The name in the back of the book was simple.

Elias.

No last name. Just a phone number with an area code I didn't recognize.

I stared at it until the ink blurred.

Who are you? I wondered. And why did Dad keep you hidden on the very last page?

The lock clicked again.

I shoved the journal under my mattress. I kept the blue sweater on. It was bulky and hot over the other one, but I didn't care. It was mine.

Anya stood in the doorway. She looked at my sweater. She looked at the way I was breathing too fast.

"You look like a crazy person," she said.

"I feel like a crazy person," I snapped. "Are you here to take my shoes now? Maybe my hair?"

Anya rolled her eyes. She stepped into the room and signaled for me to follow.

"Mr. Volkov wants you to acclimatize. That's rich-person talk for looking at all the stuff you can't touch."

"I thought I was locked in."

"You are. But I'm the one with the key for the next hour. Come on. Move."

We walked out into the hallway.

The mansion felt bigger than it did last night. It was all glass and stone. It felt like walking through a giant's ribcage...

Everything was too clean. Too quiet.

"Why is it so empty?" I asked. My voice echoed off the marble.

"Mr Volkov doesn't like people," Anya said. She walked fast. I had to jog to keep up. "He says people make noise  and people leave fingerprints."

I looked up. In every corner, there was a camera.

He's watching. He's always watching.

"Does he see everything?" I whispered.

Anya slowed down. She stopped in front of a massive painting of a storm at sea. She didn't look at the painting. She looked at the floor.

"Not everything," she said softly.

She pointed to a small alcove behind a marble pillar. The lighting was dim there.

"The architecture is old in some places," she said. Her voice was barely a breath. "The cameras are new. They can't see around corners. And they don't see shadows."

My heart jumped.

A dead zone.

I looked at the alcove. It was small. Just a spot to hide for a second. But it was a start.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

Anya straightened her apron. She went back to her grumpy mask.

"Because you look like you're going to scream if you don't find a place to breathe. And if you scream, I get yelled at. Move."

We kept walking.

I started to count...

Ten steps from the bedroom door to the first camera.

Turn left. Fifteen steps to the glass gallery.

I was mapping it because I wasn't a guest anymore. I was a prisoner planning a break.

Door. Camera. Pillar. Dead zone.

We passed a room with floor-to-ceiling windows. I could see the driveway. I could see the gates.

"That's the Main Wing," Anya said, pointing to a dark hallway. "Don't go there. Ever. Marcus handles that side. He's not as nice as me."

"Marcus is the brick wall, right?"

Anya almost smiled. "Yeah. The brick wall"

We reached the library. It was two stories high. Thousands of books lined the walls.

"Can I come in here?" I asked. I reached for a leather-bound book.

"No," Anya said. She grabbed my wrist. "Rule number six. You stay in the West Wing. This is the border."

I looked at the books. They were so close.

"He has all these books and he doesn't read them?"

"He reads numbers, Liora. He reads contracts."

I looked at the hallway leading to the Main Wing. It looked like a tunnel into a mountain.

Elias.

I needed to know who that was. I needed to know if he could help me.

But I needed a phone that wasn't tapped. A way to talk without Darian listening.

"Anya," I said. My voice was shaky. "Is there a phone in the kitchen? A landline?"

Anya stopped. She looked at me like I was an idiot.

"There hasn't been a landline in this house for ten years. Everything is digital. Everything is logged."

"What about yours?"

"I don't have one," she said. She looked bitter. "Staff phones stay in the lockers at the gate. We're in the bubble, too."

I felt the walls closing in again.

We turned another corner. I saw a small door tucked under a staircase.

"What's in there?"

"Storage," Anya said.

I looked up. No camera. The ceiling was too low for a dome.

Another dead zone.

I memorized the location. Under the stairs. Near the library border.

"Okay," I said. "I've seen enough glass. Take me back."

Anya looked at me. She saw the change in my eyes. I wasn't slumped anymore. I was thinking.

"Don't do anything stupid, Liora," she warned. "He's smarter than you think."

"He thinks I'm an asset," I said. "He thinks I'm a greenhouse. He's the one being stupid."

We walked back to the West Wing.

The silence didn't feel heavy anymore. It felt like an opportunity.

Anya locked me back in my suite.

"Lunch in ten minutes," she said through the door.

I didn't answer.

I went straight to the bed and pulled out the journal.

I stared at the name Elias.

If there were dead zones, there was a way to move.

If there was a way to move, there was a way to find out the truth about my father.

And if Darian was watching the cameras, I just had to make sure I wasn't where the cameras were.

I looked at the black phone on the nightstand.

His said he is busy.

"Fine," I whispered.

I looked at the red light on the camera. It was back on.

I stood up and walked right to the center of the room.

I pulled off my father's navy sweater. I folded it neatly.

Then I looked at the lens.

I didn't say a word. I just sat on the bed and started to read a book I didn't care about.

I was playing the part.

But in my head, I was counting the steps to the door.

One. Two. Three.

