Page 33 of Unveiled

I stare at his retreating back before I somehow make it up to my room.

Semyon is so cold, so detached—like a machine, ruthless and efficient—but today, he brought my little brother home. He carried Stefan into this house like he was something precious. That’s not something I can forget.

Earlier, when I first walked into this room, I hadn’t even looked around. Now, as I stand here trembling, I force myself to take in every detail.

He’s coming back for me.

I can barely begin to process everything that’s happened in the last few hours. It’s all too much, too fast, and every time I try to piece together my fears of what happens next, my thoughts dissolve into chaos.

The room itself is larger than anything I could have imagined. It’s more lavish than I expected too. A massive king-sized bed dominates the center, draped with a heavy ivory duvet, soft and inviting. Ample pillows are propped neatly against the headboard, and the room is accented in polishedsilver and glints of warm gold. Somehow, it feels simultaneously impersonal and beautiful.

I expected a prisoner’s confines. But this? This is anything but.

In the corner stands a large white desk, solid and heavy, paired with a sleek standing lamp. On its surface, brand-new accessories are arranged in perfect order—pens, pencils, even a tape dispenser and scissors. My bag sits empty beside a closet door, an incongruous reminder of home.

Tentatively, I walk over and push the door to the closet open. My breath catches.

The closet is enormous, a walk-in space larger than Stefan’s entire room back home. Shelves line the walls, displaying rows of shoes so pristine they look like works of art. Heels, boots, flats, all arranged by style and color—black, nude, and red blending into softer pastels and bolder choices. Dresses and skirts hang neatly beside sweaters and coats, all perfectly organized. Everything is new, modern, expensive… and my size.

They all sit beside my mother’s clothes, in such stark contrast it makes my nose tingle.

The two pairs of worn shoes and the few faded garments I’d packed sit awkwardly on a shelf. My cheeks burn at the sight of them. They don’t belong here. They’re relics of a simpler, poorer life, a life that feels a million miles away now.

I slam the light switch off and turn my back to it all. If he thinks he can buy my affection…

No. He won’t win.

But he said he doesn’t want my love. He doesn’t care for my attention. So what is this game he’s playing? I won’t forgive him for what he’s done.

And yet… it’s getting harder to hold on to my anger.

I take a deep breath, willing the rising tide of confusion to settle. Stefan is asleep, safe down the hall in another room. I can almost picture Semyon laying him down. He wouldn’t have left the coverlet on to get dirty—he’d have removed Stefan’s shoes first, then tucked him in neatly.

Would he? Does he have that kind of softness in him?

Panic grips my chest. Is my brother really safe here?

I shake the thought away and move to the door, trying the handle. It doesn’t budge.

Locked.

Oh god.

I whir around, scanning the windows for the first time. They’re locked, too, with heavy steel bars framing every pane. He doesn’t trust me not to run. And why would he? I already proved I would at the first opportunity.

My phone buzzes on the desk, a text lighting up the screen. It’s Ophelia.

Ophelia

Are you all right?

I grab the phone but hesitate. Semyon’s cold words echo inmy mind:You’re not allowed to contact my wife without my permission.

The sound of footsteps outside the door breaks my thoughts. My stomach drops, and I shake my head, denial flooding my mind.

What is he going to do to me?

I scramble, stripping off my wet dress and tossing his jacket onto the pile of discarded clothes. But then I pause, staring at the heap on the floor.

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