Chapter 5

“I need to talk to Marcule Hales right now! You have to let me in!” Dante said urgently, standing outside the grand Voss mansion. He directed his demand toward Melita, the head maid and caretaker for Sarah.

On the other side of the door, Melita hesitated, feeling unsure about whether to allow him entry.

“Sir, I’ve already told you that Mr. Hales is not available at the moment. Why aren't you listening?” she replied, her voice tinged with frustration.

She couldn’t help but wonder what was driving Dante to be so insistent that he wouldn’t simply leave and come back to see Marcule later.

“Then please just let me in. If Marcule isn’t home, I would like to speak with Emy,” he pressed on, his tone unwavering.

Melita let out a tired sigh. “I’ve already explained that she isn’t here either. They’re both out right now. I haven’t seen Emilia for days.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Dante insisted, his urgency growing. “She’s impossible to reach, and she hasn’t shown up for work in days. That’s why it’s important for you to let me in. I understand that Marcule isn’t home and you’re just doing your job to keep Mrs. Voss safe, but all I’m asking is for you to let me in so I can wait for Marcule to return. He wouldn’t let me in even if he were here right now, so please, Melita!”

“What the hell is going on here?” a voice called out from behind Dante. Just as he thought, it was Marcule. He shot Dante a disapproving glare, clearly not happy to see him standing there.

“Why are you causing such a scene in front of my house?” Marcule demanded, his irritation evident.

“We need to talk,” Dante replied, trying to keep his tone steady.

“I don’t have anything to say to you. Now get the hell out of here,” Marcule said, brushing past him and making his way toward the entrance of the house. But Dante quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“What have you done to Emilia? Where is she?” Dante pressed, his voice filled with concern.

Marcule's expression was harsh. “You’re making all this ruckus for her? She’s fucking married, so just move on with your life, you idiot!”

“What?” Dante said, taken aback by the revelation. Suddenly, he remembered the fancy cars he had seen parked in the driveway when he dropped Emilia off just a few days ago.

“Did… did you marry her off? For money?” he asked, disbelief creeping into his voice.

Marcule’s eyes widened as he quickly looked around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. Without another word, he grabbed Dante and pulled him inside, urgency in his movements.

“Don’t you dare talk about this outside again,” Marcule warned as soon as they were inside, his voice low and threatening.

Dante was in disbelief at the situation unfolding before him. He scoffed in frustration, and in a split second, he grabbed Marcule by the collar, his hands tightening around him as he began to choke him.

Melita, witnessing the chaos, gasped in shock and quickly scurried away, not wanting to get caught up in the confrontation.

“How could you do something like this to the daughter of the woman you claim to love? How could you even think of it?” Dante shouted, his rage boiling over as he tightened his grip even more.

“I didn’t force her! I proposed, and she agreed, so let go of me!” Marcule gasped, struggling to get the words out.

She agreed? That thought hit Dante like a punch to the gut. He released Marcule immediately, his mind racing as he processed what he had just learned. She had willingly agreed to be married off for money?

Marcule collapsed onto the floor, coughing and gasping for air, clearly taken aback by Dante's strength. He had definitely underestimated him until this moment. How was Dante so strong?

“Who? Who is she married to?” Dante demanded, his curiosity piqued despite the anger still coursing through him.

“The Blackwoods. She’s married to Damon Blackwood himself,” Marcule replied, still trying to catch his breath.

Dante's expression instantly shifted to one of shock and horror at the mention of Damon’s name. He turned away from Marcule, scanning the room around him, though he wasn’t really looking for anything specific. He was struggling to keep his anger in check, and it was evident on his face.

“Are you really this clueless? Or are you actually aware of what you’ve done? Do you have any idea whose hands you’ve put your daughter in?” Dante asked through clenched teeth, finally meeting Marcule’s gaze again.

“The money is for Sarah’s treatment abroad. We didn’t have any other option, so stop feeling sorry for yourself. Like I said, Dante, just move on,” Marcule replied, trying to sound dismissive.

“How much do you need?” Dante interrupted, his voice steady but urgent.

Marcule’s eyes widened slightly as he processed Dante’s words.

“How much do you need for the treatment? I’ll get it to you as soon as you fix this mess you've created and bring Emilia back,” Dante insisted, his determination clear.

Is he really being serious? Marcule fought back a laugh that was bubbling up inside him and nodded in approval at Dante’s offer. What a joke for him to think it possible to get Emilia back from Damon.

“But you’ll have to bring the money first. After that, I will ensure Emilia comes home,” Marcule said, his tone firm.

“Deal.”

—-------------

It's been a week since Emilia moved into the Blackwoods mansion. And a week since her unsettling encounter with Damon regarding the seal, and since that moment, she hasn’t laid eyes on him again.

Her assistant, who was supposed to be at her every beck and call, was literally a ghost. The only way she has been able to communicate with them is through a telephone.

She would call to request what she needed, and everything would be brought to her door. She didn't have a clue what they looked like.

For an entire week, she has been trapped in isolation, hidden away in the dark shadows of the mansion. It has been hell for her.

Emilia was completely without any of her belongings—no phone, no money, no identification, nothing at all. Each day, she received a new dress, a fresh set of makeup, and a meal delivered right to her door, along with a letter that carried different words but always conveyed the same message: dress up and eat well.

At times, she would hear cries echoing through the halls, and at other moments, the faint sounds of children laughing would reach her ears.

These noises terrified her to her core, so she often chose to remain in her room, avoiding any exploration of the mansion and its many rooms.

Emilia could sense herself beginning to fade away, so she tried to request a visit to a psychiatrist. However, her assistant always replied with the same frustrating response: “Mr. Blackwood does not agree that you be taken to a psychiatrist.”

In her desperation, she asked for a journal and a pen instead, and to her surprise, she was granted that request.

She began to write down her thoughts, expressing her feelings about the dresses she received, which were really not her style at all. She noted how she was never given the food she actually wanted to eat and how she felt utterly abandoned by everyone around her. She also documented the strange sounds that echoed through the mansion and how terrified they made her feel.

But today, her frustration reached a boiling point. She couldn't help but wonder why Damon had forced her into this kind of marriage when he barely acted like a husband.

Why had he confined her here, as if she had ever wanted this marriage in the first place? Why had he taken her freedom away from her?

The anger she felt was like molten lava building up inside her, ready to erupt at any moment.

At the end of her journal entry for the day, she wrote a fierce declaration: “I swear, the next time I see him, I will kill him.”

And she meant it.