15.

I shoved the phone back into my bag without waiting for a reply, too tired to care.

Daniel’s grip tightened slightly, and without a word, he turned and started walking again. I followed, my movements stiff and mechanical. My legs moved, but it felt like someone else was controlling them. I didn’t even know where we were going, or if I cared anymore.

The car ride was silent, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of my clothes as I shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Daniel didn’t speak to me, and I didn’t speak to him. I didn’t even know what to say. What was there left to say?

The anger was gone, replaced by an eerie emptiness. The tears had dried up long ago, leaving nothing but a dry ache in my chest. My emotions were a jumbled mess, but there was no clarity, no sense of direction. I couldn’t even bring myself to cry anymore.

I stared out of the window as the city passed by in a blur, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on me. I felt as if I were walking through the motions of life, a spectator in my own existence. I wasn’t even in control of myself anymore.

We reached his house, the large, imposing mansion that I had once thought would be my escape from everything, but now it felt like a prison.

As Daniel parked the car, I stepped out, moving on autopilot, barely registering anything around me. He didn’t say anything as we entered the house, didn’t ask me if I was okay, didn’t care. He didn’t need to. He had already won.

Inside, everything was cold, the silence pressing in on me from every direction. Daniel walked ahead, his presence as domineering as ever. I followed, my body moving on instinct, my mind lost in a fog of exhaustion and defeat.

When we reached the living room, I stood there, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. I felt like I was fading, slipping away from myself, from everything I had ever known. The anger, the fire inside me—gone.

I couldn’t fight this anymore.

Daniel turned to me, his eyes searching mine, but I refused to meet his gaze. I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t want to see that look in his eyes—the one that told me I was nothing more than a pawn in his game.

"Go to your room," he said, his voice sharp, giving no room for argument.

I nodded mechanically, the motion feeling so foreign to me. I turned, walking up the stairs without a word. I didn’t care what he wanted, where he wanted me to go. I just needed space—space from him, from everything, even if it was just for a few minutes.

I reached my room, the familiar surroundings offering no comfort. I shut the door behind me with a soft click, and for the first time since this all started, I felt a wave of coldness wash over me.

I was alone now, but I didn’t feel relief. I didn’t feel anything.

I stood there for a moment, my body frozen, before collapsing onto the bed. The exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks, but I didn’t sleep. How could I? My thoughts were too chaotic, too overwhelming, and yet too empty at the same time.

I reached for my phone again, staring at the screen as if willing Cecily to text back, to call me, to pull me out of this mess. But the phone remained silent, and I realized with a sickening sense of finality that I was alone in this.

And it was my fault.

I had given up. I had let Daniel win.

I was still lost in the silence of my room when the maid knocked on the door, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.

"Miss Vera, there’s going to be an interview on TV today," she said, her tone polite but with an undercurrent of urgency. "Mr. Daniel said you should be ready."

I blinked, the words slowly sinking in. An interview? What was this about now?

I simply nodded in response. What else could I do? This was just another thing I had to do, another task handed to me with no explanation. I didn’t ask questions anymore. It didn’t matter.

The maids came in and started tidying up around me, fluffing pillows and adjusting curtains like it was any other day. I barely noticed them. My thoughts were too scattered to focus on anything. I just let them do their work, walking around me like shadows.

I glanced at the clock. There wasn’t much time. I pulled off my robe and began getting dressed, the fabric feeling strangely heavy against my skin. As I was pulling up my middle, getting ready to choose a blouse, the door slammed open.

I froze, looking up to see Daniel standing in the doorway, his presence like an invisible weight pushing down on me. His eyes were cold, calculating, like always. I didn’t even have a chance to react before he spoke.

"Read and learn the answers," he said, his tone sharp and direct. "That’s what you’ll do. The interview isn’t optional."

His words hit me like a slap, but I didn’t argue. He had already made his demands clear. I knew what was expected of me now, just like everything else in this mess. I felt a hollow ache inside me, like my body was moving on its own while my mind had checked out.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"Get to work," Daniel added, his voice leaving no room for defiance. He stood there for a moment, watching me as if assessing whether I would follow through. I knew better than to defy him.

He turned and left without another word, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

I was alone again, but the silence felt heavier than ever. I sat down at the vanity, the interview questions laid out in front of me, but my mind couldn’t focus. How was I supposed to learn this? I was barely even here, let alone prepared for whatever this was.

I glanced at the maids as they continued to move around the room, folding clothes, straightening up. They seemed unfazed by it all, like this was just another part of the routine.

And for me, I guess it was. A part of my new life that I had no choice but to accept. The knot in my stomach tightened, but I didn’t have the energy to care.

I picked up the papers, trying to read through them, but the words blurred in front of my eyes. What was I even doing? I couldn’t concentrate.

The world felt too distant now. And yet, all I could think about was the interview and Daniel’s cold, unyielding presence.