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Trapped with the heart that loved him
Chapter 1 Shadows behind the gate .
Our house never slept.
Even at night, it breathed. Light spilled from towering glass windows, reflecting off polished marble floors and the sparkling fountains at the center of the compound. Staff moved silently through the hallways, shadows flitting across walls lined with priceless art. The low hum of the generators reminded everyone inside that wealth didn't exist in silence,it existed in control.
I had lived like this my entire life: safe, surrounded by opulence, yet confined. My father's rules were invisible walls and though I appeared free, every step I took had always been measured. Luxury without freedom was a gilded cage, and I knew every bar by heart.
The gates were already open when my father's car rolled into the driveway. The headlights caught the fountain, the water glittering like frozen fire. My heels clicked against the stones as I stepped from the house into the driveway, straightening the emerald silk dress that hugged my curves in all the right ways. I knew I was beautiful,everyone did ,but beauty in our world was a weapon, a distraction, a warning. And I had never needed it... until now.
Our home loomed behind me, three floors of glass, stone, and quiet authority. Chandeliers glimmered like stars trapped indoors. Sculptures and paintings lined the walls, each a symbol of power and taste. Everything about this house screamed control, even to those who weren't supposed to notice it. I had spent my life learning to exist here without breaking it or myself.
"Meelan."
My father's voice was calm, firm, and full of weight. He stood near the car, tall, immaculately dressed in a dark tailored suit. He didn't smile often. When he did, it was brief, calculated-a sign of approval or warning, never affection.
"You'll be joining us tonight," he said. Not a question.
I nodded, aware that "joining" didn't mean mingling freely. It meant performing. Standing, Smiling,Observing, Being beautiful, being graceful, being silent. My life was a script I had to recite perfectly, every word, every step, every glance measured.
Abi arrived as I reached the grand staircase, slipping through the house like a breeze that didn't belong. She had always been my rebellion, my breath of air in a life boxed by luxury and rules. Her laughter was soft and irreverent, her eyes sharp, her presence untouchable. She was my friend.
"Wow," she whispered, surveying the hall. "Your house somehow manages to get more extravagant every year."
I smiled faintly. "That's the illusion."
Abi tilted her head toward me, her grin widening. "And you, Meelan. You're beautiful,curvy,confident. You walk like you own the room, even if your life is... well, this." She gestured vaguely at the walls, the staff, the polished perfection.
I rolled my eyes. "Abi, stop."
"Nope," she said. "Facts. Your father could auction you tonight, and people would pay double just to look at you."
I laughed, though a pulse of unease ran through me. Abi always noticed everything I pretended didn't matter,the way I carried myself, the way I observed rather than participated. Tonight, that attention felt different.
Guests began arriving, a blur of suits, gowns, and carefully curated smiles. Conversations overlapped in a symphony of politeness and quiet competition. I moved through it all like I always did, standing by my father, nodding, smiling, observing, never speaking too much. A life caged in wealth but disciplined by rules, always measured.
And then I felt it.
A shift in the air. it was Subtle, magnetic and undeniable.
I turned toward the balcony doors.
He was there.
Tall, broad-shouldered, lean yet undeniably strong. One hand rested casually in his pocket, the other held a glass untouched. He wasn't moving, wasn't smiling, wasn't trying to be noticed. And yet... he commanded attention.
Our eyes met.
Everything else fell away: the music, the chatter, the distant clinking of glasses. My breath caught. My heart slammed against my ribs. The room shrank to a narrow corridor of light and shadow, him at the center.
He was handsomely dangerous not soft, flattering beauty, but the kind that made you aware of every detail. Dark hair swept back, strong jawline, high cheekbones, eyes like sharp knives softened by mystery. A mouth that hinted at charm and danger at once. He didn't smile, and yet I felt the pull of something I couldn't name.It was a mixture of fascination, fear, and something far too exciting.
I didn't move. ....In fact, I couldn't.
Abi's hand nudged my arm. "Meelan... who is that?"
I didn't answer. My voice caught in my throat. I couldn't explain it.
He didn't look away.
Neither did I.
The tension wasn't lust ,it was danger, power and inevitability. Something passed between us in a single look: awareness, curiosity, and the silent promise of chaos. My chest tightened. My pulse raced. I had never felt this before, and I had never wanted anything I couldn't have.
Abi leaned closer. "He's... unreal. You feel it too, right?"
