Aurora’s heart pounded violently as Grayson’s words echoed in her head.
"Tonight, you’re mine." His gray eyes burned into hers—cold, unwavering, yet consuming. She took a shaky step back, fear coiling deep in her gut. What awaited her? Her mind raced for an escape, but the sheer presence of him, the way he loomed over her with absolute command, held her rooted in place. His touch still lingered on her wrist, a chilling reminder that she was no longer free. “W–What do you mean by that?” her voice barely above a whisper. Grayson tilted his head slightly, studying her like a puzzle he had already solved. “Exactly what I said.” Aurora clenched her fists, pulse erratic. Why does everyone think they own her? “I am not some object you can claim,” she protested firmly. His smirk was slow, deliberate. “Yet here you are. In my home. Wearing my jacket. Breathing under my roof.” He stepped forward, his tall frame swallowing the space between them. “Tell me, Aurora. What does that make you?” Her breath hitched. A prisoner. A possession. A pawn in a game she didn’t understand. A shudder crept down her spine. Still, she squared her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Her innocent face was laced with defiance, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “I didn’t choose this!” Grayson watched her, and for a moment, amusement flickered in his eyes. He took his time, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt, exposing forearms corded with lean muscle. The simple action made Aurora’s stomach twist with unease. Then he reminded her, his voice unyielding. “I gave you a choice." Aurora swallowed hard. Both choices had led to the same place. Grayson’s lips twitched, something darker lurking beneath his amusement. Something almost… hungry. “You’d be surprised what people do when faced with survival,” he murmured. “Some beg. Some kneel. Some sell their souls just to live another day.” His hand moved suddenly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was featherlight, yet it sent a wave of tension down her spine. “But you… you didn’t beg.” She stilled, gazing at him with wide, wary eyes. “Instead, you looked me in the eye and said you’d go with me.” His voice dipped lower, almost a whisper, yet it carried a terrifying weight. “That’s why you intrigue me.” Aurora’s hands curled at her sides. "Are you expecting me to thank you?" Grayson chuckled, low and deep. “I never ask for gratitude.” His gaze flickered over her face, assessing, calculating. Then, just as quickly as he had invaded her space, he stepped back. “You must be exhausted.” His voice returned to its usual detached coldness. “Your room is upstairs. Third door on the right.” She blinked, taken aback. That was it? No threats? No cryptic warnings? She expected him to cage her, to push her deeper into this suffocating nightmare. Instead, he was letting her walk away. Grayson turned to the waiting butler. “Escort her.” The man gave a respectful nod and gestured toward the grand staircase. “This way, Miss Scott.” Aurora hesitated. Something about this felt… wrong. Her gaze flickered to Grayson, searching for the trick, the catch. Because there had to be one. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she mustered the courage to ask one last time. "How did you know me? How did you know my name?" The question had plagued her from the moment he spoke it. The way he arrived at the hotel, right when she needed saving-- it felt very timely. Too precise. Grayson didn’t answer. Instead, he turned away, crossing the room toward the bar at the far end. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, dismissing her as if she wasn’t the most important piece in whatever game he was playing. Aurora’s fingers trembled as she turned away, following the butler up the winding staircase. The deeper she walked into the mansion, the more suffocated she felt. The high ceilings. The dim golden lighting. The eerie silence that clung to the walls like a living thing. Everything about this place, about him, felt like a cage she would never escape. Aurora’s footsteps echoed softly against the marble floors as she followed the butler down the dimly lit hallway. The silence was so thick, so unnatural, that she swore she could hear her own heartbeat. The butler stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and opened it. Inside was a grand, modern-styled bedroom—luxurious, yet cold in its perfection. “You will find everything you need here, Miss Scott,” the butler said formally. “If you require anything, simply press the intercom.” Aurora nodded absently, barely hearing him. Hours ago, she had been nothing. A girl sold like property. Now, she was this. Whatever this was. As the butler left, closing the heavy doors behind him, Aurora exhaled sharply. She was alone. Finally. Her gaze flickered to the door. Was it locked? Cautiously, she padded across the room and twisted the handle. It turned easily. Her heart thudded. He hadn’t locked her in. Why? Why was he doing this? The way he spoke, the way he owned her—it was clear she was a prisoner in his fortress. Yet, the door was left open. A shiver ran down her spine as she slowly closed it again. It wasn’t a physical lock that kept her here. It was the cold, terrifying truth that no matter how much she wanted to run, there was nowhere left to go. ____ Meanwhile… Grayson stood in his study, staring at the city lights through the vast glass windows. The whiskey in his hand had long since lost its appeal. His mind was elsewhere. On her. Aurora Scott. He had planned this carefully. Every step. Every contingency. But she was nothing like he had expected. Innocent. Defiant. Fragile, yet unbreakable. He had seen it in her eyes tonight.. The way she hesitated when given freedom. She was already questioning everything. Already falling into his hands. