The door creaked open under Annalise's hand, and as she stepped into the hallway, her breath caught. The corridor stretched endlessly, lined with polished obsidian floors that reflected the golden chandeliers above. Crimson and gold tapestries hung from the high vaulted ceilings, embroidered with coats of arms she didn't recognize. The air smelled faintly of roses and old wood, like a place frozen in elegance and time. How had her father amassed this kind of wealth in such a short time? And why did it all feel so—inhuman?
Her footsteps echoed softly as she walked, the silk of the pale lavender dress clinging to her form. Even the fabric screamed money. As she turned a corner, she brushed past a marble bust of an old man with cruel eyes, the kind of detail that made this place feel more like a museum than a home.
Her mind reeled with questions. Her father—a vampire? How was that even possible? And more than that, what the hell was her mother doing here? Nothing made sense anymore.
She spotted a servant dressed in a deep blue uniform, dusting a gilded mirror.
"Where is Aston?" she asked.
The servant bowed slightly and replied in a soft voice, "He awaits you in the dining hall, madam. This way, please."
With a sharp nod, Annalise followed the directions given, each step tightening the knot of anxiety in her chest. Her fists clenched at her sides as she walked. A hundred doors lined the walls, closed and mysterious, and the whole mansion seemed alive, like it watched her.
When she pushed open the ornate double doors to the dining room, her stomach turned. The hall was enormous, with a long, gleaming mahogany table stretching nearly the length of the room. A chandelier of black crystal hung overhead, casting a soft, eerie glow.
Aston stood at the head of the table, his lips curling into a smug smile the moment he saw her.
Pride. That was the emotion gleaming in his eyes. Like she was some priceless artifact to show off. He needed her face, that much was clear.
But Annalise didn't care about him—her eyes searched the room until they landed on her mother.
Sabine.
She sat stiffly at the far end of the table, her face pale and eyes filled with worry. The moment she saw Annalise, she stood up, chair scraping against the floor.
"Annalise, my love," she whispered and rushed toward her.
Annalise met her halfway, almost collapsing into her arms. Her mother smelled like lavender and soap, familiar and safe, and Annalise's eyes welled up.
"Are you alright?" Sabine whispered into her hair.
Annalise wanted to scream no, to confess the chains, the fear, the vampires. But when her eyes flicked toward Aston, she saw him watching her with a dark glint, daring her.
She forced a smile. "I'm fine, Mama. See? I'm even dressed in a beautiful gown."
Sabine pulled back slightly and cupped her face, looking for any hidden pain in her daughter's eyes. She smiled, uncertain but relieved.
A servant stepped forward and gestured for them to sit. They obeyed.
Annalise slid into the chair beside her mother, but her gaze never stopped scanning the others at the table.
Aston sat at the head, posture relaxed, as if he hadn't recently chained his daughter in a dark room. Beside him sat a woman Annalise had seen at the gala—the one with eyes as sharp as daggers and lips painted in blood red. Her features were mature but graceful, skin like porcelain, hair dark and smooth, pulled back into a low chignon. She wore a midnight velvet dress with an emerald pendant that gleamed at her throat.
And beside her sat a girl.
The girl couldn't have been older than Annalise—perhaps the same age. She had the same bone structure as Aston, a sharp chin, and calculating gray eyes. Her dark hair fell in sleek waves over her shoulder, and she wore a fitted black dress that made her look like a doll sculpted from obsidian.
"Good morning, everyone," Aston said cheerfully, as if they were some big happy family.
Sabine nodded politely, and Annalise mimicked her.
The food was brought in quickly—silver domes lifted to reveal delicacies Annalise didn't recognize. Roasted duck glazed with dark cherries, truffle-scented potatoes, and golden pastries filled with custard.
Neither Annalise nor Sabine touched the food.
"Ah," Aston began, his smirk returning. "Almost forgot introductions."
He gestured toward them, "This is my ex-wife, Sabine, and my beautiful daughter, Annalise."
Then he turned to the women beside him.
"And here," he said proudly, "are my wife, Alessandra, and my daughter, Wendy."
Annalise nearly choked.
Wife? Daughter?
Her gaze shot back and forth between the two. Alessandra looked older than her mother. Her eyes were hollow, calm, too calm. And Wendy—how could Aston have a daughter her age?
Everything in her screamed to run.
But she stayed.
She forced herself to eat, barely tasting the food, just pushing it down her throat. Her only goal now was simple: leave with her mother.
As soon as the last plate was cleared, Annalise stood up. Sabine followed suit.
"Well, we'll be leaving now," Sabine announced politely, brushing a hand over Annalise's arm.
But Aston's voice cut through the air, firm. "No. The both of you can't leave."
Sabine turned toward him, arching a brow.
Aston quickly softened his tone, pasting on a smile. "I meant to say, I would love for Annalise to stay with me."
"I don't want to," Annalise blurted out, her voice sharp.
Aston kept smiling. "You can't leave, Annalise."
She glared at him, hands curling into fists at her sides. Sabine narrowed her eyes.
"Why?" she asked, clearly confused.
Aston shrugged lightly, his eyes not leaving Annalise. "Because I want the both of you to spend the night here. Just one night. Please, Sabine. I'm sure Alessandra won't mind."
Alessandra gave a tight smile. "Of course, not at all."
Sabine glanced at Alessandra, then to Wendy, whose expression was unreadable, and finally to her daughter. Maybe… maybe it wouldn't be so bad for Annalise to know her step-sister, even if the idea left a bitter taste.
She sighed. "Only for the night."
Aston nodded. "Perfect."
Annalise stayed frozen, every cell in her body screaming that this was a trap. But she bit her tongue.
Because she understood now. Her father didn't want her mother to know what he had done. He was playing a role, and for her mother's sake, Annalise had to play along—for now.
But she would find a way out. No matter what.
Even if it meant destroying every dark hallway of this cursed mansion to do it.