The blood-red sunset cast the last streaks of daylight through the stained-glass window of the reading room, stretching lingering dark shadows across the mahogany floor.
Maya still sat cowering on the rug, both arms hugging little Mark's small shoulders tightly. The rapid pounding from her chest blended with the five-year-old child's shallow, frantic breathing. Mark's account of the locked room beneath the west wing basement — the place with the fragrance of lily flowers and the sound of a music box playing softly in the deep night — kept echoing back and forth in Maya's head like a death warning bell.
She stooped down, pressing her forehead against the boy's forehead, whispering with a trembling urgency: "Remember, Mark... This is our own secret between teacher and student. Absolutely do not—"
"Do not tell anyone... right?"
A deep, composed voice containing a bone-chilling threat abruptly tore through the silent space.
Maya froze entirely. All the blood in her body seemed to stop flowing for a beat.
At the reading room threshold, a tall silhouette had been standing there since who knows when.
Travis was not wearing his familiar overcoat. He wore only a pitch-black shirt wrapping around his muscular chest frame, both hands thrust slowly into his pants pockets. The murky light of late afternoon shining from behind made his chiseled face sink completely into darkness, leaving only his ash-grey eyes flashing a cold, ruthless ray of light as dark as a bottomless abyss.
How long had he been standing there? How much had he overheard?
Mark was startled, jumping up, his small face instantly turning deathly pale without a single drop of blood. The child backed away in fear behind Maya's back, his tiny hands clutching the cardigan coat hem of the teacher so tightly that his finger joints turned stark white.
"Dad..." Mark spoke in a trembling voice, as tiny as a mosquito's buzz.
Travis did not look at his son. His ash-grey gaze was pinned tightly onto Maya — a look sharp like a scalpel, slowly dissecting every layer of calm disguise she had tried to build throughout the past days. He stepped leisurely step by step into the room. His expensive leather shoes tapped lightly on the mahogany floor, emitting slow thud... thud... sounds, like the countdown rhythm of a death sentence.
"Mark, go to the toy room," Travis spoke up, his voice so gentle it was spine-chilling, yet hiding an absolute commanding power. "The nanny is waiting for you there."
"Dad... Ms. Maya didn't..." Mark swallowed a mouthful of saliva, attempting to utter words to defend his teacher, but the boy's voice choked beneath his father's cold stare.
"Go to your room. Right now." Travis repeated, without raising his tone of voice in the slightest, yet the air in the room instantly dropped below zero degrees.
Maya bit her lip tightly, lightly patting Mark's back, whispering soothingly: "Be good, Mark... Go to your room first. I am fine."
The child looked at his teacher tearfully with moving lips, then hugged his teddy bear tightly and ran out of the reading room, leaving a suffocating space to the point of driving one mad between the two adults.
When the sound of Mark's footsteps vanished completely at the end of the hallway, Travis finally retrieved one hand slowly out of his pants pocket.
He walked close to the sofa, stopping right before Maya. His giant dark shadow covered the slender, shivering body of the young girl.
"I always thought you were an obedient, naive teacher who was grateful for my protection," Travis leaned his body down. His perfect face approached close to her at an extremely short distance. His warm index finger extended out, gently lifting Maya's chin up, forcing her to face his ash-grey eyes full of disappointment and morbid possessiveness.
"However, it appears... you are much more curious about my family affairs than I thought, Maya."
His voice whispered, whispering as sweet as a lover's confession, yet the squeezing force on her chin was as hard as an iron shackle.
"I... I didn't..." Maya gasped for breath, both hands crumpling her skirt hem, tears about to spill at the corners of her eyes. "I was only... only worried about Mark, Mr. Travis! I had no intention of finding out anything at all!"
Travis burst out laughing — a quiet laugh echoing from his muscular chest, dry and ruthless.
"No intention, huh?" Travis tilted his head, his thumb lightly brushing over her trembling lips. "Then the phone hidden in your cardigan coat pocket... and those long calls at the stone house at the end of the garden... were those also 'no intention'?"