I exhaled sharply, trying to focus. I had been raised to observe, to comply, to obey rules. Yet this man, this stranger, was breaking every rule my life had imposed.
My father's hand rested lightly on my shoulder. "Stay near me tonight," he said. Calm words, but firm and Protective . My father,Mr.Harlan didn't speak lightly; anyone he considered dangerous was noted, tracked, and judged.
And then I realized: Alaiz was already violating a rule my father enforced without exception.
No guest was ever allowed to linger near the daughters uninvited. No one approached too closely, no stranger dared to hold my gaze, and yet here he was unapologetic, unflinching, standing so close I could feel the weight of his presence across the room. My father had rules, strict, unbreakable, iron-clad and Alaiz had shattered the first one within minutes.
My pulse jumped. This wasn't just attraction; this was dangerous ,Reckless and Forbidden.
Abi whispered again, almost lost under the hum of the crowd, "Mark my words... tonight changes everything."
I nodded silently, my thoughts tangled. She could see the tension, the pull, the spark. She always noticed.
Minutes passed. Guests mingled, conversations drifted around me, but I remained fixated. He hadn't moved, hadn't interacted with anyone, yet his presence was absolute. Every subtle shift in his posture, every tilt of his head radiated control.
I wanted to step back. My instincts screamed it. But my body... my body betrayed me. It leaned forward, drawn like a moth to a flame that could burn me alive.
My father's eyes flicked toward Alaiz once, sharp and calculating. He didn't speak, but the warning in that glance froze me cold. Do not let him near you. Do not let him know he matters. Do not break the rules.
But rules had a funny way of falling apart when someone like him existed.
I felt the invisible chains around my life tightening just to resist him, and yet a tiny, reckless part of me thrilled at his audacity.
And then... he moved.
Not toward me, not openly. Just a tilt of his head, a subtle glance, and it was enough. Enough to make the air heavier, my heartbeat louder, the room smaller. His gaze swept the hall with quiet command, lingering where it pleased. I knew, without words, that he had already noticed everything about me. And he didn't care about my father's rules.
I wanted to tell Abi to step back. To leave me alone with him. My chest burned with the urge to act, to step, to speak, to touch but I couldn't. My father's presence was a weight , a warning and a chain.
Yet his stare was a promise he wouldn't not let go.
And then the night twisted in an instant.
The chandelier above the grand hall flickered ,a small, almost imperceptible tremor. Guests murmured, thinking it a minor fault in the wiring. But I knew better. Something had shifted, something unseen yet palpable, and Alaiz's gaze found me again, sharper this time, as if daring me to notice, to defy.
I realized, with a pang of both fear and exhilaration, that my life had irrevocably changed. The comfortable, safe, locked-in world I had known was already cracking. And in its cracks, he waited.
A hand slid lightly onto my shoulder,my father's but it did nothing to ease the fire building in my chest. His calm words could not contain the storm that had arrived uninvited.
Tonight... everything would break.
And I knew it.
Because the man who dared break my father's rules, who dared exist so close to me, had already staked a claim ,not on my body, not on my heart, but on my very attention, my very life.
And when our eyes met once more across the crowded hall, the world contracted to nothing but that dangerous, undeniable pull. I didn't know his name. I didn't know his intentions. I didn't know how to survive the night.
But I did know this: Alaiz would not let go.
And I... was powerless to resist.
Chapter 2 The night the world stopped .
Morning sunlight spilled across the marble floors, cutting thin lines across the hall as if the day itself were divided into shadows and light. I stood before the tall gilded mirror in my room, comb in hand, brushing my hair with slow, deliberate movements. Each stroke pulled the silky strands taut, a ritual I had performed a thousand times, yet today felt heavier, almost ceremonial.
The house was waking, the subtle creaks of polished wood, the faint hum of air-conditioning, the soft clink of silverware being polished in the kitchen. Even in silence, the weight of wealth pressed against me like a second skin. Every corner carried its own authority, and I had grown accustomed to moving carefully within it, never fully free.
I paused, lifting my eyes to my reflection. My curves, accentuated by the deep emerald silk nightdress, caught the morning light. Beauty had always been a tool in my world,a shield, a weapon, a burden. I had never wielded it for myself. Not yet. But a whisper of hope lingered somewhere deep, daring me to believe that maybe, soon, I could.
