đź–¤ Chapter 1: Sold to a Stranger
The contract lay on the table like a silent execution. Her signature shimmered in black ink, already dry, already done.
Evelyn didn't look up. She couldn't. The weight of her mother's hospital bills, the debt collectors, the threats—it all pressed down on her spine until she broke.
Now she belonged to him.
Lucien Black.
The youngest billionaire in the country. Cold, calculated, and untouchable. He didn't believe in love. He believed in ownership. And she had just sold herself for a price she could never count.
"You'll be my wife in public," he said, voice like glass.
"But behind closed doors… you're nothing more than a debt repaid."
Her heart clenched. This wasn't marriage. This was a transaction.
Lucien rose from his chair and walked toward her, his dark suit absorbing the dim light like a shadow come alive.
"Don't expect affection," he murmured. "I don't do love, Evelyn. Just obedience."
Three rules:
Don't question him. Don't touch him. Never, ever open the locked room at the end of the hall.
Evelyn had no intention of breaking them. Until the nightmares began.
Until she started hearing crying behind the locked door.
Until she realized…
Lucien wasn't just hiding secrets.
He was hiding her past.
And maybe, just maybe…
He was the reason she had forgotten everything.
đź’Ž Chapter 2: The Locked Room
Evelyn's hands were trembling as she clutched the strap of her purse. Her heels clicked against the marble floor of the mansion, echoing like gunshots in the suffocating silence.
Lucien walked a step ahead, silent as always. No small talk. No welcome.
"This is your room," he said, pushing open a large wooden door at the end of the hallway. "My quarters are on the east wing. We'll keep things… professional."
Professional.
The word felt like ice down her spine.
She entered the room without a word, trying not to look back at him. The air inside was cold, like the heat had never been turned on. Like the room had been waiting, untouched.
That night, Evelyn couldn't sleep.
Every creak of the old house made her flinch. Every shift in the wind sounded like footsteps. Then, just past 2:45 a.m., she heard it.
A soft sound.
Whimpering.
Faint crying—like a child sobbing in the dark.
She sat up in bed, frozen.
It was coming from the hallway. Not far. Just a few doors down.
Just… beyond the locked door.
Lucien's rule came back to her like a slap.
"Never open the door at the end of the hall."
But her feet moved on their own.
She tiptoed down the hallway, holding her breath. The crying grew louder—painful, almost inhuman. She reached the door. It looked old, older than the rest of the house, and the handle was icy cold.
She touched it.
Locked.
But someone—something—was definitely on the other side.
She leaned in, and that's when she heard it:
"Evelyn… you promised you'd never leave me."
Her blood ran cold.
That voice.
It sounded like hers.
Back in her room, Evelyn locked the door and sat against it, heart pounding.
She didn't believe in ghosts.
But what if this house was haunted… not by the dead, but by the past?
🔥 To be continued…