SNAP!
Maya's last thread of reason snapped completely. Her whole body trembled violently. He knew! He did not only know about her asking Mark, but he grasped her every footstep sneaking out to the stone house, every secret call with Chloe! All the restraint, the freedom granted to her to stroll on the grounds... was actually merely a game of cat and mouse where he held all the cards!
"Pull it out here," Travis lowered his voice, a tone suppressing his final patience.
Maya tremblingly reached her ice-cold hand into her cardigan coat pocket, pulling the phone out. Travis nonchalantly retrieved it. He did not open it to check text messages or call logs at all, but merely used a ruthless hand force, crushing the smartphone into pieces of plastic and shattered glass right before her eyes.
CRACK... CRUNCH!
Shattered metal pieces and crushed screen fragments fell thud onto the mahogany rug.
"Game over, Maya," Travis stood bolt upright, pulling out a handkerchief to leisurely wipe every finger clean. "Your act of naivety is finished."
That very night, Maya's world shrank completely inside four rusty stone walls.
She was no longer allowed to stay in the vast, magnificent guest room on the second floor of the east wing. Travis had people throw her down to an isolated room located at the very end of the castle's north wing — a place originally an old medieval dungeon cell series that had been renovated.
The room was less than twenty square meters in area, damp grey stone walls emanating a skin-slicing cold. In the room there was no marble fireplace, no crystal chandelier, merely a single iron bed covered in rough grey sheets, a small wooden table, and a murky yellow lamp hanging suspended from the high ceiling.
The most terrifying thing was that the sole window looking out onto the foggy pine forest was now welded shut with thick, dark iron bars.
THUD!
The heavy steel-plated red rosewood door slammed shut before Maya.
Clatter! Snap! Snap!
The sound of the large metal key turning in the outer lock rang out dry, sharp, and ruthlessly cold. The sound of heavy iron chains hanging down, striking against the wooden door created CLANG... CLANG... sounds tearing apart the dark night.
Maya rushed to the door, using both hands to pound violently on the stiff wood face: "Let me out! Mr. Travis! Let me out! I did nothing wrong! Please let me out!"
Her crying screams echoed in the cold stone space and then bounced back, dissipating into the absolute quietude of the castle. Outside the door, there was no reply, no footstep turning back.
Maya collapsed onto the icy stone floor, both hands hugging her knees, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. The moment that turning key sound rang out, she snapped awake from her sweet slumber. The "protection" Travis had reserved for her up until now had never been sincere shelter. This was an imprisonment — a sturdy golden cage he built to possess her, turning her into a creature completely dependent and lying entirely within his palm.
The days that followed became a psychological hell, smooth yet ruthless to the point of driving one mad.
Maya lost the concept of time completely. The isolated room had no clock, the sole light distinguishing day and night being pale streaks of sunlight or grey fog passing through the window iron bars. She was completely isolated: No phone, no books or newspapers, no laughter from Mark, nor was any servant permitted to utter a word to her.
The only person stepping past that steel-plated wooden door... was Travis.
Every day precisely three times — morning, noon, and night — the sound of iron chains outside rang out with a clatter. The door opened, and Travis walked in.
He did not use violence at all, did not yell at or interrogate her. On the contrary, his attentiveness and politeness reached a warped, spine-chilling level.
Every morning at eight o'clock, Travis walked in holding a luxurious food tray: piping hot abalone soup, toasted bread with fresh butter, and a glass of warm milk. He always wore expensive suits, immaculate as if preparing for a board of directors meeting, his chiseled face bearing a gentle smile that swayed people.
"Good morning, Maya," Travis spoke in a low voice, carefully placing the food tray onto the small wooden table.
Maya sat cowering in the corner of the iron bed, both hands hugging her chest tightly, her eyes overflowing with ultimate panic and vigilance looking at him.
Travis was not annoyed by her resistant attitude in the slightest. He walked leisurely closer to the bed, pulling a wooden chair to sit down right beside her. He personally scooped a spoonful of hot soup, bringing it close to the young teacher's tightly pressed lips.
