Andrian drove recklessly, not even bothering to watch his speed. All he could think about was Fidelia — the possibility that she was in trouble kept flashing in his mind like a warning siren.
When he got in front of her house, he parked haphazardly, not even checking if he had done it right. He flung open the car door and ran toward the gate, not caring to shut it behind him. Luckily, the gate was open.
Before entering, he paused. That was when he noticed Fidelia's car parked beside the wall of the house.
'She's inside'
That certainty hit him like a punch. He bolted through the compound and reached the front door. He pressed the doorbell. No answer. He pressed it again, harder this time. Still nothing. Then he started banging loudly on the door.
Inside, Bridget and Alice rushed into the living room, startled by the loud noise. When they saw Andrian through the peephole, Bridget immediately started panicking.
"What is he doing here?" she whispered, heart racing.
Alice, calmer than her sister, didn't answer. Instead, she turned quickly and went to open the door to Fidelia's room. After that, she returned and opened the main door.
The moment she did, Andrian stepped in fast.
"Where is Fidelia?" he asked sharply. There was no room for lies in his voice.
Alice swallowed. She was sure Fidelia hadn't contacted him—so how did he know?
"She's in her room," Alice replied, trying to keep her voice even.
Andrian's jaw clenched. "Where is her room?"
Neither of them answered right away. His voice thundered this time.
"Where. Is. It?"
Alice hesitated, then slowly pointed down the hallway—toward the door she had just quietly unlocked.
And without another word, Andrian stormed down the hall.
While driving to the hospital, Andrian kept his speed low, careful not to wake her. Fidelia was resting in the front seat, her face pale and bruised. He kept glancing at her, his hands tight around the steering wheel.
Then, slowly, she stirred.
Her lashes fluttered before her eyes opened just a little. A weak breath left her lips.
He noticed immediately. "Hey… are you okay?" his voice was gentle but strained.
She turned her head slightly, confused, dazed.
"Just hold on, we'll be at the hospital soon," he said.
She shook her head weakly. "No… not the hospital. Please… not the hospital."
"What do you mean? You can't even stand—"
"No hospital," she insisted, her voice trembling.
He frowned, but didn't argue further. Instead, he pulled the car over, grabbed his phone, and dialed quickly.
"Come to my place. It's urgent—hurry," he said before hanging up.
Spinning the car around, he headed straight for his house. If she refused the hospital, the least he could do was have her treated at home.
When they arrived, he carried her inside and laid her on the bed. Then, with a deep breath, he tied her down—restraining her trembling body as he waited for the family doctor to arrive.
Not long after, the family doctor arrived, stepping quickly into the room.
"Where is she?" he asked, his eyes scanning the place.
"In here," the man replied, leading him to the bedroom.
The doctor froze at the sight of her. "What's going on? Are you hurt?" His voice carried both worry and suspicion, as if he'd expected something different from what he was seeing.
After a moment, the doctor returned carrying his medical box.
"Is that your wife?" he asked. "What happened?"
"I have no idea," the man admitted. "I was hoping you could find out."
The doctor examined her carefully, then finally stepped back. "She's fine," he said. "Just exhausted. I've given her something to help her calm down. Let her rest, and when she wakes, make sure she eats. I doubt she's had anything all day."
They were still talking when a knock came at the door. Maya stepped inside, her eyes darting around the room.
"I heard you called the family doctor," she said. "I thought you were sick. I thought something had happened."
"No, I'm fine," he replied.
"What about… Fidelia? Did you find her?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "She's inside, sleeping. Something happened, but I don't know what. Let's wait until she wakes up… then we'll decide."
....
"Mom, I'm worried," Bridgetsaid quietly. "Do you think she'll report what we did to her?"
Her mother gave a short, dismissive laugh. "She? No. She's been acting tough lately, but today I saw how scared she really is. She's just the same little girl I used to control back then. Nothing's changed."
A cold smile crossed her face. "After today, she's learned not to offend me again."
Fidelia stirred awake, her eyes slowly blinking open as she lay on the bed. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar. She didn't know where she was… or how she got here.
