Morning began in the Harrington estate like the slow unfurling of a storm—quiet, deceptive, but pulsing with pressure beneath the calm. The east wing, normally a place of uneasy silence, thrummed with something brittle, something on edge. The air carried a subtle tension, as though the house itself sensed that today would be different.
Seraphina knew it the moment she woke up.
She felt the shift even before her eyes opened—felt the chill in the room, the heaviness in her chest, the way the world suddenly seemed farther away. Her dreams had been fragmented, brittle pieces of fear that scattered the moment she tried to recall them. All she remembered was reaching for Adrian and finding nothing.
When she sat up, her nerves were already trembling. Something was wrong. Something had changed overnight. She felt it in her bones like a premonition.
And when she opened the door to the hallway, she understood.
Her two usual guards were gone.Replaced by four.
Four guards in perfectly tailored suits, standing like carved monoliths. Their expressions were hard, unreadable. Their posture was subtly angled—not outward to protect her, but inward to contain her.
Her pulse kicked painfully.
"Why are there more of you?" she demanded. Her voice cracked.
One of the guards bowed slightly. "Orders from the Chairman."
Her stomach dropped.
Chairman.Not Adrian.Chairman.
He gave her nothing else, but he didn't need to. The shift in formality alone struck her like a slap. She realized in that moment that whatever fragile thread still connected them had tightened—and not in her favor.
She tried walking past them.
One guard stepped forward.
"Madam, your schedule today is adjusted. You have therapy and indoor rest."
"Move," she said. It came out thinner than she intended. "I need to see him."
"We cannot permit that."
She tried again, this time desperate enough to push.
His arm extended, firm and immovable. "Madam. Please don't make this difficult."
That was when panic struck her fully, a blade sliding under her ribs.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why are you doing this? Why won't he see me?"
The guard said nothing.
The silence was worse than an answer.It was confirmation.
It only got worse from there.
The breakfast room—empty. A message from the staff: The Chairman is at headquarters.Her requests for conversation—ignored.Her demands—stonewalled.Her attempts to leave the wing—gently but firmly blocked.
It felt like the house was pushing her inward, compressing her, reducing her movements until she felt like a bird trapped under a glass dome.
Her mind spun faster than her steps.
Why is he avoiding me?What did the psychologist tell him?Does he hate me more now?Is he preparing to get rid of me after all?
Her breathing turned shallow.
But the guards did not move. The walls did not shift. The world stayed exactly the same while she unraveled.
At the same hour, across the city, Adrian received the morning update on her psychological state.
It came through a tablet—clean, clinical, free of emotional language. Just bullet points.
• Early morning agitation upon discovering increased security• Elevated heart rate• Repeated insistence on seeing the Chairman• Escalating anxiety• Dr. Marwick notified
Adrian let the screen dim without reacting. His face remained unreadable, even to himself. His hands didn't tremble. His eyes didn't flicker. But something deep beneath his ribs tightened, like a string being pulled just slightly too far.
He exhaled slowly.
"Maintain the distance protocol," he said.
The chief of staff nodded. "And if her distress worsens?"
Adrian stared out his office window—toward the invisible east wing of his estate, toward the woman desperately clinging to what he could never give her.
"Then increase the support systems," he said. "Not the access."
The staff bowed and left.
And Adrian returned to his work.He buried himself in it with almost supernatural focus, because work was the only thing that didn't break him. The only thing he couldn't lose. The only place where control held firm.
He didn't let himself picture her face.He didn't let himself imagine her voice.He didn't let himself think about the way she once smiled at him—back when he was a fool who lived for distractions.
And he did not let himself remember how close he had come to losing her entirely the night she tried to take her own life.
He simply worked, and worked, and worked—until even thoughts couldn't catch up to him.
Back in the mansion, Seraphina's panic had reached its peak.
She stormed through the east wing halls, barefoot, hair unbrushed, eyes blistering with fear. She hammered on the doors that wouldn't open. She cried out for staff who refused to break hierarchy. She pleaded, threatened, begged.
Adrian never appeared.
Instead, the guards moved like shadows, forming walls with their bodies. Subtle. Professional. Unyielding.
Finally, in a last burst of desperation, Seraphina sprinted down the corridor toward the main foyer, thinking if she could just get there, she could force the issue. She could demand, confront, insist he speak to her.
She almost reached the end when two guards gently but firmly crossed their arms in front of her.
"Madam," one said calmly, "you must return to your wing."
"No," she choked, voice cracking on the single word. "Please. Please, I have to—I need to see him. Just let me through. I'm his wife."
The guard's expression softened by a fraction, but his position didn't move.
"Your wellbeing depends on stability. Not conflict."
"He's avoiding me!" she screamed. "Why won't he just SAY it to my face?!"
Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor in a humiliating collapse.
In that moment, Dr. Marwick arrived.
She entered the hall like a quiet storm, moving with composed heaviness, her eyes taking in Seraphina's state with the practiced gaze of someone who has seen people break before.
"Seraphina," the doctor said softly, kneeling beside her. "Come with me."
Seraphina lifted her head, mascara blurred, cheeks blotched, breath stuttering.
"Why is he doing this to me?" she whispered. "Why won't he see me? Why is everything slipping away again?"
Dr. Marwick placed a gentle hand on her back.
"Let's talk in your room."
"No," Seraphina sobbed. "Not the room. Not that wing. I'm suffocating there. Just tell me why. Please. Tell me what I did."
The words shattered the doctor a little.
But she had a job. A cruel job. A necessary one.
"Seraphina," she said, choosing her words like stepping stones over a minefield, "you are in a fragile psychological state. Proximity to your husband right now increases volatility. Both for you—and for him."
Seraphina froze.
"What?" she whispered.
"It's not healthy for either of you to depend on each other for emotional stability."
"You mean he told you to say that," Seraphina spat, bitter and wounded.
Dr. Marwick did not confirm. Did not deny.
She only said, "What you're feeling is real. But you have to let me guide you through it."
Seraphina's lips quivered. "Does he hate me?"
"No."
"Is he disgusted by me?"
"No."
"Then why—WHY—won't he even look at me?"
Dr. Marwick closed her eyes.
Because he believes he is toxic.Because he believes he will destroy you.Because he is rotting behind his own ribs and refuses to let you touch the decay.
But the truth would only shatter her further.
Instead, she said, "You're not being punished. You're being stabilized."
"Stabilized," Seraphina echoed with an empty laugh. "That's what cages are for, aren't they?"
Dr. Marwick's silence was a quiet confirmation.
By late afternoon, Seraphina was calmer—only because exhaustion had hollowed her out. The guards maintained their distance. The staff kept their eyes lowered. She no longer tried to run; she simply sat at her window seat, staring at the driveway as if he might appear there by accident.
He never did.
And on the other side of the city, Adrian looked up from his eleventh meeting of the day, feeling a sudden pressure in his chest he couldn't quite explain.
He exhaled slowly.
"Send Dr. Marwick's evening report to my desk," he instructed.
Because no matter how far he forced the distance—
He could not stop needing to know if she was still alive inside it.