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The dining room was a symphony of gold and crystal. A massive chandelier dripped with glittering light, illuminating a long, polished mahogany table set with porcelain plates and gleaming silverware. The air was thick with the scent of a hundred different spices, and a small army of maids moved silently in and out of the room, serving a feast that looked like it belonged in a royal palace. Mrs. Collins sat at the head of the table, her elegant frame a picture of poise, while Alexander sat beside her, his face a neutral mask. Jane was seated across from him, her heart a frantic hummingbird in her chest.
The meal was a lavish affair. There was a delicate, buttery filet of Chilean sea bass with a lemon-herb reduction, a perfectly seared duck breast with a cherry glaze, and a creamy truffle risotto topped with edible gold flakes. Each dish was a work of art, a testament to the immense wealth and a stark contrast to Jane's meager upbringing.
Mrs. Collins, however, seemed more interested in Jane than in the food. "Tell me about your family, dear," she said, her voice warm and inviting. "Alexander tells me you're very close."
Jane's fork clattered against her plate. She picked it up quickly, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. The question was an emotional landmine. She had to lie, she knew she did, but the words felt like they were getting stuck in her throat.
"My… my mom is doing fine," she began, her voice a little shaky. "She's with my siblings in… in Cebu." It was a beautiful, tropical island she had read about, and she hoped the name sounded convincing. "They're... they're doing well."
Mrs. Collins's smile widened. "Oh, that's wonderful. And what about your father?" she asked, her eyes filled with genuine curiosity.
The question hit Jane with the force of a physical blow. The smile on her face faltered and died. The beautiful food on her plate suddenly looked nauseating. A single, traitorous tear rolled down her cheek, a hot betrayal that she couldn't stop. She swiped at it frantically, but it was too late. Mrs. Collins had seen it.
"He… he's… dead," Jane finally managed to choke out, the words a raw, painful whisper.
The warmth on Mrs. Collins's face immediately turned to sympathy. She reached across the table and took Jane's hand, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Oh, my dear. I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry about your loss."
Jane couldn't speak. The dam had broken, and a few more tears spilled over. Mrs. Collins didn't let go of her hand. She picked a tender piece of sea bass from her own plate and, with a motherly grace, placed it on Jane's plate.
"You must eat, my dear," she said softly. "Look at you, you're so tiny. So skinny. You're too slim. You need to gain some weight." She kept adding food to Jane's plate, each morsel a heavy, unspoken burden of guilt and affection.
Jane felt a confusing mix of emotions. She had expected to be judged, to be found unworthy. She had prepared for coldness and dismissal. Instead, she was being met with a motherly concern she hadn't experienced in a long, long time. The irony was brutal. The very woman she had hoped would be her ticket to freedom was now making it impossible for her to leave.
To distract from the somber mood, Mrs. Collins launched into stories from Alexander's past. "Oh, my boy was a handful," she said with a laugh that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "You would never believe the stupid things he did when he was a kid. He once put all the gardeners' tools in the swimming pool because he thought it was 'too quiet' and needed a little 'drama'."
Jane managed a small, watery smile. She looked at Alexander, who was now staring at his mother with an expression of pure, unadulterated mortification.
"And he had a secret stash of cookies in his pillowcase," Mrs. Collins continued, leaning in conspiratorially. "He was so secretive about it, and then one day, I found a whole nest of mice in his bed. He blamed his father's old shoes!"
Jane's small smile grew into a genuine one. The image of the powerful, terrifying Alexander as a boy with mice in his bed was so absurd it was almost comical.
"But the most ridiculous thing he ever did was when he was in his last year of high school," Mrs. Collins said, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "There was a girl who was absolutely smitten with him, and she lived just two blocks from us. She would follow him everywhere."
Alexander finally spoke, his voice a low, warning growl. "Mother, that's enough."
Mrs. Collins simply waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, honey, don't be so dramatic. So, what did he do? He came home one day and demanded we change his school, immediately! He stayed home for a whole month until we finally enrolled him in a new school across town. All because he couldn't stand her 'puppy dog eyes' when she looked at him."
She chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound. "He's just like his father," she said, her voice filled with pride. "Strong, and determined. Hardworking. Once he sets his mind to something, there's no stopping him."
She looked at Jane, her expression a mix of affection and a kind of fierce pride. "His father built this empire from nothing. He was a man who saw what he wanted and went after it, no matter the cost. Alexander is the same. He's a man who gets what he wants."
The words sent a shiver down Jane's spine. A man who gets what he wants. She was his latest acquisition, his new prize. The delicious food in her stomach suddenly felt like a heavy, cold weight.
After the meal, Mrs. Collins announced that she was going to have some rest. She hugged Jane again, a warm, possessive embrace. "We'll have so much to talk about tomorrow, my dear."
When Jane went to her room, she found the door was locked. She tried the handle, but it didn't budge. She looked around in confusion and saw a guard standing at the end of the hall, his face impassive.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice a little uncertain. "My room is locked."
"You will no longer be staying here," the guard said, his voice flat and emotionless. "You have been moved."
A cold dread spread through Jane's stomach. "Moved?" she asked, her voice a little higher than she intended. "To where?"
"Mr. Alexander's room," he replied, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, toward the massive, imposing oak door at the end of the hall.
Jane's heart began to race. She couldn't breathe. She didn't want to go in there. She couldn't. The memory of the previous night, of his cold command and her humiliation, was still too fresh, too raw. She walked down the long hall, her feet dragging. She stopped in front of his room, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She was scared of going inside. She just stood there, paralyzed by fear, her hand balled into a fist.
The door swung open, and Alexander stood there, his face as dark and unreadable as ever. He had been about to leave the room, his long strides taking him to the door, when he almost collided with her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Standing like a… a spider-man."
He grabbed her arm, his grip hard and unyielding, and drew her inside the room. The door slammed shut behind them, the sound a final, terrifying punctuation mark.
"Don't ever do that again," he warned, his eyes boring into hers. "Don't ever look that terrified in front of my mother. You tried today. You were… convincing. Keep it up, else you know what I'm capable of doing."
He walked over to his massive king-sized bed, his movements fluid and powerful. "You'll be staying here from now on. We can't be staying in separate rooms and expect her to believe we're dating."
The words hit her with a fresh wave of terror. This was a nightmare from which there was no waking up. This was her new reality.