Chapter 166: Golden Shackles

Chapter 166: Golden Shackles
Nina’s POV
"Nina," Raymond said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Kevin texted me that you weren't feeling well. I came back as soon as I could."
I stared at him, caught off guard. This was not the same man from last night. The coldness in his eyes had softened, replaced by what looked like genuine concern. He crossed the room and sat beside me, his hand reaching for mine.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, pulling my hand away. "Kevin was making a big deal out of nothing."
Raymond's jaw tightened slightly, but the gentle expression remained. "He was worried. I was worried."
"Well, I'm okay now." I stood up, smoothing down my dress. "I should head home. It's getting late."
Raymond stood and reached into his pocket. My pulse thundered in my ears as I watched him pull out a small velvet box.
"I have something for you," he said, holding it out to me. "Open it."
My hands shook as I took the box. This was not what I had expected. I lifted the lid carefully, revealing a gleaming gold bracelet nestled against black silk. Intricate sunflower patterns were carved into the metal, catching the light as I tilted the box.
Raymond took the bracelet from the box and reached for my wrist. His fingers were warm against my skin as he clasped the jewelry in place, adjusting it carefully.
"Do you like it?"
"This is too expensive."
"You're worth it." His thumb brushed over the bracelet.
He smiled and pressed a kiss to my temple before letting me go.
During the drive back to my apartment, I couldn't stop looking at the bracelet. It gleamed in the passing streetlights, beautiful and heavy on my wrist. Like a golden shackle. That voice in my head grew louder, more insistent. I had to find a way to leave.
My thoughts returned to the safe in Raymond's bedroom. Whatever was inside must be valuable, important enough to keep locked away. But what could it be? I knew I could never open it. That wasn't the important thing now.
The important thing was finding a way to leave Raymond.
I had tried before. Weeks ago, I had suggested finding a job, thinking that work might give me some independence. Raymond had shut down that idea immediately.
"You don't need to work," he had said, his tone final. "Whatever job you could get wouldn't pay you as much as your allowance from me anyway."
Because Raymond wouldn't let me work, these past months had been isolating. Despite living in a major city, I was completely cut off from society. My entire world had shrunk to the boundaries Raymond set for me.
But there was one area where Raymond had always been generous. He never restricted my spending. I had learned to play my part well, showing enthusiasm for designer handbags and expensive jewelry whenever we went shopping. Raymond seemed pleased by my interest in these things.
What he didn't know was that I was secretly planning to sell every gift he gave me. The money would be converted to cash and hidden away, saved for the day I finally found a chance to escape. When that moment came, I would need it.
Because of my careful performance, Raymond had been satisfied with me lately. He had become more affectionate, more openly tender. He would pull me into his lap while watching television. He bought me flowers without occasion. He would call me during the day just to hear my voice. When we went out to dinner, he would hold my hand across the table and look at me like I was something precious. Sometimes at night, he would do nothing but hold me while sleeping.
But these gestures did not make me feel romantic.
One morning, I woke in Raymond's bed to find him already gone. The house felt empty and quiet. I got dressed and made my way downstairs, planning to leave for my apartment.
As I passed Raymond's study, a sharp, metallic smell hit me. The scent was so strong it made my stomach turn. The study door stood slightly ajar, and I could see something dark staining the floor inside.
My hand pushed the door open.
The body lay sprawled across the hardwood, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood pooled beneath it, spreading in a dark, sticky circle. The man's eyes were open and glassy, staring at nothing. His throat had been cut so deeply I could see bone beneath the torn flesh. Flies buzzed around the wound.
A scream tore from my throat. I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth, bile rising in my throat.
"Nina."
Raymond's voice came from behind me.
"You killed someone," I said, my voice shaking with horror. "You killed him. Again."
"You should pretend you didn't see anything." Raymond stepped closer. His voice was quiet, almost gentle. "Otherwise..."
He let the threat hang in the air between us.
The middle-aged maid appeared in the hallway. She carried a bucket and rags in her hands. She walked past us without looking up, her face completely blank. She knelt beside the body and began wiping at the blood with mechanical, practiced movements. Her expression never changed.
Kevin and two other bodyguards entered the study. They grabbed the corpse by the arms and legs and started dragging it toward the back door. The body left a long smear of blood across the floor. The maid continued scrubbing, unmoved by any of it.
Raymond pointed at her. "See her? If I catch you talking about what you've seen, you'll end up just like her. She wasn't always deaf and mute."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "You made her deaf and mute?"
"As long as you behave, I would never do that to you." His hand came up to cup my face. His thumb stroked my cheek in a mockery of tenderness. "How could I bear to hurt you?"
His touch sent waves of revulsion through me. I stood frozen, unable to move or speak. My skin crawled where his fingers traced my face.
I remembered what he had told me before, when this had all started. He had said that when he got bored with me, he would simply let me go. That claim was never believable. I knew too much now. I had seen too much. Raymond would never let me walk away.
I looked at the maid kneeling on the floor. She scrubbed at the bloodstains with steady, efficient strokes. Her hands moved automatically, like she had done this a thousand times before. Her eyes were empty.
Maybe when Raymond finally got tired of me, when I no longer amused or pleased him, this would be my fate too. Not freedom. Not a clean break. Just this. Broken and silent. Cleaning up his messes until I was no longer useful at all.
The golden bracelet felt impossibly heavy on my wrist.