I wasn't going to be his masterpiece.

I was going to be the glitch in his perfect system.

The phone buzzed again.

I didn't pick it up.

Let him wait.

I felt a cold, sharp spark of hope.

It was dangerous. It was probably a mistake.

But it was the only thing keeping me from screaming.

I looked at the door. I knew the schedule now.

I knew the layout.

Now, I just needed to know who Elias was.

And I needed to know why Darian was so afraid of a dead man's daughter.

The afternoon dragged. I spent most of it staring at the ceiling, waiting for the door to open. 

In this house, you don't wait for things to happen; you wait for people to let you exist.

The lock eventually turned with a heavy thunk.

It wasn't Anya. Three people in white coats walked in and they didn't look like the friendly nurses at the community clinic. They looked like they belonged in a high-end tech lab. They were carrying silver cases and tablets.

"Good afternoon, Liora," the man in the lead said. He didn't offer a name. "We are here for the initial baseline. We need to establish your physical stats before the next phase."

"I did the vitals this morning," I said, sitting up. I felt a little defensive, but I tried to keep my voice steady. I didn't want to give them a reason to call Marcus.

"That was a surface check," the woman said. She was snapping on blue gloves. The sound was sharp. "This is about biology. We need blood work, a full physical, and a nutritional panel."

They didn't even wait for me to agree. They just started setting up on the marble vanity. It felt weird seeing medical equipment next to my hairbrush.

"Sit on the edge of the bed, please," the lead doctor said.

I did what I was told. I felt like a kid at the school nurse, except the stakes were a lot higher. I watched them pull out several small glass tubes.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"Hormonal mapping," he replied. He wasn't even looking at me; he was looking at his screen. 

"Mr. Volkov wants a clear picture of your health. We need to know exactly how your body reacts to the supplements."

"It reacts fine," I muttered. "I've never even had a cavity."

The doctors didn't laugh. They didn't even crack a smile. They just worked in silence. The woman wrapped a cuff around my arm to find a vein.

"I want to see my mom," I said. It wasn't a scream or a demand...Just a statement. "Xavier said she was stable, but I want to see the monitor. Just for a second."

The lead doctor paused. He tapped a button on his tablet. "I'll check the permissions."

I waited. My heart was thumping a little harder, but I stayed still. I didn't want to be "difficult." I just wanted to see my mum.

A moment later, he turned the tablet toward me. It was a live video feed. It was grainy and the colors were a bit washed out, but I saw her. She was lying in a hospital bed, her eyes closed. There were wires and tubes, but the machine next to her was showing a steady green line.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound was faint, but it was there.

"She's sleeping," the doctor said.

"She looks peaceful," I whispered. I felt a lump in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I couldn't afford to get messy right now.

He turned the tablet away. "Ten seconds. That's the limit for now. Now, let's get this blood draw over with."

I held out my arm. I looked at the window while the needle went in. I watched a bird land on the stone wall outside. It looked at the barbed wire and then flew away. I wished I could do the same.

The woman drew four tubes of blood. It felt like a lot, but I didn't complain. I just wanted them to finish and leave.

"Your iron is a bit low," she noted, looking at a quick-read sensor. "We'll adjust your morning drink. Make sure you finish the whole glass tomorrow."

"It tastes like a lawnmower," I said.

"It's a requirement," she replied.

They spent another twenty minutes checking my reflexes and my breathing. They treated me like a car getting a tune-up and they didn't ask how I was feeling or if the room was comfortable. They just gathered their data.

When they were done, they packed everything back into their silver cases.

"The results will be sent to Mr. Volkov's office tonight," the lead doctor said. "Try to get some rest. Your body needs to stay relaxed for the process to work."

"I'll try," I said.

They walked out, and I heard the lock engage again.

I was alone. The room felt even bigger than before. I walked over to the vanity and moved my hairbrush back to where it belonged. I hated that they had touched my things.

I went to the bed and pulled my father's blue sweater closer to me. I didn't put it on yet; I just held the sleeve but It felt real. The doctors and the silk and the cameras felt like a fever dream-a weird, expensive dream that I couldn't wake up from.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Darian: The doctors say you were cooperative. Good. It makes things easier for everyone.

I stared at the text.And no,I didn't feel good about it. I felt like I had just passed a test I didn't want to take.

I laid back on the bed and looked at the camera. I didn't glare at it this time. I was just tired.

"I saw her, Dad," I whispered to the empty room. "She's okay for now."

I closed my eyes. The house was quiet. No sirens, no rain on the city streets, no chatter from the diner. Just the hum of the air conditioning.

I thought about the list of rules. I thought about the "dead zones" Anya mentioned.

Tomorrow, I would go to the garden. I would walk the paths and count the steps. I would be the perfect asset on the outside, but on the inside, I was going to keep my father's secrets safe.

I drifted off to sleep with the taste of that green juice still in the back of my throat. It was a long way from the life I knew, but as long as Mom's heart was beating, I could handle the white coats.