All she could remember was Andrian—his face appearing in her room, the sound of his voice, and him driving her somewhere.
Then it hit her..Flashes. Violent, raw flashes of the past. Her stepmother. Her sister voices, the cruelty, the betrayal. The pain.
The trauma she thought she had buried clawed its way back, and before she could stop herself, tears started to pool and stream down her face.
She curled up tighter on the bed, trying to suppress it—trying to be the strong version of herself she had pretended to be. But the cracks were wide open now.
"I can't marry Andrian again... I... I can't marry him," she whispered shakily to herself. "I can't disobey her."
A voice inside her head answered, bitter and sharp.
You already did. So what are you scared of now?
Do you want to go back into her cage? Back to that locked room?
"I don't want to feel that again," Fidelia sobbed. "I just can't... I can't..."
She was breaking.
All the strength she'd forced herself to wear like armor—gone. The "strong girl" act. The carefully crafted revenge plan. The defiance. It all felt heavy now, unbearable. She wasn't sure she could carry it anymore.
I'm going to die again... like before, the voice whispered.
You won't survive it this time...
That was when the door creaked open.
Andrian stepped inside, his brows furrowed the moment he saw her.
"Fidelia?" his voice was low, cautious. "Are you okay? You should be resting… what happened?"
"I can't…" she sobbed harder, folding into herself. "I can't do this any longer. I'm not strong enough. I can't disobey her…"
Andrian froze.
He had never seen her like this before. Not Fidelia.
Not the woman who faced him with fire in her eyes, who held secrets like weapons, who moved through storms like she was the storm.
And now... she looked like a shattered girl—scared, fragile, drowning in something he couldn't yet understand.
What the hell did they do to you? he thought, a rage silently brewing in his chest
"Hey… look at me," he said softly, reaching for her trembling hands. "You're safe here. You're not going back to that house."
Fidelia's eyes darted to his, her breath shaky. She didn't know why, but the words started spilling out. The things she had locked away for years… the pain, the humiliation, the way her stepmother and stepsister had treated her like she was nothing. She had never told anyone before—not a friend, not a lover. And now here she was, telling him.
By the time she finished, Andrian's jaw was tight, his hands fisting at his sides. "Don't worry," he said firmly. "You are not going back there. As for them… I'll report them to the cops. I'll make sure she gets arrested."
"No."
The word was sharp. Cold. It stopped him.
And when Fidelia looked at him again, there was fire in her eyes. "Don't do anything… they're mine. And I'm going to destroy them."
Andrian was stunned. For a heartbeat, he just stared at her. This wasn't the broken girl from minutes ago—this was the Fidelia he knew. The one with sharp edges and a will made of steel.
He couldn't blame her. He almost pitied anyone who stood in her way.
Then, unexpectedly, a smile tugged at his lips. "There she is…" he murmured.
Standing up, he nodded toward the bathroom. "Freshen up. I got some night clothes for you over there. When you're done, come to the kitchen…"
He smirked. "Maya's cooking a disaster."
Fidelia barked out a short, bitter laugh before falling back against the bed.
Her hands ached—plastered, yes, but the throbbing pain hadn't eased.
Dragging herself up, she went into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and tears. When she stepped out, she slipped into the night clothes Andrian had left for her.
She began looking around for her phone… but then she froze. The memory hit like a slap—her stepmother's hand ripping it away, her stepsister's voice dripping with malice before she heard the sharp crack of it hitting the floor.
She had been holding that phone all day, waiting for the exact moment the coin price would dip. She didn't want to miss it.
And that's when it hit her
Oh shit.
Her stomach dropped.
"Fuck!!!" she gasped, bolting out of the room. She ran straight into the sitting room, grabbed her laptop from the coffee table, and powered it on with frantic fingers. Her crypto wallet page loaded slowly—too slowly.
In the kitchen, Maya nearly dropped the wooden spoon she was holding. "I thought she was sick?" she whispered, brows furrowed.
"So did I…" Andrian muttered, slowly rising from his chair and following her toward the living room.
On the couch, Fidelia was hunched over her laptop, clicking furiously. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!! Shit!" she screamed, her voice tight with frustration