I watch helplessly as Seth walks away, my whole body shaking in anger.

What the hell just happened?

I want to run toward Seth and pummel him until he tells me everything and lets me go. Hell, I’d settle for letting me go at this point. I’d walk away and never look back, but only after reporting him to the authorities.

But I know that’s not going to work. I’m a tough woman, sure. I’ve survived lots of hardship in my life and I’ve struggled to get to where I am in life.

I’m strong, but not in that way. There’s no way I can bring enough physical pain to a big, muscular man like Seth to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

He’s way too strong for me to fight, and he’s way too rich for me to have anything to offer in return for my freedom. I… There’s really nothing I can do. I can’t think of anything that can get me out of this situation.

The marble under my bare feet grows warm from my body heat. Seth takes a turn at the end of the long hallway and disappears. The luxurious corridor is now empty, except for me.

Without anyone around me, I can almost imagine that none of this has happened, that the past twenty-four hours of my life didn’t really happen.

When I look back into my room, though, and see the empty bowl from before, I can’t remain in denial.

I’m a prisoner now, a bird with clipped wings, kept in a beautiful gilded cage.

I decide to make the most of whatever freedom I still have. At least I don’t have to stay inside my room anymore. I can roam, within the premises, as Seth said.

My blood boils within me. The adrenaline coursing through my system is trying to convince me it’s a good idea to fight, or to flee, but my rational mind knows neither option is possible.

I need to calm down and come up with some kind of a plan.

Right now, my plan basically consists of: I’m not cooking for Seth. That is all.

Obviously I’m not going to succeed in starving him to death, so that really doesn’t do much beyond satisfying my urge for petty revenge.

Still, if I’m being held here against my will, I need to start thinking of myself as a prisoner, rather than as house staff.

So he thinks letting me go on a week-long trip is too much of an inconvenience for him? Well, now he won’t ever taste my cooking again.

Maybe it’s a little arrogant of me to think he’ll miss it, but I think he genuinely likes my cooking, as he has demonstrated through his spaghetti carbonara.

I hate saying this, but the pasta was seriously good. And it was obviously my recipe.

Where the hell did a guy like Seth learn how to cook? The man has people waiting on him hand and foot. People are literally waiting around all day just in case he needs them to doing something for him.

I find it hard to imagine him referring to some recipe online while he works over a stove, wearing an apron over his impeccable business suit.

To be fair, when I was cooking for him, someone else bought the ingredients for me. All I had to do was write down a shopping list and everything would magically appear in the kitchen, already stored and neatly organized.

There was that one time when I asked Anthony to take me into town to buy something specific. But other than that, it’s crazy how every little job is already assigned to someone here.

Come to think of it, maybe it wasn’t that someone was doing the grocery shopping for me. Maybe Seth made it that way so I wouldn’t ever leave the house, except when one of his trusted men, like Anthony, could come with me to keep me in line.

Mystery upon mystery upon mystery. Is there anything Seth does that is just normal and straightforward?

I step outside the mansion and take a deep breath. At least I can still take a stroll in the outdoors, thanks to the massive size of this property.

Funny. When I thought I was free to leave any time, I didn’t really feel like venturing outside. I was content enough to check out the well-stocked library and sit at the balcony, watching the burly men in black walking to and fro on the green grass.

As I pass by one of those men, he nods at me solemnly. I wonder if he just has a serious face, or if he feels sorry for me because I’m trapped here.

Does he know I’m being kept here against my will? Does everyone in the house know?

From the way Ana acted last night, that seems to be the case.

So everyone knows Seth is basically taking me hostage, and they’re not doing anything to stop him. It’s crazy what you can make people do if you just pay them enough money.

Droplets of rainwater cling onto the blades of grass, dripping onto the top part of my feet that aren’t covered by my flats. The soil feels soft under my soles after the light drizzle this afternoon.

I hear footsteps behind me and look over my shoulder to see the man in black from before. He’s following me, I realize.

I don’t know why that surprises me. Perhaps because I was hoping someone would help me get out of here just because that would be the decent thing to do. Alas, everyone I’ve come across so far obeys Seth dutifully—even sweet, innocent-looking Ana.

I guess they get paid just as well as I did. I wonder if I’m ever going to see any of that money he promised me.

I hear the cracking of joints behind me, and turn around to quickly give my shadow a dirty look. That sound has always made me cringe. If he’s going to follow me around, he could at least have the courtesy of staying quiet so I can pretend I’m alone and free.

He’s speaking into a microphone that has been attached to the collar of his black T-shirt, but he keeps his eyes on me. He’s reporting my movements to someone. Seth, perhaps. Or another one of the guards.

So that’s what the guards are for. They’re not here to prevent robbers from getting in. They’re here to keep prisoners from getting out. Much like the borders of North Korea, the gates and fences around this vast property are meant for preventing defection.

At least the dictator here is compassionate enough to not let me die of hunger. He even cooked me some pasta. Food is the least of my worries here, apparently.

A wry chuckle escapes my mouth as I imagine Seth wearing an apron again, the floral pattern and lace clashing with his crisp, formal business suit.

I reach the fountain that I usually watch from the balcony and walk right up to the edge. I don’t know what I expect to see, but it’s not this.

The water is clear enough, and the fountain is obviously well taken care of. But close up, I can see the pipes and the jets, which kind of destroy the magic of the fountain.

I take a seat on the stone edge of the fountain and look toward the mansion, searching for my usual reading spot. Instead, I see Seth on a different balcony.

There’s probably about a hundred yards between us—I can’t be sure as I’ve never been very good as estimating distance—but I can see him looking right at me, and I can see his lips moving.

Is he speaking to himself?

I squint and spot the phone in his hand. That makes sense. The guard probably told Seth about me being here, and he came out to watch me, like I’m some kind of a court jester, here to entertain the king of the castle.

I can’t believe I ever thought he was attractive. God, I even fantasized about him that one night.

I mean, yeah, I can’t deny that he’s hot. But the fact that he’s keeping me prisoner here kind of negates his good looks.

I hold up both my hands and give Seth two middle fingers. I know it’s childish and it wouldn’t accomplish anything. I don’t even know if he can see my fingers from all the way up there.

But what can I say? I need to get back at him in some way, and I can’t really think of one good idea. I’m completely helpless and vulnerable, and I literally have no idea how to get myself out of this predicament.