Chapter 11 Her Only Lead

Chapter 11 Her Only Lead
“The cameras were never off.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

Does that mean he watched me sleep? Bathe? All those moments I thought I had privacy, was he watching?

No. No, he wouldn’t. Even though Nikolai isn’t the kind of man who jokes, I need to believe this is one of those rare, cruel jokes. He promised. He swore he turned them off.

I shoot to my feet, nearly tripping on the rug, my hands shaking as I start searching the room. 

I tear through the space like a woman possessed. I flip the pillows, run my hands under the mattress, pull open drawers. The sheets are tossed to the floor, the lamp crashes against the nightstand. I don’t even care.

My gaze catches on the mirror above the dresser, angled ever so slightly toward the bed. My pulse stops. Slowly, I approach it, my reflection fractured by light. I grab the frame and tilt it down. Behind it, only smooth plaster. No wires. No lens. Nothing.

But that doesn’t calm me. It just makes the panic worse.

I move to the curtains next, jerking them open and scanning the corners of the window, then to the air vent, even the carved frame of the door. Every sound, the ticking clock, the hum of the air conditioner, feels like it’s mocking me.

“Where are you?” I whisper, voice trembling. “Where the hell are you?”

I tap on the walls, one section at a time, listening for hollowness, for the faintest clue that something’s hidden inside. Nothing. 

I spin around, my chest rising and falling fast. My breathing turns shallow. The silence presses down on me, until I swear I can feel eyes on my skin. 

I stumble back to the bed and sit, burying my face in my hands. My pulse thrums in my ears. The room feels smaller now. Claustrophobic. Like the walls themselves are closing in on me.

“You bastard,” I whisper.

My voice trembles, not from fear, but fury. He had taken everything from me. My freedom, my peace, my dignity... and now, he wanted to strip me of my last defense. My pride. My privacy as a woman.

The idea that he could’ve been watching me while I slept, while I bathed, while I changed… it makes my skin crawl. I feel dirty. Exposed. Violated in a way words can’t describe. I can’t stay here like this, knowing his eyes might be on me through invisible lenses. Knowing that he might be somewhere, smirking, enjoying my helplessness.

My pulse pounds in my ears. I need to think. I need to do something. Anything. But my mind refuses to cooperate. Panic blurs every rational thought, turning everything into noise. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, forcing myself to calm down.

Slowly, fragments of the day begin to flash through my min. The soft-voiced maid with gold locks and eyes that darted like she was afraid to be seen.

My eyes fly open. That’s it. The girl who brought Adrian’s letter yesterday. If Adrian trusted her enough to deliver a message, she must be on his side, or at least not completely loyal to Nikolai. She’s my only lead.

A plan starts to take shape. 

If I can find her, she might be able to tell me where the control room is... the place where all the cameras are monitored. If I can get there, I’ll know the truth. I’ll see for myself whether Nikolai really turned them off or if his promise was just another one of his cruel games.

And if they’re still on... I’ll find a way to destroy them. Every single one. I’ll trace the angle of the feed, pinpoint the lens hidden in my room, and make sure his eyes never reach me again.

I glance at the glowing band on my wrist. Its soft light pulses faintly. Another eye. Another reminder that I’m never truly alone.

A sick feeling coils in my stomach. I slip a finger beneath it and slowly lift it off, careful not to trigger any sensors, if it even has any. The band is cold. I place it gently on the bed, half expecting it to buzz or blink, to alert him that I’ve dared to disobey.

Nothing happens. Just silence.

The relief is short-lived. Now comes the harder part.

The maid. I need to find her. She’s my only lead, my only chance to know whether I’m truly free… or still trapped inside Nikolai’s invisible cage.

I haven’t even had my bath this morning or eaten. But how can I do that if Nikolai might be watching my naked body?
The thought makes bile rise to my throat. I grit my teeth, my hands curling into fists. What a shameless man. 

I move toward the door, my hand trembling slightly on the handle. Just as I’m about to open it, footsteps echo in the corridor, accompanied by the faint creak of wheels. I freeze.

When I finally open the door a crack, my breath catches.
There she is. The maid with the gold curls, her head bowed, pushing a silver trolley toward my room.

A trolley? My heart skips. What’s she bringing? Breakfast? A message?

Panic grips me before reason can catch up. I rush back inside and sit quickly on the edge of the bed, trying to look composed, like I’d been waiting all along and not about to sneak out like a fugitive. My palms are slick with sweat as I smooth the sheets, pretending calm.

When the door opens, I raise my head slowly, pretending I hadn’t known she was coming all along.
The maid steps in, pushing the silver trolley carefully. She avoids my eyes as she sets down a tray of food. Eggs, fruits and a steaming cup of tea. Then she places a neatly folded dress beside it.

Purple again.
Of course. I guess it's no longer mine but Nikolai’s favorite color. 

She finishes arranging the tray and turns to leave, head still bowed. That’s when I remember. She’s the one I was going to look for. And fate has brought her straight to me.

“Wait,” I say quietly.

She pauses at the door.

“Can you stay? I… need help with the buttons.”

Her hesitation is subtle, but I catch it.

“Of course, ma’am.”

She walks back to me, her movements cautious, almost rehearsed. As she begins to fumble with the buttons at the back of my dress, I lower my voice, just above a whisper.

“There’s something I need you to tell me.”

Her hands still for a moment. “Tell you?”

I feel her breath near my neck, the soft tremor in her fingers betraying the calmness in her voice. “About what, ma’am?”

I glance toward the mirror, the corners of the ceiling, the glinting edge of the wristband I left on the bed.
“The cameras,” I whisper.

That single word makes her stiffen completely. For a monent, she doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe.

I turn slightly, just enough to catch her expression. Her lips part, as if to speak, but she stops herself. Her eyes dart to the walls again.

“They were supposed to be off,” I continue, voice trembling slightly. “But he said… they never were. I need to know if that’s true.”

The silence that follows stretches unbearably.
Finally, the maid exhales quietly and shakily.

“Miss, please,” she murmurs, her tone urgent. “You shouldn’t ask about that here.”

I blink, confusion and dread curling together in my chest. “What do you mean here?”

Her eyes lift to mine, wide and fearful. “Because, ma’am… he can hear everything.”