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Good. The more she struggled, the deeper she would sink. He had given her a door that wasn’t locked. A taste of false freedom. Because the strongest cages weren’t made of steel. They were made of choices. And soon, Aurora would realize that every path led back to him.The morning of the next day.. Aurora sat behind the long and polished table. The breakfast spread before her untouched. Golden croissants, eggs cooked to perfection, a platter of sliced fruits, and a cup of hot milk sat neatly in front of her. Yet, she had no appetite. Her chest tightened with worry about her mother’s hospitalization. The deadline had come. If she could not pay the down payment this morning, the hospital would discharge her mother. She clutched the fabric of her dress under the table, gathering her courage before speaking. "I need to go to the hospital today." Across from her, Grayson continued scrolling through emails on his phone, seemingly unaffected by her words. Dressed in a crisp black shirt, his sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing strong forearms, he exuded effortless power. Even in silence, his presence dominated the room. Seconds passed before he finally set his phone down. His steel-gray eyes met hers— cold and piercing. "You cannot leave." Aurora
Grayson’s kiss was possessive. Almost hungry. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t smile. He didn’t laugh. His eyes were dark with something far more dangerous. Was it ownership? "I don’t like disobedience," he said quietly, his voice low and cold as ever. Aurora was breathless, her chest heaving. Thoughts tangled in her mind, incoherent and wild. He had kissed her. The sensation still lingered on her lips, burning, impossible to ignore. Her world had tilted, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to right itself again. He released her, straightening to his full height, his gaze lingering-- piercing, unable to decipher. And just like that, he turned and walked toward the door, as if nothing had happened. The soft click of the door shutting behind him left Aurora frozen in the silence, her lips still tingling from his kiss. She could still feel the weight of his gaze. Still taste the remnants of him on her lips. She should be angry. She should feel violated. But she didn’t. All
"WHO told you to go and work in the kitchen?"Grayson's voice cut through the air, sharp and absolute. His gray eyes bore into Aurora, pinning her in place.She swallowed, lowering her gaze. He was too handsome—and too intimidating to look at for long."No one," she murmured, her fingers nervously twisting together.A touch—light but firm, tipped her chin up. She flinched subconsciously.Grayson’s fingers held her still, forcing her to meet his eyes."Then what were you doing there?" His voice remained void of warmth.Aurora's breath faltered. Her lips parted, but the weight of his gaze left her struggling for words."I–I just wanted to…" she faltered, then forced herself to finish. "To make you a simple breakfast… as a token of gratitude for saving my mother."For a fraction of a second, something flickered behind his eyes—too quick to catch. Then, it was gone.He hadn’t expected that.She still saw it as a favor. She still thanked him, despite knowing she was nothing more than his c
Night had fallen over the estate.The mansion, always too silent, felt even colder without the usual clinking of silverware from the dining room. Grayson sat alone at the head of the long table. His posture remained proud, as always, but his eyes were distant, his jaw locked with quiet tension. The meal in front of him sat untouched. The wine in his glass reflected the dim chandelier overhead, swirling gently each time he shifted slightly in his seat.But his focus wasn’t on any of it.His gaze kept drifting toward the empty chair across from him.Aurora hadn’t come down for dinner.He told himself it didn’t matter. She was just a girl he had brought here—a piece of a much bigger plan. Her presence, or lack of it, shouldn't affect him.Yet it did.His knuckles tightened around the edge of the table, the quiet pressure revealing more than he would ever admit.“Shall I check on Miss Scott, sir?” Edith’s voice was soft,
Early the next morning…A dull throb pulsed at Aurora’s temples as she stirred awake. Her limbs felt heavy, as if she were wading through fog, and yet her head felt weightless—light in the most disorienting way.The soft glow of morning light spilled in through the sheer curtains. Everything felt unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. The fever was gone, leaving only the heaviness of deep exhaustion behind. She shifted slightly beneath the covers—and that was when she noticed it.The damp cloth resting on her forehead.The comforter, neatly tucked around her.And the faint, distinct scent of a man’s cologne.Her heart jumped. That scent… it was his.Memories stirred—hazy and fragmented. Warm hands. A low voice coaxing her to drink something bitter. The sound of her name spoken in a tone that almost felt… gentle.She blinked hard. No, it couldn’t be.Grayson Moore didn’t do tenderness.A soft knock broke the quiet. B
