PART 2
My father did not ask me why.
He did not ask what Julian had done, how long I had endured it, or why I had stayed silent for three years.
Arthur Vance simply said, “Stay where you are.”
Then the call ended.
For a long moment, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the black screen of my phone. The room around me felt unfamiliar, though I had lived in that mansion for three years. The silk curtains, the polished furniture, the framed wedding portrait on the wall—none of it belonged to me. Not truly.
I had spent years pretending this house was a home.
Now, for the first time, I saw it clearly.
It was a beautiful cage.
My reflection in the mirror looked pale beneath the soft bedroom light. The navy gown, once elegant, now looked like proof of everything I had allowed myself to become. Quiet. Convenient. Invisible.