I just had to keep playing the game.

Four days. 

That's how long it took for the walls to start moving in. It was four days of green juice, four days of silent meals, and four days of being poked by people who didn't even know my last name. 

I felt like I was disappearing into the architecture of the house. The West Wing was beautiful, but it was a desert where there were no voices and no mess...Every morning, I woke up and counted the steps in my room, and every afternoon, I walked the garden and counted the bricks in the wall. I was becoming a machine, and the thought that I needed to see something real...a person who wasn't a statue and hit me during lunch.

I stared at the bowl of expensive ass soup on my table, which was perfectly seasoned but also incredibly boring! I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. I didn't even wait for Anya or a signal from the staff. I just walked out of the dining nook and toward the long hallway that led to the library, the place Anya called the border.

 I felt my heart start to thud in a fast, messy rhythm and my mind told me not to do it, to just go back to my room, but I told myself I wasn't a dog...

I kept walking until I reached the library where the thousands of books stood like a wall and Noo! I didn't stop there. I crossed the threshold into the dark hallway Anya had warned me about....the Main Wing. The air felt different here; it was colder and smelled like old wood and expensive cigars. 

The marble under my feet changed from white to a dark, veined grey. I took ten steps, then twenty, waiting for a siren to go off or for the house to scream, but there was only silence. I reached a set of massive, black double doors that were taller than me. I reached for the handle, my hand shaking with the thought of the monster being home...

Before my fingers could touch the metal, a shadow moved. It was fast and heavy. A hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around so quickly I gasped, stumbling back as my sneakers squeaked on the stone. It was Marcus. He didn't say a word, just stood there blocking the doors in a black suit that looked like it was holding back a mountain of muscle. His face was blank and he didn't even look angry; he just looked like a stone wall.

"Step back Miss Hayes ," he said, his voice deep enough to vibrate in my chest.

"I wanted to see the rest of the house," I said, hating how small my voice sounded.

"You belong in the West Wing."

"I'm not a piece of furniture, Marcus. I can walk where I want." I tried to push past him, but it was like trying to push a skyscraper. He didn't move or even lean.

"The Main Wing is restricted," he insisted.

"By who? Darian?"

"By the contract you signed."

I felt a surge of heat in my face as I told him the contract said I lived here, not that I was a prisoner in one wing. ..Marcus just told me safety was the priority. I asked him what he was protecting me from...the hallway or the curtains and lunged to the left to dodge him. He moved with a speed that didn't make sense for a man his size and blocked me again. He didn't touch me this time, but he was so close I could feel the heat radiating off him. He told me to go back now, but I stood my ground and refused to look away.

The heavy doors behind him groaned as they opened with a sound like a thunderclap. I looked up and saw Darian standing there. He wasn't wearing a suit today, just a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked tired and hot....Um I mean dangerous. 

His blue eyes landed on me, and the tension from the camera-stare on that first night came rushing back as a physical weight that made it hard to breathe...

"Marcus," Darian said, his voice too calm. "Leave us."

Marcus nodded and walked away into the shadows without looking at me. Now it was just me and the man who bought my life. Darian stepped forward and didn't stop until he was only a foot away, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him.

"You're a long way from home, Liora," he said.

"I'm bored, Darian," I snapped. "And I'm tired of being locked in."

"The doors were open," he pointed out. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be standing here."

I told him the doors to my room were locked at night and the maids treated me like a hazard. Darian looked at my shoulder for a long time and told me Marcus didn't touch me that hard because he was watching the feed. 

I asked him what he was hiding in this half of the house, dead bodies or the rest of his soul, and his lip curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. He told me there were things in this wing I wasn't ready to see, but I told him I didn't care about his business.

"You should," he said. "It's paying for your mother's heartbeat." The reminder hit me like a punch and I flinched, which he saw. He stepped closer until I could smell leather and something sharp like 

ozone. He asked if I wanted freedom, and when I said yes, he reached out and grabbed a lock of my hair, running it between his fingers.

"You are free to go anywhere you want," he whispered, giving me a spark of hope before adding, "But don't ever forget who owns the ground you're walking on." 

He let go of my hair and told me I could use the library and walk the halls, but if I touched a closed door, Marcus wouldn't be the one to stop me next time. I asked if that was a threat, and he said it was a fact because he doesn't make threats.

He looked me up and down and told me to go back to the garden because I looked pale and needed the sun. 

He turned around and walked back into the dark room, and the doors closed with a dull thud. I stood there alone in the dark hallway, my heart racing and my skin feeling like it was on fire. He had given me an inch, and I knew why; he didn't want a prisoner who hated him, he wanted a prisoner who forgot she was in a cage. 

I walked back to the West Wing, counting the steps, and when I got to my room I touched the journal under the mattress. I promised my dad I wouldn't forget as the phone buzzed on the nightstand. I didn't look at it. 

I just stared at the door, waiting for the next time it would open, knowing I needed to find Elias before Darian Volkov made me forget my own name.