Abi's soft laughter came from the doorway, and I startled slightly. She leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, eyes sharp and mischievous. "You always look like you're preparing for war rather than a morning at home," she teased.
I smiled faintly, continuing to comb. "Every day feels like a battle here."
"That's because it is," she said, stepping closer. "And today isn't just any day. The anniversary of... everything."
I nodded, lowering the comb for a moment. Today marked twenty-five years since my father married my mother, and twenty-five years since tragedy had rewritten our lives. My mother had died delivering a cake for my father's forty-Second birthday. A moment meant to be joyous had become a wound that never healed. The house itself carried the memory in every polished surface and silent corridor.
Abi didn't speak immediately. She let the tension settle. "You look... different today," she said softly. "Like you feel the absence, the weight."
I ran the comb through my hair again, trying to smooth more than just the strands,trying to smooth the knot of emotions in my chest. "It never leaves," I murmured. "No matter how perfect everything looks."
Abi leaned closer, voice low. "Someone's here."
My pulse jumped even in the open morning light.The guy from last night . Standing tall, composed, hands in his pockets, watching silently. Our eyes met for a fleeting second, electric, and my heartbeat spiked.
Abi's grin widened knowingly. "Still thinking about last night?"
I exhaled slowly, lowering the comb to my lap. "It's impossible not to notice him."
"He notices you too," Abi said. "A man like that... he doesn't forget."
A knock came at my door, soft, careful. My father's voice followed. "Meelan. Breakfast."
I set the comb down, standing and smoothing my dress, letting my fingers brush the curves of my waist automatically. In this house, even small movements were observed. Appearance was authority.
Downstairs, the breakfast table was immaculate: crystal glasses, fine china, silver cutlery polished to a mirror shine. My father sat at the head, posture rigid, eyes distant but haunted. Today, the anniversary, weighed on him visibly. I watched his hands tighten around the edge of the table. Memories of my mother flickered across his gaze-the day she died, delivering that cake, her absence wrapped around every polished surface.
"Father," I said softly, taking my seat.
He looked at me for a brief moment, the harsh lines of his authority softened. "You have your mother's eyes, Meelan," he said quietly, voice weighted with memory. "The same brown warmth... the same strength hidden behind them. She would have been proud of you today."
My chest tightened. A mixture of grief and pride knotted in my throat. I had never felt such a compliment land so heavily yet so delicately. In that moment, I felt closer to her, to the mother I had never truly known.
Breakfast passed in tense silence. My father occasionally murmured about schedules, legacy, and responsibilities, but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in the memories of my mother. I watched him, understanding that grief had shaped the walls of my life more than wealth ever could.
And then....later that night.
A sleek black Cybertruck roared into the driveway, cutting through the morning stillness like a predator. My pulse jumped to my throat. He stepped out, tall and unflinching, the truck gleaming under the early sun. He had broken the cardinal rule of our home: no outsider, no visitor, no bold intrusion without invitation....I still didn't know his name .
Abi gasped. "He... he's here. Meelan-he's really here."
I didn't move, frozen, heart hammering. The rule was clear: any man not sanctioned by my father was forbidden from the property, especially after dark. Yet here he was, unbothered, violating every precaution, and worse... staring directly at me.
From the balcony, I caught my father's sharp, calculating gaze. His eyes narrowed, a silent warning. My stomach twisted. What had I done to deserve this madness, this audacious intrusion?
He's lips curved in a smirk. A voice, low but carrying across the hall, reached me.
"I want the world to know," he said, calm, dangerous, certain. "Meelan is forever mine.By the way I'm Alaiz Robbison"He said while he brushed his hair backwards with his left hands .
The words sank like fire. I felt heat, fear, longing, and something far too dangerous collided in my chest. My body trembled,partly from fear, partly from desire. My father's authority, my carefully contained life, the unspoken rules ,they all screamed that I should step back. Yet my pulse betrayed me. I wanted him. I wanted him so badly, I could taste the recklessness of it.
Abi's whisper was frantic. "Meelan... look at him! He's... he's serious."
I nodded numbly, trapped between terror and a growing ache I couldn't name. Alaiz's audacity had cut through every invisible wall in my life, and he stood at the edge of my control, daring me to fall.
The tension was almost unbearable when my father finally spoke, voice low, sharp: "Staff. Every servant. Escort him off the property. Now!!."
