautiful cage?
Ana did not answer. She only lowered her gaze.
Irina got up and approached slowly.
-Do you know what breaks my heart? -She continued, stopping in front of her. Not that Lucian cheated on me... but that he thought he could replace me with something so... ordinary.
The blow was not physical. It was the edge of the words that cut deepest.
Irina raised her hand, a ring glinting like a dagger in the gloom.
-He thinks he loves you. But Lucian loves no one without destroying him first. I learned that late. But you, my dear... you're learning it the hard way.
Then he held out a dress.
-Wear it tonight. There's a dinner party. Important guests. Smile. Show gratitude. If you stumble... I won't be responsible for the consequences.
That night, Ana felt the weight of an invisible cage. Lucian grabbed her arm as always, proud, almost possessive. Irina, from the other end of the table, watched her with wolfish eyes.
And Ana understood: it was no longer just a power game. It was a silent, bloody war, in which every smile could be a sentence.
A cage of gold and blood.
And she... the centerpiece of the show.