The car ride was silent.
Not the peaceful kind—
the suffocating kind.
Elora leaned against the window, watching the city lights blur past as her heartbeat slowly steadied. Adam sat beside her, stiff, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead like he was afraid that if he looked at her, something irreversible would happen.
Brian didn't dare speak.
He had seen Adam angry before—furious even—but this was different. This was the kind of anger that came from fear, from loss of control, from emotions Adam had buried for years clawing their way back to the surface.
When the plane landed in Spain hours later, Elora was exhausted but wide awake inside. Adam had not said a single word to her since the car.
Not one.
And somehow, that hurt more than his shouting ever could.
THE MANSION
The car stopped in front of towering iron gates.
Elora lifted her head.
Her breath caught.
Beyond the gates stood a massive estate, lights glowing warmly against stone walls, the kind of place she had only ever seen in movies. The gates slowly opened, revealing a long driveway lined with trees and fountains.
"So… this is where you live?" she asked softly.
Adam didn't answer.
The car stopped, and before she could process anything further, the doors opened. Staff members stood in neat lines, bowing respectfully as Adam stepped out.
"Ma'm Elora," Brian said gently, helping her down. "Welcome."
She felt out of place immediately—barefoot, still wearing the clothes from the beach, her hair slightly messy from the wind.
An older woman stepped forward, her posture straight, her gaze sharp but kind.
"I am Lyra," she said. "The head maid."
Elora smiled politely. "Nice to meet you."
Lyra studied her for a brief moment—then nodded with respect.
"Prepare the guest room," Adam said coolly. "The one on the east wing."
Lyra paused. "Of course."
Elora frowned slightly.
Guest room?
Before she could ask, Adam had already turned away, walking inside without another glance.
The mansion was quiet.
Too quiet.
Elora followed Lyra through endless halls, her footsteps echoing softly against marble floors.
"This place is huge," she muttered.
"Yes," Lyra replied. "But it can feel lonely if one does not belong."
That sentence lingered with Elora long after Lyra left her alone in the room.
The bedroom was larger than her entire apartment back at school. Tall windows, soft lighting, a bed that looked untouched.
She sat on the edge of it, suddenly overwhelmed.
He brought me here… and now he's ignoring me.
Her chest tightened.
Adam came down for dinner alone.
When Lyra informed him Elora refused to eat, he only nodded once.
"I'll take it to her."
Lyra hesitated. "Sir—"
"I said I will."
Adam climbed the stairs slowly, a plate of food in his hands, irritation and restraint battling inside him.
He knocked once.
No answer.
Again.
Still nothing.
He opened the door.
Elora stood there, hair damp, wrapped in a towel, clearly just stepping out of the bathroom.
They froze.
Adam's grip tightened on the plate.
For a brief second, he forgot how to breathe.
"I—" she started.
"Eat," he said sharply, setting the plate down without meeting her eyes. "You skipped dinner."
"I'm not hungry."
"You have to eat."
She looked up at him then, really looked at him.
"Why do you care?" she asked quietly. "You didn't care enough to come to my graduation."
The words landed harder than any slap.
Adam's voice lowered. "Don't test me."
Elora stepped closer, her voice soft but dangerous. "Why were you so angry tonight? Why did you look like you wanted to kill Mike?"
Adam's hands clenched.
"You don't understand," he said.
"Then explain."
Silence.
Finally, he turned away.
"You're my responsibility," he said coldly. "That's all."
Her smile faded.
"Then stop acting like you're jealous."
Adam spun around so fast it startled her.
"I am not jealous."
She tilted her head. "Then why did you drag me away?"
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"Because you belong here."
The air between them snapped tight.
The next few days were torture.
Adam avoided her.
He left early. Came back late.
Elora wandered the mansion like a ghost, surrounded by luxury she didn't ask for, guarded by staff who followed Adam's strict orders.
She wasn't allowed out alone.
She wasn't allowed visitors.
When she confronted him, he only said, "For your safety."
She laughed bitterly. "Or for your control?"
That night, she overheard Brian speaking in Adam's study.
"…the engagement arrangements with Sophia are moving forward smoothly."
Elora's chest felt hollow.
So it was true.
He was really going to marry her.
She didn't wait to hear more.
She packed a bag and left.
Elora stayed with Selina, who had come to Spain with Daniel.
"You can't keep letting him control you," Selina said angrily. "That's not protection. That's obsession."
Elora said nothing.
Because deep down, she knew.
When Elora returned days later, Adam barely acknowledged her.
So she dressed up.
Short dress. Confident steps.
"I'm going out," she said casually.
Adam looked up slowly.
"Dressed like that?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
She smiled. "None of your business."
He followed her.
From the shadows of the club, Adam watched men approach her, watched her laugh, watched someone place a hand on her waist.
Something inside him snapped.
He stormed forward, grabbing her arm.
"You're coming with me."
"Let go!" she shouted.
His voice shook. "How can you do this?"
She met his gaze, defiant.
"I'm not yours."
But they both knew she was lying.