"Their Queen, Their Captive"

Chapter 3: The Ghosts in Their Hearts

If the wedding day had been the beginning of a nightmare, the days that followed were slow, excruciating torture. Time stretched thin inside the gilded walls of the mansion—each second a reminder that I no longer belonged to myself.

The mornings belonged to silence. The afternoons were steeped in tension. And the nights? The nights were unbearable.

I barely slept that first night, flinching at every sound in the hallway, at the footsteps that stopped outside my door but never entered. Which of them would it be first? That thought curled around my brain like smoke until I couldn't breathe.

But it wasn't footsteps that woke me the next morning.

It was a voice.

Leo and the Photo

I'd barely stepped into the hallway when I heard Leo's cold tone echoing through the house.

"You don't bring her name into this house again."

I froze. The door to his study was slightly ajar. From where I stood, I could see the edge of his desk, neat and polished as everything about him. And on the desk, sitting like a silent accusation, was a photograph.

I crept closer, my breath caught in my chest. A woman's face stared back at me from the frame—beautiful, smiling, alive in a way I would never be. Long blond hair, warm brown eyes. She looked... happy.

"Do you understand me?" Leo snapped.

"Yes, sir," came another voice—one of his men, probably.

Leo grabbed the frame, and for a brief second, I thought he might smash it. Instead, he turned it face-down on the desk. His expression, usually so calculated and composed, looked raw. I stepped back before he could notice me watching.

The door opened suddenly, and there he was.

"What are you doing here?" His eyes bore into me, ice overlaid with something else—something darker.

"I—I was going downstairs," I stammered.

"Then go," he said sharply. His shoulders stiffened, and his tone dropped lower. "And don't ever enter my study without permission."

Adrian's Fury

The mansion's library became my refuge, a place where I could almost pretend I was invisible. I wasn't sure if I belonged there—books seemed too fragile to exist in a place like this—but I needed the illusion of escape.

I was flipping through an old book when the door swung open.

"Of course, you'd be in here," Adrian said.

His voice startled me, the sound of it rough and annoyed. I looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, his storm-gray eyes fixed on me.

"You scared me," I muttered, setting the book aside.

"Good," he said, stepping inside. "Fear suits you."

He walked closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, but something about him felt... off. His grin was missing. His arrogance had sharpened into something crueler.

"What is it now?" I asked, annoyed despite myself.

He stopped in front of me, his gaze locking onto mine. "You ever hear the name Valeria?"

The way he said it made my stomach twist.

"No," I replied softly.

"Of course you haven't," Adrian said, his voice dripping with venom. "Valeria was everything to me. She had my heart, my loyalty—until you showed up."

I blinked, stunned. "Me?"

"You," he snapped. "This marriage. This alliance. The moment your father sold you off like cattle, I had to let her go."

Adrian laughed bitterly, running a hand through his silver hair. "Do you know what that does to a man? Having to look into the eyes of the woman you love and tell her you can't have her anymore—because of you?"

"It's not my fault," I whispered, shaking my head. "I didn't ask for this."

"Maybe not," Adrian said, his voice softening just enough to make me uneasy. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing a lock of hair from my face. "But you'll make up for it. One way or another."

His touch lingered before he turned and walked out, leaving the room colder than before.

Nico's Silence

By evening, I'd retreated to the garden. I needed air, and I'd learned that staying inside only invited trouble. The garden was sprawling and dark, lit only by lanterns along the paths.

I found Nico there, sitting on a bench with a book in his hands. He didn't acknowledge me as I approached, so I stayed silent, content to sit a few feet away on the grass.

Minutes passed, maybe hours. Finally, Nico closed his book with a soft snap.

"You're quieter than I thought you'd be," he said.

I looked up. "I don't see much point in talking."

"That's smart," he said, his green eyes focused on the ground. "Talking never did anyone any good."

The lantern light reflected off his face, and I realized how tired he looked. Not physically, but deeper—like someone who'd carried too much for too long.

"Who was she?" I asked softly.

For the first time, Nico looked at me—really looked at me. "Who?"

"The woman you lost."

His jaw tightened. He didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, nearly a whisper.

"Her name was Emilia," he said. "She deserved better than me. Better than this."

"She left because of me, didn't she?"

His gaze hardened, the brief softness vanishing. "She left because of this marriage. Because of the life I couldn't promise her anymore."

I didn't know what to say. There was nothing I could say.

"You shouldn't ask questions like that," he said after a moment. "You won't like the answers."

He stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow over me as he walked away, leaving me alone in the garden.

The Truth of It

That night, I stared at the ceiling of my room, the walls pressing in tighter with every breath. I could still feel Leo's icy stare, Adrian's rage, Nico's silence.

Their words rattled in my mind like chains.

Valeria.

Emilia.

Three men. Three ghosts. And I was the villain in their story.

They'd hate me forever for what I represented: the end of what they loved, the death of what they wanted.

And in their hatred, they would break me if they could.

But as I curled beneath the blanket, fists clenched tight, I made myself another promise.

If they wanted a villain, I would give them one.