Time seemed to freeze. My heart pounded so loud I feared it might echo across the marble floors. Alaiz didn't flinch, not even a muscle,not an eyelid. He simply looked at me, his eyes full of challenge and promise, as if he would bend the world around him to make me his.
Abi's hand found mine, squeezing tightly. "Meelan... what do we do?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't even answer. My father's authority, the rule-breaking, the undeniable attraction.It all collided, leaving me breathless, terrified, and... wanting him more than I'd ever wanted anything.
Outside, the servants moved, their footsteps precise, echoing the command. Alaiz's smirk widened, almost triumphant, like a hunter who knew the prey was fully aware yet utterly powerless.
I took a step back, pressed my hands to my chest. "This... this isn't safe," I whispered to myself.
And yet, even as the staff approached him, my mind screamed another truth I couldn't deny: I had never been more alive than at this terrifying, exhilarating moment.
The air trembled, heavy with unspoken rules and audacious desire. Every glance, every movement, every heartbeat was a wire stretched taut between danger and need. Alaiz was not leaving, not really. And I... I was helpless to resist.
And then the house seemed to hold its breath. My father's authority, my mother's absence, Alaiz's defiance, and my own racing pulse.The perfect storm colliding in the grand hall.
The servants reached him. My father's voice commanded, sharp and unyielding: "Leave. Now."
Alaiz's gaze met mine one last time, electric, smoldering, certain. He didn't move yet. He didn't budge. And in that moment, a promise was sealed not with words, but with the fire of his intent.
.
Chapter 3 The lady who answered the door .
I didn't know why my heart beat faster every time his name crossed my thoughts. I didn't even know him. Yet somehow, Alaiz had already carved a space in my mind,quiet, persistent, and unsettling.
That morning, the house buzzed with the unusual energy of anticipation and anxiety. My father's voice cut through breakfast like it always did: calm, precise, and unyielding.
"I'll be leaving the country tonight," he announced, folding his napkin with surgical precision. "Paris. A meeting that can't be postponed."
I paused mid-sip. "Tonight?"
He nodded. "I'll return before the month ends."
I swallowed, feeling the familiar tightness crawl through my chest. His trips always brought this mixture of relief and unease: freedom wrapped in anxiety. "You'll miss my birthday," I murmured softly.
His eyes lifted to mine ,sharp but softened slightly by something I couldn't name. "When I return, we'll celebrate properly. Twenty years deserves something memorable."
I sighed, frustration tugging at me. "You always say that."
"And I always keep my word," he replied firmly.
Abi nudged my foot under the table, warning me to stop before my irritation slipped further. But I couldn't help it. My life had always been postponed always "later," "someday," when the time was right.
After breakfast, the house swirled with departure energy: suitcases, hushed instructions, calls to staff, meticulous checks of schedules. I retreated to my room, hoping to find a moment of peace before the walls closed in again.
That's when my phone buzzed. A message from Abi.
Abi: Guess what? I just heard something interesting.
I typed back lazily. "If it's not entertaining, save it."
Something twisted inside me irrational, sharp, unwelcome. I didn't even know what she was about to say, but it felt urgent, dangerous. I shook it off, ridiculously, trying not to give it weight.
Night fell, and with it, my mind refused rest. I lay on my bed, scrolling idly through my phone, the dim glow reflecting off the walls. My hair was loose around my shoulders, my body heavy with restless thoughts. And then it happened.
A soft, deliberate tap against my window.
I frowned at first and then again I heard another tap, closer and more intentional. My pulse spiked. Crossing the room carefully, I pulled the curtain aside. A shadow stood beneath the glass. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Handsome in a way that made my breath catch.
Alaiz.
Before I could react, a small stone bounced lightly against the glass controlled, intentional, not reckless. I opened the window just enough to see his face clearly.
He didn't speak.
Instead, he held a folded piece of paper.
I hesitated only a second before taking it. He gave a brief nod and then vanished into the darkness.
My hands trembled as I unfolded the note:
"I don't know you, but I know your eyes. And they haunt me."
No name, No signature, Just truth. Dangerous, intimate, impossible to ignore.
I grabbed a pen, shaking, and wrote back:
"You don't know me, but you found me anyway. My name is Meelan."
I folded it and dropped it out the window. He caught it effortlessly. Our eyes met for a heartbeat. Then he was gone.I couldn't sleep that night ,everytime I closed my eyes he also appeared .
