Chapter 8 - A New Kind of Prison

Chapter 8 - A New Kind of Prison

The silence in the dining hall felt heavier now that I was alone. The scent of expensive food lingered in the air, but I couldn’t bring myself to take another bite. My stomach twisted—not with hunger, but with unease.

What did Alexander mean when he said I would need my strength? What else did he have planned for me?

A part of me wanted to believe that he was just trying to scare me, but after everything, I knew better.

I sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the untouched food in front of me. My mind kept going back to his words, to the way he spoke so calmly about making me disappear, as if it was nothing. As if I was nothing.

My hands curled into fists on my lap.

I was done feeling like nothing.

Before I could let my thoughts spiral any further, the door creaked open again. I tensed, expecting to see Damien or, worse, Alexander himself.

Instead, a young woman entered.

She was around my age, maybe a little older. Dressed in a simple black dress, her brown hair was neatly tied back, and she carried herself with quiet confidence. But there was something in her eyes—something cautious, almost guarded.

She didn’t meet my gaze as she approached, setting a folded set of clothes on the table beside me.

“You should change,” she said softly. “The boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

I frowned. “Waiting for what?”

She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the fabric. “I don’t know.”

I wasn’t sure if she was lying or if she genuinely had no idea, but either way, I could tell she wasn’t going to say more.

I glanced down at the clothes. A simple blouse and pants. Nothing fancy, but definitely better than the thin nightgown I had been forced to wear since arriving here.

I swallowed my pride and reached for them. “Thank you,” I murmured.

The girl nodded but didn’t say anything else. She turned to leave, pausing briefly at the door. “Be careful,” she said quietly. Then, she was gone.

Be careful.

That was never a good sign.

I changed quickly, relieved to finally wear something that gave me at least a little sense of normalcy. The fabric was soft, fitting me perfectly—almost like it had been tailored for me. The realization sent another shiver down my spine.

How long had they been planning to keep me here?

Before I could dwell on it, the door opened again.

Damien.

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “Ready?”

“Like I have a choice,” I muttered.

He smirked. “You’re catching on.”

I shot him a glare but followed him out of the room anyway.

The hallways were just as grand as before, lined with expensive paintings and antique furniture. Everything about this place screamed wealth and power, yet it felt suffocating—like a prison disguised as a palace.

We walked in silence until we reached a door at the far end of the hall. Damien pushed it open without hesitation, stepping aside to let me enter first.

I hesitated for only a second before walking inside.

The room was massive, lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound books. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

And in the center of it all, sitting behind a grand wooden desk, was Alexander.

He looked up as I entered, his piercing gaze locking onto mine immediately.

“Sit,” he ordered.

I bit back a sigh and did as I was told, lowering myself into the chair across from him.

He studied me for a moment before leaning back slightly. “Tell me, Evelyn. Do you read?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Do you read?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” He gestured toward the bookshelves. “Pick one.”

I frowned. “Why?”

He raised a brow. “Because I told you to.”

I clenched my jaw but stood up anyway, walking toward the shelves. My fingers hovered over the spines of the books, some of them old and worn, others looking untouched.

I had no idea what he was trying to do. Was this another test? Another way to mess with me?

After a moment, I grabbed a book at random and turned back to him.

He gestured for me to sit again, so I did, holding the book tightly in my hands.

“Read,” he said simply.

I stared at him. “What?”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Read to me.”

My stomach twisted with unease. This was definitely a game. Another way to show me that he controlled everything—even the words that came out of my mouth.

I wanted to refuse.

But I also knew what happened when I pushed too hard.

So I swallowed my pride, opened the book, and started reading.

My voice was steady, even as my heart pounded in my chest. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but Alexander simply listened, his expression unreadable.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer.

Then, finally, he leaned back in his chair. “That’s enough.”

I snapped the book shut, exhaling slowly.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then he spoke again.

“You’ll be working here from now on.”

I froze. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Every day, you’ll report here. You’ll read, you’ll write, and you’ll learn.”

My hands tightened around the book. “Learn what?”

He smirked. “Everything I want you to know.”

A chill ran down my spine.

I had a feeling this was only the beginning.

-----

I gripped the book tightly, my heart pounding in my chest.

Learn?

What the hell did he mean by that?

I stared at Alexander, searching his face for some kind of clue, but he just sat there, watching me like I was a puzzle he was slowly putting together piece by piece. His patience, his control—it was terrifying. Like he knew exactly how this was going to play out, and I was the only one left in the dark.

I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Why would you want me to learn anything?”

His lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Because knowledge is power, Evelyn. And right now, you have none.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, so confident—made my skin crawl. Because he was right.

I had nothing.

No control. No freedom. No way out.

And he knew it.

I looked down at the book in my hands. The pages felt rough under my fingers, the scent of old paper filling my nose. I could feel Damien still standing near the door, his presence like a shadow looming over me, a silent reminder that I wasn’t truly alone. That I was being watched.

I swallowed hard. “And what if I don’t want to learn?”

Alexander leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the polished wood of his desk. “Then you’ll remain exactly as you are. Helpless. Weak. At the mercy of others.”

My jaw clenched.

He wasn’t just talking about himself. He was talking about them. My family. The people who had treated me like nothing, who had hurt me in ways I couldn’t even put into words.

The worst part?

He wasn’t wrong.

I had spent my entire life being controlled, used, thrown aside like I didn’t matter. And now, here I was again, sitting in front of another man who thought he had the right to decide my fate.

But was this different?

Was he different?

I hated that I didn’t know the answer.

My fingers curled around the edges of the book, the weight of it grounding me. I had spent so long being trapped in a world where I had no choices, where everything was decided for me.

And maybe this wasn’t freedom.

But maybe it was something.

I lifted my gaze, meeting his cold, unreadable eyes. “Fine,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll learn.”

His smirk deepened, just slightly. “Good.”

The tension in the room shifted. I could feel Damien watching, but he said nothing. Just stood there like a silent soldier, waiting for his next order.

Alexander pushed back from his desk and stood, moving toward one of the tall bookshelves. His movements were precise, controlled, like he had done this a thousand times before. He ran his fingers along the spines of the books before pulling one free and turning back to me.

He set it down in front of me.

“Start with this,” he said.

I looked down at the book. The cover was worn, the title barely visible. It wasn’t something I recognized.

“What is it?” I asked.

His expression remained unreadable. “A story about survival.”

Something in the way he said it sent a chill through me.

I reached out, running my fingers over the old leather cover before slowly opening it. The pages were filled with neat, carefully printed words, but I could already tell—this wasn’t just a story.

It was a lesson.

A warning.

And maybe, just maybe, a test.

I swallowed hard, glancing up at him one last time before lowering my eyes to the first page.

And then, I started to read.

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