Chapter 6: Victor’s Shadow

Amelia stared at the note in her hand. She kept wondering who this person was, and at the same time, there was a rise of unquenchable fear within her: “Trust no one.”

She stared at the rose lying innocently on her pillow, its pristine petals suddenly feeling like a mocking gesture. The shadows in the room felt thicker and louder, as though they were about to close in on her.

Who had left it? And why? She considered marching down to Lucien’s office to report, but changed her mind because to confront Lucien now meant exposing her fear and letting him know she was afraid. She didn't want to give him that thrill, not even for a second.

Instead, she slid the note into the drawer of her nightstand, locked it away alongside the uneasiness and fear creeping out of her chest. Sleep was hesitant, too hesitant to surface until midnight, and when it came, it was chaotic with nightmares of roses and shadows.

In the morning, there was quietness all around. Lucien had left early, as usual, which gave the mansion a strange stillness that made every sound feel amplified.

Amelia strolled into the sunroom with hopes that the tall light would loosen up some knots tied in her chest, which eventually took place within moments of stillness.

“Tea or coffee, Mrs. Voss?” Camille’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Neither,” Amelia said with a less sharp tone. Camille slightly raised her left brow, clearing her throat.

“Mr. Voss asked me to make sure you remain in the estate throughout today; he's also arranged additional security measures after yesterday’s incident.”

“Somehow I’m a prisoner now,” Amelia said sharply. The mention of the garden incident somehow put her on edge, making her feel a bit uncomfortable.

Camille’s face, steady without any reactions, said,

“You're safe, Mrs. Voss. There's a difference.” Amelia didn't respond this time; she turned back to face the gardens, feeling more like she was in a trap or cage than a place of peace.

Later that afternoon, Amelia couldn’t bear the deafening silence of the house any longer. She went outside toward the gardens.

The discomfort of yesterday still lingered, but the peace and fresh air of the garden were much better than the oppressive stillness of the mansion. She walked around a corner where the towering edges blocked her view of the mansion.

When she heard a voice right behind her, it was low, deliberate, and demanding at the same time.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Her heartbeat quickened, and she froze, she was not familiar with this voice.

Amelia turned to face the voice, and when she did, her heart raced even harder.

A man was standing a few feet away from her, tall and broad-shouldered, with a cold demeanor and calculating dark eyes, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit.

There was something about him that didn’t feel safe to her.

“I don't believe we've met,” he said, his voice smooth and laced with warmth.

“Do I know you?” Amelia demanded in a cutting and firm tone, despite the panic rising in her chest.

The man’s smirk widened. “Just someone looking out for your best interests.”

Before she could respond, another commanding voice cut through the tension.

“That's enough.” Lucien’s figure emerged from the shadows, fury burning in his eyes alongside tense shoulders. In a polite tone, the man said,

“Mr. Voss, we were just having a little chat.” He adjusted his necktie to mask the discomfort he felt. Lucien stepped between them.

“Leave,” he commanded, and the stranger mockingly raised his hand in surrender. “Always so territorial. I'll see you around, Mrs. Voss.”

Amelia faced Mr. Voss. “Who was that?” she demanded, fixing a strong gaze at him without flinching.

“Someone who doesn’t belong here,” Lucien said with a sharp tone while looking away from her. She walked to the side, trying to maintain her gaze.

“That's not a good enough answer,” she fired back.

“How did he even get in here? I thought you said this place was safe?”

“It is, Amelia,” Lucien said, this time his voice colder.

“And it'll be even more secure after today. You have my word.” He scratched his head a little and returned his hands to his pockets.

“I'm not okay with this answer, Lucien,” she snapped, with her arms wide open in the air, gesturing her frustration.

“Look, I really don't understand what's going on. First, it's Lila’s warning, now this. I need to know what's going on. Why are these people even targeting you?” she pointed at herself with a terrifying smirk and a lower pitch, “Targeting me?”

For a moment, Lucien’s mask slipped, his expression hardening. He lifted his hands off his pockets, avoiding her gaze, one hand on his waist and the other combing through his hair.

“Because they think you're my weakness.”

Amelia’s breath caught at the raw honesty in his words, and she struggled not to choke, but she pushed forward.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Whatever it takes,” he said quietly, gazing at her.

“But I need you to trust me.”

She folded her arms, placing them between her chest and stomach.

“How do you expect me to trust you when you're hiding every necessary piece of information from me?” Lucien stepped closer, close enough to steal her breath.

“Because I'm the only one who can keep you safe.”

That night, Amelia couldn’t shake the lingering unease. The stranger’s smirk and Lucien’s cryptic words haunted her long after she returned to her room.

The note was still in the drawer, but its warning echoed in her mind: “Trust no one.” She was about to climb into her bed when she heard a faint creak, so soft she almost thought she imagined it.

Her heart began to pound swiftly as she turned toward the door, her breath catching when she saw the shadow beneath the frame.

Someone was there. “Lucien?” she called softly, her voice trembling. The shadow didn’t move.

Her heart sank like an axe falling uncontrollably into an ocean as she grabbed the nearest object she could place her hands on, a heavy lamp, and tiptoed toward the door, with the lamp held in the air ahead of her.

“Who’s there?” she demanded; though trembling, she maintained her composure. The door suddenly swung open, and Amelia gasped, her grip tightening on the lamp. Lucien stood in the doorway, his expression stormy.

“What are you doing?” he asked sharply, his eyes flicking to the lamp in her hands.

“I heard something,” she said, lowering the lamp but not loosening her grip entirely.

“There was someone outside my room.”

Lucien’s gaze darkened, and he stepped inside, scanning the room with a predatory focus. After a moment, he turned back to her, his jaw tight. “There’s no one here, Amelia,” he said. “But I'm sure I heard…”

“You’re safe,” he interrupted, his tone firm.

“But I’ll double the security on this wing.”

Amelia didn’t argue, but as Lucien left, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t telling her everything. When she turned back to the bed, her blood ran cold, her eyes widening alongside her mouth as she used her left hand to cover her mouth. The rose was gone.