Chapter 5 The de

Emily stood in the middle of the room, stunned. The door was locked. The windows were sealed. Her phone was gone. Her life, everything she knew, had been ripped away in one night.

She paced back and forth, trying to calm her breathing. She wasn't just scared-she was furious.

He can't do this. He's not above the law. I'll find a way out.

The room was too perfect. Clean. Expensive. Almost like a hotel, but without freedom. The bed was covered in soft white sheets. A tall dresser sat in the corner. A single vase of fresh roses rested on a glass table, as if that would make her feel better about being kidnapped.

After a while, the door opened again.

Emily spun around fast, ready to fight if she had to.

But it wasn't Alexander this time.

A woman walked in, late forties, kind eyes, brown hair pulled into a neat bun. She wore a black dress and carried a tray of food.

"I'm Maria," she said gently. "I work here."

"Here?" Emily repeated. "You mean the prison?"

Maria gave her a sad smile. "It's not a prison. But I understand how it feels right now."

"Why am I here?" Emily asked, her voice cracking. "Why me?"

Maria didn't answer that. She just placed the tray on the table.

"You should eat," she said. "He won't hurt you. I promise."

Emily stared at her. "Do you even know what he is?"

Maria looked her in the eye. "Yes. I know exactly what he is. But I also know he doesn't do things without a reason. Give it time."

She turned and left.

Emily sat down and stared at the untouched plate, chicken, rice, vegetables, even a slice of pie. Her stomach growled, but she didn't touch it.

Two hours passed. Maybe three.

Then the door opened again.

This time, it was Alexander.

Emily shot to her feet. "You can't just keep me here!"

He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. His expression was unreadable.

"I didn't plan this," he said. "I have rules. I don't like crossing lines unless I have to."

She laughed bitterly. "Kidnapping a girl? Seems like a big line."

"You saw something you weren't supposed to. Something dangerous."

Emily crossed her arms. "Was it a body in that bag?"

He didn't answer. His silence was louder than anything he could have said.

"You're part of something bad," she whispered. "Something dark. You hide behind that perfect face, but underneath... you're just a criminal."

He didn't blink. "Yes. I am."

The room fell silent.

"I don't hurt people who don't deserve it," he added. "But I can't afford to let anyone risk what I've built. I've worked too hard to keep my business out of the headlines."

"So what happens now?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Do you kill me? Keep me locked up forever?"

His eyes darkened. "I don't kill innocent people, Emily. And you are very much alive."

"Then let me go."

He walked toward her slowly, until he was close enough that she had to tilt her chin to look up at him. "I can't. Not yet. I don't trust you."

Emily swallowed hard. "You think I'd go to the police."

"I know you would."

He took a step back. "You'll stay here. For how long? That depends on you."

"I'm not some pet you can lock up," she snapped.

His voice stayed calm. "No. You're a risk I have to manage."

He turned to leave again, then stopped at the door.

"You're not a prisoner. You're a guest under heavy watch. And if you behave, it stays that way."

Then he was gone.

The door locked behind him.

Emily dropped onto the bed, her hands shaking. She wanted to scream, cry, throw something, but she didn't.

Instead, she lay back and stared at the ceiling.

I will get out of here.

I'll survive this.

But in the back of her mind, a terrifying question echoed:

Why did part of her believe him when he said he wouldn't hurt her?