Chapter 5 The Line You Don't Cross

Brian leaned on the door frame with a lazy smile that never reached his eyes.

"Morning, sister-in-law. We need a little... chat."

Selena tightened her grip on the handle. Her palms were damp. Don't show it.

"What do you want, Brian?"

"Relax. I'm family." He said "family" like a joke. His gaze drifted over her face and lower, searching for cracks. "You ran out on breakfast. Bad manners. Sarah hates bad manners."

"I wasn't hungry."

"Shame. We had a sweet spread." He leaned in, close enough for his cologne to turn sour. "Step outside. I'm being polite."

The corridor was empty. No Alexandra. No Joseph. No witnesses.

If you go, keep the door open. Keep it short.

Selena moved into the hall but left the door wide. "Say it here."

Brian's smile sharpened. "You and I should understand each other. My brother is a machine. Cold. He doesn't do affection. It gets lonely in this house."

"Not my problem."

"Everything here is your problem," he said softly. "And your body is my business if it becomes the house's business. Do you understand me?"

The words stung. Her mother's voice rose in her mind. "You don't let cowards define you, Selena". She lifted her chin.

"You're not as clever as you think."

He tilted his head. "Clever enough to know what happens when the wrong picture leaks. The press loves a new bride who can't keep her legs closed."

"Move."

He braced a hand on the frame. "No. We'll do this properly. Meet me by the winter garden in ten minutes. We'll take a walk. Everyone will see we're getting along. You'll smile."

"I won't."

He stepped closer. His breath touched her cheek. "You will. Or I'll start a rumor that will make your life here impossible."

He wants fear. Don't fold.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she said. "If you touch me, I'll scream."

Brian's smile thinned. "There are no dead here, sweetheart. Only people who wish they were." He brushed her shoulder with two fingers. "Ten minutes. Winter garden. Wear something pretty."

He strolled away, whistling. The sound made her skin crawl.

Selena closed the door and pressed her back to it. Her hands shook. She breathed with the count of her mother's old trick-four in, four hold, four out-until the pulse eased. In the mirror she said to her reflection, clear and steady:

"You are not prey."

A soft knock. Alexandra stood there with folded towels and watchful eyes. "Are you okay, Miss Selena?"

"No," Selena said. "But I will be."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes."

Alexandra stepped inside and shut the door. Selena told her what Brian said-no drama, just facts. Alexandra's mouth flattened.

"I don't like the winter garden," Alexandra said. "Blind spots. The cameras don't cover the far corner."

So he chose it on purpose.

"I won't meet him," Selena said. "But I won't hide."

"Should I get Mr Joseph?"

Pride rose, then sense. He warned them at breakfast. He'll handle Brian better than I can alone.

"Not yet," Selena said. "If it goes wrong, yes."

"It's been five minutes already," Alexandra murmured, glancing at the clock.

"Then I won't keep him waiting long," Selena said. Her stomach tightened. "I'll be quick."

"Please be careful."

"I will."

---

The winter garden was glass and iron and quiet money. Manicured trees reached for the high ceiling. A narrow fountain hissed along the far wall.

Brian stood by the water, hands in his pockets, dressed like a photo. Good shoes, easy pose, mask on.

Selena stopped three paces away. "Say what you want to say."

He spread his hands. "Civilized. I like that." He nodded at a shaded bench near the blind corner. "Sit. Smile. If anyone passes, they'll think we get along. Do that for the family."

"We aren't family," Selena said. "We're strangers in the same house because your brother and I signed a contract. That's it."

He moved a step closer. The fountain's hiss filled the space.

Hold ground. Don't back up.

"I know girls like you," he said. "Pretty. Proud. You arrive in a palace and promise yourself you'll keep your head. Then a man like me shows you the rules. You bend or you break."

"I don't bend," she said. The fear sat in her chest, but her words stayed even. "And I don't break for bullies."

The mask fell. He reached for her arm-

A hand caught his wrist before he touched her. Strong and pale. A thin white scar across the knuckle.

"Let go of my wife," Joseph said.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. His eyes were colder than the fountain. He stood between them, not crowding Selena-just there, a wall by choice.

Brian tried to pull back. Joseph didn't move. He leaned in, voice low enough for only them.

"You will not touch her," he said. "You will not speak to her unless she speaks first. You will not meet her in rooms with blind corners. You will not use her to bait me. You will not come within five meters when staff aren't present. If you break any part of this, I will end your access to this house, this company, and the money you bleed from it."

Brian sneered. "You can't ban me from my home."

"Watch me."

Heat rose in Brian's face. "You need an heir, don't you?" he said, trying for light and failing. "You sure you want to scare the only woman who agreed to touch you?"

Selena's cheeks burned. Joseph didn't glance her way; his eyes never left Brian.

"You're making me repeat myself," he said. "I don't like repeating myself."

He released Brian with a short shove. Brian rocked, then covered it with a thin laugh. "Fine. I'll be a gentleman. For now." He slid his gaze to Selena. "You're safe, sweetheart. At least until he gets bored."

Joseph stepped so Brian lost sight of her. "Leave."

Brian held her eyes a second longer, a silent promise of trouble, then turned the corner, hands in pockets, the same easy whistle trailing behind him.

Joseph watched until he was out of sight. Then he spoke, still quiet.

"You don't meet him alone. Ever."

"I didn't plan this," Selena said. She heard the defensive edge and hated it. "He came to my door."

"I know," Joseph said.

She frowned. "How?"

"I see more than people think," he said. "And I don't like blind corners either."

They looked at each other as if the air between them was thin glass. The panic in her chest shifted-less sharp, more like a bruise.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're under my roof," he said. "You don't have to thank me."

"It still matters. How you did it."

