Chapter 4

The mansion’s grand foyer soon echoed with their footsteps, the air thick with unspoken tension. Natalie’s heart felt like it was going to claw itself out of her, her emotions raw and exposed. There was simply so much her chest was struggling to bear. As Marcus approached his car, already waiting for him, he swiftly turned to Natalie, and his cold gaze softened slightly in an attempt to comfort her.

“You’re in good hands, Natalie,” Marcus said, his voice firm yet trying to convey warmth. “There’s nothing to be too afraid of. Lars and I will make sure of that.”

Natalie nodded, trying to muster a grateful smile but feeling her lips quiver. “Thank you, Marcus,” she replied, her voice soft and strained, the gratitude mingled with lingering fear.

Marcus was still for a second, just observing her, then gave a curt nod before slipping into his car. As the engine roared to life and the car glided away, Natalie stood beside Lars, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders and the fear and uncertainty swirling within her. She glanced at him, who responded with a reassuring smile.

“You'll be okay,” he said, his tone filled with conviction.

She nodded again. “I trust you, Lars,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. Natalie’s heart was somewhat still heavy as they walked back into the mansion—the thoughts she had buried beneath were gnawing their way out. 

***

Natalie lay in the soft, massive bed in the suite Lars had given her, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. It was 11:30 in the evening, and the room was dimly lit by the moonlight. The room itself was as large as an average family house that could contain two more bedrooms, filled with pristine, detailed, and artistic decor. Every piece of furniture and every embellishment seemed carefully chosen for their elegance and class. The very cushions she was lying on, the comforter, and the blankets her hands were fondling felt so smooth and cold—the kind that she's never experienced before. Who would've thought she'd ever find herself hugging a pillow softer than cotton?

Natalie stood up and decided to roam the room. She walked over to the wardrobe and opened it. It was a walk-in closet, and a flick of a switch exposed her to an array of clothes inside. Each item looked fancy, expensive, and beautiful, with most of them coming from high-end brands that she could never afford in a thousand years. She ran her fingers along the delicate fabrics, feeling the kind of quality she had never encountered. Her hand stopped in front of a certain area, and she pulled a nightdress from it. It was a thin, silky gown that felt luxurious against her skin—laced and velvety.

She slipped it on and turned to look at herself in the massive mirror between all the clothes. The nightgown embraced the curves she had in a way that felt slightly surreal. The pale color of the dress contrasted beautifully with her fair skin, highlighting its creamy tone, where the silk shimmered softly under the light, adding an ethereal quality to her reflection. She barely recognized herself, standing there in such opulence, the nightgown transforming her into a vision of elegance and grace.

Her stomach then rumbled, snapping her from her trance and reminding her that she hadn't eaten dinner. The stress and anxiety of the day had ruined her initial appetite, but now hunger gnawed at her in a way she couldn’t ignore. Lars had left earlier this evening to yet again tend to a business matter. He had not been there to keep her on her feet and remind her to eat. Natalie rolled her eyes at herself in the reflection and left the room, deciding to wander down the silent, dimly lit corridors of the mansion. The hallways were just as grand as she first saw them, adorned with expensive artwork and intricate tapestries. The walls were a deep, rich mahogany, lined with gold trimmings, and adorned with paintings that seemed to come to life under the soft lighting. 

Each painting was a masterpiece. There were landscapes that showcased the wild beauty there is in nature, portraits of people she bet were historical that had eyes that seemed to follow her as she walked, and abstract pieces that looked like their disorganization was deliberate, colorful, and emotional. Every corner of the mansion spoke of wealth and taste. Marble statues stood gracefully in alcoves where, below them, the carpet was thick and plush, muffling her footsteps. She felt like she was in a museum. As Natalie continued on, she couldn't shake the feeling of being enveloped in a sort of twilight. The entire house seemed to always be dimly lit, casting everything in a soft, ethereal glow. Even now, in the dead of night, the only sources of light were the gentle moonbeams filtering in through the tall windows and the flickering candles that lined the walls.

She made her way towards the dining room, where she stepped through the tall, double doors, which made her feel like she had been transported straight out of a royal castle. The sheer scale of the dining room was breathtaking—vast and cavernous, with a vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch endlessly above her. The centerpiece was a long, elaborately carved wooden table that could easily seat two hundred guests—chairs designed with velvet cushions.

Above the table hung a series of chandeliers, their crystals catching the flickering candlelight. They looked like constellations suspended in the night sky, their light creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Natalie walked slowly along the edge of the table, her fingers brushing lightly over the polished surface. She marveled at the attention to detail, from the ornate carvings on the table legs to the delicate patterns woven into the tablecloth.

As she approached the far end of the dining room, she noticed the large doors that led into the kitchen. Steeling herself for what lay beyond, she pushed them open and stepped inside. The kitchen was like a scene from a fairy tale; its rustic charm was a striking contrast to the regal elegance of the dining room.

The walls were lined with rough, red bricks, giving the space a cozy, timeless feel. Large wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and the floors were made of weathered stone tiles that added to the old-world design. Despite the kitchen’s archaic style, it was impeccably clean and well-organized, with pots and pans hanging from hooks and utensils gleaming in the candlelight.

A massive chimney dominated one wall, its mantle adorned with copper pots and a collection of spice jars. The smell of herbs and wood smoke still lingered in the air. The refrigerator was tucked into a nook between the brick walls. Its modern design stood out starkly against the rustic essence of everything. She opened it, and each dish looked like it belonged on the menu of a five-star restaurant. There were delicate pastries, rich stews, fresh salads, and an assortment of gourmet cheeses. She settled on what looked like a square pizza, and next to it was a bottle of red wine which she poured herself a generous amount.