Grayson sat still in the quiet dining hall long after Aurora had left, his gaze fixed on the spot where she had disappeared. Her footsteps had been light, but he had noticed the stiffness in her posture—the way her shoulders had tensed ever so slightly, the way her back had straightened not out of pride, but pain.He should’ve looked away by now.But he didn’t.Something in the way she had reacted to his earlier words—it lingered. Unsettling. Not because she had snapped or shouted. She hadn’t even said much. But there had been that flicker in her eyes. A softness that had folded in on itself. Hurt. Quiet and unspoken.Was she… disappointed?He scoffed at the thought, leaning back in his chair as he brought the porcelain cup to his lips, though he didn’t drink. The warmth of the tea had long faded, much like the false sense of detachment he had tried to maintain.Aurora Scott, that fragile thing he had pulled out of the darkn
Aurora sat by the window, swathed in a thick shawl, her gaze lingering on the soft melancholy of autumn. Leaves danced on the breeze, golden and rusted, brushing across the ground like whispers. The air was crisp, and the late morning light streamed through the glass, soaking her pale skin in a fragile warmth. Her breakfast lay untouched on the tray beside her. She hadn’t had the appetite—not since last night. Her body still felt drained from the fever, her thoughts just as heavy.All night, she’d stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Grayson lingered in her mind like a shadow she couldn’t shake. The way his hand had touched her forehead—gentle, almost protective—felt at odds with everything else about him. His words had remained distant. Cold. Like a wall built from silence and steel. Nothing about him made sense.A sudden knock jolted her from the spiral of thoughts.Before she could speak, the heavy oak door creaked open.Grayson stepped
Aurora stepped into the hospital room, her chest tightening at the sight before her. Her mother lay still against the stark white sheets, a pale shadow of the vibrant woman she used to know. The rhythmic beep of the monitor was the only sound filling the room.“Mom…” Her voice wavered as she approached, her hand reaching out instinctively, craving reassurance.Maria’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, confusion clouded her gaze before a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Rory…”Aurora sat beside her, gently clasping her mother’s frail hand. There was warmth there, but it didn’t soothe the ache clawing at her heart. “Thank God you’re okay,” she whispered, her voice thick. “I was so scared…”Maria’s fingers barely curled around hers in return. “I waited for you,” she murmured. “Where have you been? You look… different.”Aurora froze. Different? She glanced down at herself—at the silk blouse, the subtle makeup, the po
The drive from Sunnydale to Harford City passed in a haze.Grayson sat silently in the back of his sleek black Rolls-Royce, eyes watching the scenery flash by, though he wasn’t really seeing any of it. The peaceful ocean views of Sunnydale slowly faded away, replaced by the towering skyline of Harford—buildings standing tall where there were once open skies and sea.His fingers tapped lightly against the soft leather seat. His mind wasn’t still. Last night had been a mess. He wasn’t the type to drink much, but last night he had gone too far. The thoughts he had tried to bury came clawing back the moment the alcohol hit his system. And Aurora—her presence in his life—was doing things to him he hadn’t expected. She made him restless. Unfocused. Vulnerable.Leaning back, he closed his eyes for a second. His body was heavy with exhaustion, and his stomach turned from the alcohol, but he kept himself steady. Showing weakness wasn't an option. Not for him.
Aurora didn’t move.She just sat there, her fingers clutching the fabric of her pajama top like she was trying to hold herself together. The room still smelled like him—strong, dark, and impossible to ignore. His scent lingered, but his words had been colder than anything she’d ever felt."Don’t mistake this for anything more than what it was."The way he said it, so flat and cold, kept replaying in her head. Her chest ached, even though she told herself it shouldn’t. She’d known what kind of man Grayson Moore was. He didn’t feel. He didn’t love. He didn’t care. But that didn’t stop her from hoping—just a little—that maybe it meant more.A shaky breath slipped out of her lips.She looked toward the door, half-expecting it to open again. Maybe he’d come back, say something that would take back the weight of those words. But the room stayed quiet. Painfully quiet.With a soft breath, she pulled the blanket up around her body and curled
Aurora’s breath trembled as Grayson’s hand cupped her gently, his palm warm against her skin. She froze for a second, heart racing, unsure of what to do or what this even meant—but her body answered for her. It leaned in, soft and uncertain, reacting to him in a way she didn’t understand.His thumb brushed over her sensitive peak, and she gasped softly, eyes fluttering shut. A quiet sound slipped past her lips—so soft it barely reached the air, yet loud enough to pull something deep from him.Grayson exhaled sharply, his breathing growing heavier as he stared at her flushed face. Her lips were parted, eyes half-lidded, her chest rising and falling beneath her pajama top. She looked like temptation, wrapped in innocence.But she didn’t move away.She let him touch her.And that broke something in him.His lips left hers, trailing down slowly. He kissed the line of her jaw, then lower—pressing his mouth to the side of her neck, just above her collarbone. She shivered under him, fingers