A shadow crossed his mouth. "I told you. You're not owned."

"You act like I'm a responsibility."

"You are," he said. "And something else."

"What?"

He didn't answer. He glanced at the path Brian took. "If he bothers you again, call me. Immediately."

"I don't have your number."

He handed her his phone. "Put yours in."

She did. A text message buzzed on her phone: Joseph.

Her chest felt too small.

"Go back to your room," he said. "Stay with Alexandra for an hour. I have a meeting. After, come to the music room."

"Why?"

"A way out of your head," he said. Then, aware of how it sounded, "Music."

She almost said no out of pride. But she remembered the calm in that room. "Fine."

He nodded. "And, Selena, don't let them see you shaken. They feed on it."

"I'm not food," she said.

"Good."

He left through a side door. Quiet. No scene. Brian will hate that more.

---

Alexandra listened in silence, then exhaled. "Thank God he came. Mr Joseph hates public scenes. He keeps it inside. That scares people more."

"It scared Brian," Selena said. "He hid it, but I saw it."

"I'll stay close," Alexandra said, then hesitated and took out her phone. "There's something I should show you. I wasn't sure, but after today..."

She turned the screen. A photo of a small white pill bottle. The label was partly peeled. At the bottom, a long chemical name.

Selena's stomach dropped. The coroner's note. The same compound flagged after her mother's death.

"Where?" she asked.

"Madam Sarah's sitting room," Alexandra said. "She keeps a tray of supplements. The batch code looked wrong. I took a picture in case."

The room tilted. "It matters," Selena said. "Don't touch anything. Don't mention it to anyone. Not even staff."

Alexandra nodded, eyes wide. "You think-"

"I don't know yet," Selena said. But I do think. And it scares me.

Selena's phone chimed.

Joseph: Music room. Fifteen minutes.

"I have to go," she said. "If Brian knocks, don't answer. Call me or Joseph."

"I will," Alexandra said. "Be careful."

---

The music room in the east wing held late light across a black piano. Joseph stood beside it with his jacket off and sleeves rolled. He gestured to a chair. She sat.

He didn't ask about the winter garden. He didn't need to.

He set a record spinning on a turntable. Warm strings filled the room. He sat at the piano.

"I don't play well," he said.

"I don't believe you."

He glanced up; something quick crossed his face and vanished. "Well enough for this."

He played slow, open chords that matched the strings, then stepped aside so they could breathe. His hands were sure, not showy. Selena thought of those hands on Brian's wrist. The control, then the release.

Her chest loosened without permission. The knot in her stomach began to uncoil.

"This is what you do when you don't want to think," she said.

"Yes."

"It works."

"Sometimes."

He played another piece-quiet, like walking at night with only the right amount of fear. When he stopped, the silence felt earned.

"Thank you," she said.

"You don't owe me thanks," he said.

"Maybe I like saying it."

A flicker near his mouth. Not a smile, but close. "Eat with me tonight," he said. "Not in the dining room. Here."

The thought of Sarah and Brian's sharp eyes made her skin tighten. This room felt like clean air.

"Okay," she said. "Here."

He tapped a message. "Eight o'clock."

He closed the piano and looked at her for a long second. Intent, not possession. Seen, not pinned.

"If anyone threatens you again," he said, "tell me. We won't manage it alone."

"I won't be treated like glass."

"I know."

Do you? She almost asked. Do you know anything about the parts of me you can't buy?

His phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen; his face went flat.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing that can't wait," he said. "I'll see you at eight."

It's something. She left it. Not my business, at least not yet.

---

Dinner in the music room was calm. A small table by the window. Roast chicken, greens, rice. No staff hovering. No Sarah, Brian nor Anita. Peace, strange and fragile.

They ate in quiet that wasn't heavy. When they spoke, it was small things, her mother's favorite hymn, the park she loved as a child, the first book that convinced him he needed power to survive. No big promises, no begging for trust. Just food and music and a kind of ease neither of them trusted.

"Why me?" she asked finally. "You said I'm simple. No drama. That's not true, my life is a mess."

He thought, then answered without polish. "Because you don't like power," he said. "You only use it when you have to. People who like power are dangerous."

"You like power."

"I need it," he said. "That's different." He looked at the dark window. "Or I pretend it is."

She studied him. You're a man with walls and a key you won't use.

"Thank you for tonight," she said. "For earlier, too."

He nodded. "Go and rest. I'll have Security escort you to your floor."

"I can walk."

"You can," he said. "I'd rather you didn't."

She stood. "Goodnight, Joseph."

"Goodnight, Selena."

---

The hallway to her room was empty. Security shadowed at a distance. She thanked them and went in. On the bedside table: a small note in neat handwriting-Knock if you need me. I am awake. -Alex.

Selena smiled. She showered, put on a robe, and sat on the bed with her mother's photo.

"I'm trying," she whispered. "I don't know if I'm doing it right. But I'm trying."

Her phone buzzed.

Mark: Are you okay?

Her chest folded in on itself. She typed, deleted, typed again.

Selena: I'm fine. I can't talk now.

Three dots pulsed, stopped and then started.

Mark: If you need me, say the word.

Her fingers hovered. She locked the phone and put it face down. "Not now," she whispered.

Sleep came in pieces.

---

Far down the corridor, in a rarely used guest room where the lights flickered, a woman sat at a small desk with a glass and a vial. Perfect nails and a perfect smile.

Anita held the vial to the light and watched the clear liquid catch it. She tapped her phone and read the message again, then typed.

Unknown: Tonight?

Anita: Yes. Room 312. Make sure he drinks. I'll handle the rest.

She stirred the glass with a silver spoon, lifted it, and smiled at her reflection on the surface.

"Sweet dreams, Joseph," she murmured.