Morning came. The sun casting its bright rays through the window.
Ravenna didn't know how she managed to sleep—maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe her mind simply shut down to survive. The silence was maddening. She'd woken up several times during the night, thinking she heard footsteps, expecting the door to creak open and reveal something—or someone—far worse than her nightmares.
But no one came.
Just then the door unlocked with a sharp metallic click.
A woman entered. Not the maid type—no uniform, no polite smile. She was beautiful, maybe in her early thirties, with long black hair tied in a tight ponytail and a perfectly tailored black sheath dress. Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she crossed the room and looked down at Ravenna with cool detachment.
"So, you're the stray."
Ravenna stiffened, hugging the blanket closer to her chest. "Where am I?"
"You're in Mr. Moretti's estate," the woman replied flatly. "You will refer to him as Mr. Moretti or Sir at all times. You don't speak unless spoken to. You don't leave this room unless escorted. You don't touch anything that isn't yours. Understand?"
Ravenna opened her mouth, then nodded slowly.
"I'm Chiara. I manage the house staff. You're not a guest here," she added with a thin smile. "You're an inconvenience we're being paid to tolerate. So don't mistake the bedding and warm food for kindness."
Ravenna's throat tightened. "Paid?"
Chiara's eyes narrowed. "You're not just his prisoner you're also his responsibility—for now. Don't give him a reason to change that."
Before Ravenna could ask more, Chiara tossed a bundle of folded clothes onto the bed—simple black dress, flats, and underthings. Ravenna noticed they were all exactly her size. Her heart skipped.
He had her measured?
"Shower. Change. You'll be cleaning the music room this morning," Chiara said as she turned on her heel. "You'll eat after. Don't make me repeat myself."
---
The mansion was a maze.
As Ravenna followed another staff member through wide corridors with marble floors and endless windows, she felt like she was walking through someone else's life. The halls were silent, almost reverent, as if sound itself feared Adrien Moretti.
They reached the music room—an ornate space filled with antique instruments, polished floors, and velvet curtains. Sunlight poured through the high windows like a cruel reminder of the world outside.
She stumbled clumsily. Abroom, a mop, and a bucket waited in the corner.
"Get started," the woman instructed, then shut the door behind her.
Ravenna stood there, clutching the mop handle like a lifeline. She hadn't done housework before. She hadn't been allowed to. But now, she was expected to scrub the baseboards of a criminal's mansion to earn her life.
She moved quietly, grcefully, wiping dust from piano legs, straightening music sheets, scrubbing the floor until her knees ached. She had never worked this hard in her entire life
She was on the last corner when the door behind her opened.
She didn't look up.
She felt him.
Adrien's presence was like a cold wind sweeping through the room. Her back tensed. She kept cleaning.
"Turn around," he said simply.
Ravenna slowly did, brushing her hair from her face.
Adrien leaned against the doorframe, he was dressed in a charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark slacks that looked like they cost more than her rent used to be. His eyes raked over her without expression.
"You're not useless after all."
Her hands balled into fists she replied angrily "I'm not your maid."
"You are," he said, voice calm and cruel. "Until I say otherwise."
"Why not kill me?" she snapped before she could stop herself. "If I'm such a risk—"
He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping inches from her. His cologne was intoxicating—clove, smoke, and something darkly masculine.
Ravenna's breath hitched.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Because something about your silence tells me you're smarter than that. You won't speak. Not because you're afraid of dying. But because part of you already has."
Her mouth opened, but yet again nothing came out.
He stepped back and handed her a key.
"Your room. You've earned privacy—barely. Don't lose it."
She stared at it, not knowing if it was a gift or a leash.
"Oh," he added as he turned to go, "There's a party tomorrow night. I expect you to be invisible. Look nice. Speak to no one."
The doors shut behind him.
Ravenna clutched the key to her chest. Her life was a mess.
Be invisible.
Speak to no one.
It turns out she wasn't a prisoner after all
But she was definitely far from free.