After their quiet lunch at a high-end restaurant, Grayson didn’t take her back to the estate. Instead, he drove toward the city, not saying a word. Aurora didn’t ask where they were going—she simply sat beside him, glancing at him now and then, watching the light catch on his sharp profile. He looked calm, but there was something in his silence that's hard to understand. When they pulled up in front of an amusement park, Aurora blinked in confusion. He parked the car and got out, walking around to open her door like it was nothing out of the ordinary. She hesitated, surprised, before stepping out. “You brought me here?” she asked softly, staring at the colorful lights in the distance. Grayson didn’t respond with words. He simply nodded once and started walking. The amusement park was filled with laughter, lights, and the sound of rides whirring in the background. Children ran past them with cotton candy in their hands, couples laughed hand in hand. It was the kind of place Au
Aurora stepped into the hospital room, her chest tightening at the sight before her. Her mother lay still against the stark white sheets, a pale shadow of the vibrant woman she used to know. The rhythmic beep of the monitor was the only sound filling the room.“Mom…” Her voice wavered as she approached, her hand reaching out instinctively, craving reassurance.Maria’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, confusion clouded her gaze before a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Rory…”Aurora sat beside her, gently clasping her mother’s frail hand. There was warmth there, but it didn’t soothe the ache clawing at her heart. “Thank God you’re okay,” she whispered, her voice thick. “I was so scared…”Maria’s fingers barely curled around hers in return. “I waited for you,” she murmured. “Where have you been? You look… different.”Aurora froze. Different? She glanced down at herself—at the silk blouse, the subtle makeup, the po
Aurora sat by the window, swathed in a thick shawl, her gaze lingering on the soft melancholy of autumn. Leaves danced on the breeze, golden and rusted, brushing across the ground like whispers. The air was crisp, and the late morning light streamed through the glass, soaking her pale skin in a fragile warmth. Her breakfast lay untouched on the tray beside her. She hadn’t had the appetite—not since last night. Her body still felt drained from the fever, her thoughts just as heavy.All night, she’d stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Grayson lingered in her mind like a shadow she couldn’t shake. The way his hand had touched her forehead—gentle, almost protective—felt at odds with everything else about him. His words had remained distant. Cold. Like a wall built from silence and steel. Nothing about him made sense.A sudden knock jolted her from the spiral of thoughts.Before she could speak, the heavy oak door creaked open.Grayson stepped
Grayson sat still in the quiet dining hall long after Aurora had left, his gaze fixed on the spot where she had disappeared. Her footsteps had been light, but he had noticed the stiffness in her posture—the way her shoulders had tensed ever so slightly, the way her back had straightened not out of pride, but pain.He should’ve looked away by now.But he didn’t.Something in the way she had reacted to his earlier words—it lingered. Unsettling. Not because she had snapped or shouted. She hadn’t even said much. But there had been that flicker in her eyes. A softness that had folded in on itself. Hurt. Quiet and unspoken.Was she… disappointed?He scoffed at the thought, leaning back in his chair as he brought the porcelain cup to his lips, though he didn’t drink. The warmth of the tea had long faded, much like the false sense of detachment he had tried to maintain.Aurora Scott, that fragile thing he had pulled out of the darkn
Early the next morning…A dull throb pulsed at Aurora’s temples as she stirred awake. Her limbs felt heavy, as if she were wading through fog, and yet her head felt weightless—light in the most disorienting way.The soft glow of morning light spilled in through the sheer curtains. Everything felt unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. The fever was gone, leaving only the heaviness of deep exhaustion behind. She shifted slightly beneath the covers—and that was when she noticed it.The damp cloth resting on her forehead.The comforter, neatly tucked around her.And the faint, distinct scent of a man’s cologne.Her heart jumped. That scent… it was his.Memories stirred—hazy and fragmented. Warm hands. A low voice coaxing her to drink something bitter. The sound of her name spoken in a tone that almost felt… gentle.She blinked hard. No, it couldn’t be.Grayson Moore didn’t do tenderness.A soft knock broke the quiet. B
Night had fallen over the estate.The mansion, always too silent, felt even colder without the usual clinking of silverware from the dining room. Grayson sat alone at the head of the long table. His posture remained proud, as always, but his eyes were distant, his jaw locked with quiet tension. The meal in front of him sat untouched. The wine in his glass reflected the dim chandelier overhead, swirling gently each time he shifted slightly in his seat.But his focus wasn’t on any of it.His gaze kept drifting toward the empty chair across from him.Aurora hadn’t come down for dinner.He told himself it didn’t matter. She was just a girl he had brought here—a piece of a much bigger plan. Her presence, or lack of it, shouldn't affect him.Yet it did.His knuckles tightened around the edge of the table, the quiet pressure revealing more than he would ever admit.“Shall I check on Miss Scott, sir?” Edith’s voice was soft,