The ride from the hospital was silent. Elena sat frozen in the passenger seat of the sleek black car, her hands knotted in her lap, the seatbelt pressing against her shoulder like a physical restraint. Outside the window, the city lights blurred into long streaks of gold and white, completely detached from the cold terror growing inside her chest.
Her body still ached from the accident, each bump in the road a cruel reminder of her plunge off the cliff. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the horror of her reality: the man driving beside her truly believed she was someone else.
Sarah. His wife.
Elena stole a breathless glance at him. Luca drove with a terrifying calmness, his sharp profile catching the soft, rhythmic glow of the passing streetlights. There was no denying his dark handsomeness, but beneath the composure lurked something frozen and lethal. The memory of his whispered threat at the hospital echoed in her mind. If you run away again... I will lock you up.
Her fingers curled tighter against her skirt. She didn't know what would happen if he discovered the truth — that she wasn't Sarah, but Elena, the broken girl whose life had been dismantled just hours ago by her own flesh and blood.
The car slowed, and Elena looked up as it rolled toward a massive iron gate. Two towering stone pillars framed the entrance, and with a low mechanical hum, the barriers parted. Beyond the gates stretched an endless driveway lined with manicured hedges, culminating in a sprawling villa that looked more like a fortress than a home. Warm floodlights illuminated the marble exterior, reflecting off a grand fountain in the circular driveway.
When the car finally stopped, the front doors of the mansion swung open. A line of servants stood in rigid formation. The moment Luca stepped out, they bowed in unison.
"Welcome home, sir."
Luca didn't acknowledge them. He walked around the hood with slow, deliberate steps and pulled Elena's door open. She hesitated, but his gaze pinned her to the seat.
"Come."
His voice was soft, but it carried the weight of a command.
As Elena stepped onto the pavement, her weak legs betrayed her. The ground tilted. Before she could fall, Luca's hand snapped around her arm. His grip was firm, possessive, and unexpectedly careful. For a fraction of a second, the warmth of his touch made her stiffen, but his eyes offered no comfort.
"Walk," he murmured quietly.
Inside, the grand entrance hall took her breath away. Crystal chandeliers hung from the soaring ceiling, casting a golden glow across the polished marble floor. High-end artwork and towering floral arrangements lined the walls. Elena felt only a tight, clawing panic in her lungs. She didn't belong here.
Luca stopped abruptly in the center of the hall, his entire demeanor shifting. The quiet man from the car vanished, replaced by a cold, imposing lord. The servants straightened, their heads bowed low.
"Listen carefully." His voice dropped to a register that sent a chill down Elena's spine. He placed a heavy hand on her trembling shoulder. "This is Madam."
"Good evening, Madam," the maids chimed in unison.
Hearing the title made Elena's stomach twist into knots. Luca's eyes darkened, the air in the room turning hostile. "From now on, none of you will leave her side. If she walks somewhere, you follow. If she enters a room, someone waits outside." A pause. "And if she runs away again, every one of you will be dead."
A deathly stillness gripped the hall. The maids bowed even deeper, their faces pale. "Yes, sir!"
Elena shivered. The casual certainty in his tone left no room for doubt.
"Come with me," Luca said, turning back to her as if he hadn't just threatened a mass execution.
She followed him up the sweeping staircase, her mind spinning. I have to leave. I have to run. But with a house full of eyes watching her every breath, escape felt like an impossible dream.
Luca stopped before a heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor and swung it open. "This is our room."
Elena froze. Before she could even process what that meant, the lingering fog of the poison and the trauma of the crash caught up to her all at once. The room blurred into streaks of light, and her knees buckled.
Without a word, Luca caught her, lifting her into his arms. Elena stiffened against his chest, hyper-aware of his strength as he carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently onto the bed. The mattress sank softly beneath her.
For a lingering moment, Luca simply stood over her, his expression unreadable. He walked to a silver tray, poured a glass of water, and returned to the bedside, holding it out to her.
"Drink."
His tone was quieter now. Elena hesitated — some instinct made her give the smallest shake of her head before she took the crystal glass anyway. The cool liquid soothed her throat, and Luca watched her every swallow with an intense, unwavering focus. When she finished, he took the empty glass from her hand.
"You need rest," he murmured.
Elena stared up at him in confusion. This man terrified her, yet his movements as he pulled the heavy silk blanket over her were careful, deliberate.
"Sleep," Luca said quietly, his eyes locking onto hers. "You're still weak."
For a moment her free hand twitched upward, some old instinct wanting to sign a word she had no name for yet — then she stopped herself. He wasn't expecting Sarah to sign. He wasn't expecting anything from Sarah's hands at all.
Her eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion finally dragging her under. Before the darkness consumed her vision, she noticed that Luca hadn't moved. He remained seated beside the bed, watching her sleep.
As the city outside stayed silent, Elena let go, slipping into a deep, helpless slumber, unaware of the nightmare she would have to survive when the morning light returned.