Page 52 of Inheritance
“What’s happening?” I asked. My voice cracked.
She didn’t answer.
I looked around the room. Dim lamp. Cold tile. A vanity. An armchair in the corner. Shelves with books and candles. A delicate curtain hung over the small window, filtering the moonlight into a soft blue. There was a standing mirror beside the wardrobe, its edges carved with flowers. The bed frame was dark wood, the blanket folded just so. Everything matched. Everything had been chosen for her.
This wasn’t a cell.
It was a bedroom. A beautiful one. Designed for comfort. For control.
For her.
I got as close to her as I could. My chain dragged behind me.
“Caroline,” I said again.
She lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were rimmed red. She looked… calm. Not shocked. Not scared. Just quiet.
“You bit him,” she murmured.
I blinked. “What?”
“Ivan,” she said softly. “You bit him.”
I stared at her. “That’s why this is happening? Because I fought back?”
She just looked at me. Her expression was unreadable.
“He’s only doing this because you hurt him. His men must have misunderstood and chained me up too.”
Are you serious?”
She shrugged, like it didn’t matter.
My stomach turned. “You’re still defending him.”
“No one is perfect. He has good in him.”
“He chained you up. You’re literally—” I gestured to her wrists, the metal digging into her skin. “—right now, you’re chained up, Caroline.”
“His men misinterpreted his order.” Her lip puckered out like it was some harmless puppy she was defending.
“How would you even know that? What was the point of him having his men move me in here?”
She didn’t answer.
“You think this is love? He’s a fucking monster.”
She shot her arms sideways, palms up, wide eyes, her chain clattering against the tiles.
“He’s not a monster!”
I let out a breath and leaned against the wall. “You need help.”
“No,” she said, quietly but firm. “You do.”
I didn’t respond right away. I didn’t know how.
She wiped at her eyes. “It’s not what you think. You only see him for what he has to do and be—I see who?—”