The next evening, curiosity and something I couldn't resist betrayed me.I decided to sneak out to have a chit chat with Alaiz . Abi insisted on accompanying me even if she didn't like the idea buh she had to.As I stood before Alaiz's gate. Nerves danced beneath my skin.
"You're acting like you're about to commit a crime," she teased.
"Maybe I am," I muttered.
The door opened before we could knock. And that's when I saw her.
Aris.
She leaned casually against the doorframe, barefoot, wearing a loose, thin fabric that hugged her curves with calculated confidence. She radiated a dangerous ease, as if the house belonged to her, as if she owned every glance and every room.
Her hair fell in effortless waves down her back, lips curved into a smile that was all amusement and warning. There was no warmth, no welcome just ownership.
Although Dad never introduced Aris to me but deep down I knew she was the lady he had brought home .
Few years back he told me he was seeing someone.
"You're the girl," she said lightly, eyes assessing me like a predator evaluating a rival.
I froze. Every instinct screamed that she was trouble. And from the tension in the air, I could feel that Alaiz's presence hovered somewhere deeper inside, commanding the house even in his absence.
"Meelan," I whispered, voice softer than intended.
Her smile widened, sharp and knowing. "Oh, so you're the one. How... quaint."
The words were loaded, heavy with challenge. Every syllable pressed against my chest, igniting tension and unspoken threats. I felt small under her gaze, yet defiant.
"Are you always so... unfriendly?" I asked carefully, keeping my voice steady.
"Not unfriendly," she replied. "Just realistic. Some things in life... you don't get to walk in and claim what isn't yours."
My stomach twisted. Every word felt aimed at me, at the claim Alaiz had made the night before, and at the invisible thread that had already begun to pull me toward him.
Emmilia, his cousin, appeared behind Aris's shoulder, her gaze flicking over me with curiosity and amusement. Her eyes lingered, and I could feel the tension in the air. She had always admired Alaiz quietly, perhaps secretly, and now I was the intruder in a tangled web I hadn't even known existed.
As I stepped forward hesitantly, Aris leaned a little closer. Bare skin brushed the doorframe like she had nothing to hide, nothing to fear. I realized too late that I hadn't just walked into Alaiz's house,I had walked straight into danger.
Abi muttered under her breath, "Oh no. This is... bad."
"Why?" I hissed.
"She's Emmilia. Dangerous and Possessive. And she hates anyone who looks at Alaiz the wrong way."
My stomach tightened. Every rule, every wall I had built seemed to crumble in her presence.
The night dragged on with conversation layered over tension. Emillia smiled at everything Alaiz had ever done or said, an invisible crown of power around her. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only observe. Every glance, every smirk, every subtle gesture carried a threat.
Then the next morning, as dawn touched the estate, someone came to pick up the Cybertruck Alaiz had left the night before. My heart leapt and fell in the same beat. The driver handed me a folded note before he left.
"Meelan, don't think last night was a mistake. I'll see you soon."
No signature, no hint. Just a promise, sharp as a blade, and impossible to ignore.
The day unfolded slowly, suffused with tension. Aris moved like a shadow in the house, her presence pressing against mine with unspoken warnings. Every word she spoke carried subtle poison, every smile a reminder that she was not my friend.
Abi tried to lighten the mood, but even she couldn't pierce the thick fog of hostility and desire surrounding me.
By late afternoon, my father, sensing my agitation, issued an order in his precise, controlled way:
"Driver, take Meelan around the estate. Let her clear her mind."
I obeyed silently, stepping into the car, trying to untangle the knot of fear, attraction, and jealousy that had taken root inside me. The drive wound through the sprawling grounds, sunlight flickering through trees, the estate's edges stretching endlessly.
And then, through the window of another estate on the horizon, I saw something that made my stomach drop. Alaiz... and Emmilia were having a passionate intense kiss, their bodies close, their faces pressed together in a moment of passion and possession.
Everything inside me shattered,desire, jealousy, fear, confusion. And yet, buried under it all, a pulse of something I couldn't deny: I wanted him even more.i felt broken.
The car moved silently, Abi beside me, sensing my sudden tension but wisely remaining silent. The estate stretched on, quiet except for the soft hum of the engine. The world felt heavy, loaded with rules, forbidden desire, and danger.
And I knew, deep down, that the storm had only just begun.