A Home That Never Felt Like One

Evelyn’s POV

I should have felt relieved. The moment the kidnapper let me go, I should have been desperate to get home, to escape the nightmare I had just endured. But there was no relief. Just a numb weight settling in my chest, like a heavy stone pressing down on me.

My wrists still ached from the ropes that had bound them hours ago. I rubbed at the raw skin absently, staring down at my hands. They trembled slightly, though I wasn’t sure if it was from fear, exhaustion, or something else entirely.

I glanced at the man in the driver’s seat. His face remained unreadable as he steered the van through the empty streets.

"You okay?" his voice cut through the silence.

I hesitated.

Was I?

I lifted my iPad, my fingers moving over the screen. I don't know.

He let out a quiet breath, his hands tightening around the wheel. "Yeah. Figured."

Silence stretched between us again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy.

I let my head rest against the window, watching as the buildings passed by. My home was coming closer, but instead of feeling safe, a sick feeling settled in my stomach.

I wasn’t walking into a warm embrace.

I wasn’t going to be met with concern or relief.

Louis wouldn’t even care.

For five years, I had lived in that house, and not once had it felt like home.

The van slowed, pulling up a few feet away from the massive gates. My chest tightened.

This was it.

"Here we are," the man said.

I hesitated, my fingers gripping my iPad just a little tighter.

I could still turn back. I could ask him to take me anywhere else.

But no.

I had to go in.

I swallowed hard and reached for the door handle.

Just as I stepped out, his voice stopped me.

“Remember,” he said, “you’re not just a victim anymore.”

I stiffened.

Not just a victim.

I turned slightly, looking at him over my shoulder, but he was already looking ahead, his focus no longer on me.

I didn’t say anything. I just closed the door behind me and started walking.

The gates loomed over me, tall and intimidating. I took a breath before pushing them open and stepping inside.

The mansion was just as I had left it. Immaculate. Cold. Lifeless.

I walked through the front doors, my footsteps soft against the marble floor.

And then—

I stopped.

A scent drifted through the air.

Something floral. Sweet. Overpowering.

Not mine.

My stomach twisted.

My feet moved before I could think, carrying me up the stairs. My heart thumped with every step, but my mind was eerily calm.

I already knew.

I knew what I was about to see.

And yet, when I reached the bedroom door, a small, foolish part of me still wished I was wrong.

I pushed the door open.

And there he was.

Louis.

Lying in our bed.

With her.

A woman I didn’t recognize, her bare shoulders peeking out from beneath the silk sheets, her body pressed against his.

I didn’t make a sound. I didn’t gasp or cry or scream.

I just stood there.

Watching.

Louis’s arm was draped lazily over her waist, his face turned toward the ceiling, his expression utterly relaxed. He hadn’t even noticed me yet.

How fitting.

Even when I was standing right in front of him, he still didn’t see me.

The woman stirred first. She shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against his chest before her eyes fluttered open.

And then she saw me.

Her body tensed immediately, her eyes widening. "Oh my God."

Louis frowned at her reaction before finally turning his head. His gaze met mine.

For a brief second, confusion flickered in his expression.

Then it was gone, replaced by irritation.

“Evelyn?” His voice was rough from sleep. “Where the hell have you been?”

My fingers curled around my iPad.

That’s what he wanted to know?

Not if I was okay. Not why I had been gone for hours.

Just where.

Something inside me snapped.

I lifted my iPad and typed. You didn’t care when I was gone. Why do you care now?

Louis's jaw clenched. His body shifted, and he sat up, pulling the sheets over himself as if that would make any of this better.

"I asked you a question," he said, his voice sharper now.

I held his gaze, my hands steady as I typed my response.

And I asked you one, too.

Silence.

The woman beside him looked between us, clearly uncomfortable. “Um… I should go,” she muttered, gathering the sheets around herself as she slid off the bed.

Louis didn’t acknowledge her.

His focus was entirely on me now.

For the first time in years, I had his full attention.

But it was too late.

I wasn’t the same woman who had walked out of this house hours ago.

I wasn’t the same woman who had spent five years waiting for him to notice her.

I had changed.

And he had no idea what was coming.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gaze locked onto mine.

The concern in his voice only made my blood boil. Why did he care now?

I turned to leave, but before I could take a step, his hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he pressed, his grip firm but not painful.

I exhaled sharply, yanking my iPad from my bag. My fingers flew across the screen.

I'm fine. I just went out to meet my new boyfriend.

I turned the screen toward him, watching his expression shift—first confusion, then disbelief, and finally, anger. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening.

For the first time in years, I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. So this is what it feels like? To watch him suffer the way I did?

The thought startled me. Where had that even come from?

His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "What?" He took a step closer. "You have a boyfriend?"

I met his gaze head-on and typed again.

Yes. And I had the best night with him last night.

The words barely left the screen before his entire body tensed. His nostrils flared, rage flickering across his face like a spark ready to ignite.

Before I could react, his hand shot out, grabbing my arm and shoving me against the wall. My breath hitched as my back hit the hard surface.

"How dare you?" His voice was low, shaking with fury. "You're mine. Only mine."

Then, without warning, he leaned in, forcing a kiss on me.