"Come, eat a little. You have grown much thinner," Travis lowered his voice, a tone as sweet as soothing a cherished child.
"I won't eat! Take me out of here!" Maya shoved his hand hard.
The soup spoon flew outward, a streak of hot soup splashing onto Travis's expensive shirt sleeve.
The space in the room abruptly froze. Maya's heart sank, closing her eyes tightly waiting for an explosion of anger.
However, Travis merely wiped the dirt streak on his sleeve clean with a white handkerchief from his coat pocket. His face did not change color in the slightest, the smile on his lips maintaining a terrifyingly standard margin. He reached forward, his large, warm hand unexpectedly extending out, weaving into Maya's soft hair, lightly squeezing her nape, forcing her pale face to look straight into his eyes.
"Maya..." Travis whispered, his breath carrying sandalwood scent lightly passing over her smooth neck skin. "Don't test my patience. You know I really dislike bad children, right?"
His thumb brushed over her cheek, the squeezing force at her nape so strong it made Maya feel as if her neck bone were about to break. His ash-grey eyes burned with a wild, warped spark — the look of a powerful madman ready to crush everything if he could not possess it completely.
Maya trembled, fear completely defeating her resisting will. She was forced to part her lips, swallowing every spoonful of soup he scooped for her amidst resentment and streaming tears.
Seeing her receive it submissively, Travis's smile finally relaxed in full satisfaction. He gently used his finger to wipe away a tear on her cheek, lowering his head to kiss her forehead lightly — a deep, hot kiss full of possessive nature.
"Very good. It is very safe here. No one can hurt you, and you will also never have to leave my side again."
Every evening, after settling the family's confidential matters, Travis returned to the prison room once again.
He brought a copper basin holding warm water and a smooth cotton towel. He sat down at the foot of the bed, nonchalantly grasping Maya's bare, ice-cold foot, carefully dipping it into warm water and then drying each of her toes with the towel.
That meticulous care, treasuring her as if she were a fragile glass heirloom... was precisely the most terrifying invisible shackle. It made Maya feel driven mad. She preferred him beating or yelling at her over this warped gentleness.
"Mr. Travis..." Maya spoke in a faint voice, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep looking at the man kneeling on one knee on the floor wiping her feet. "Mark... how is Mark? Please... let me see little Mark just once..."
Travis's action abruptly paused.
He slowly raised his head. The murky yellow light casting down made his angular face become gloomy and cold. He stood up, dropping the cotton towel into the water basin, then walked close to the head of the bed.
Travis braced both hands on the iron bed surface, forcing Maya back deep into the wall corner. He looked at her trembling nose tip, speaking in a flat yet utterly ruthless voice:
"Mark is doing very well. He has begun to get used to not having you by his side."
"No... That's impossible!" Maya choked up, tears streaming out again. "He needs me! Every night he has to listen to me tell stories to sleep!"
"He is my son, the heir to this family," Travis curled his lip, his ash-grey eyes cold as ice. "He needs to learn to grow up amidst loneliness and ruthlessness, just like me in the past. Your weakness and naive affection... only make him soft."
Having said that, Travis extended his hand, gently caressing Maya's smooth neck skin. He lowered his head down, his coat hem covering her. His lips pressed close to her ear, whispering dark whispered words:
"You don't need to worry about anyone anymore, Maya. From now on, having only me alone in your world is enough."
He released her, turning his body and walking toward the door.
CLICK!
The steel-plated wooden door closed tight once again.
The sound of the key turning with a clatter... snap! and the sound of heavy iron chains falling echoed harshly in the dark night.
Maya sat hugging her knees on the cold iron bed, looking at the murky yellow lamp swaying on the ceiling. The sound of storm wind howling through the window iron bars sounded like the crying screams of imprisoned ghosts. She realized a tragically miserable truth: She had lost her freedom completely. This isolated room, this Gothic castle, and Travis's ruthless gentleness... would be the grave burying all the youth, dreams, and life of the naive intern teacher of days past.
