Chapter 5 THE ESTATE OF GHOSTS

The Valentino Estate sat on the edge of the city like a crown on a corpse.

We'd been driving for twenty minutes, leaving the broken streetlights and cracked sidewalks behind until there was nothing but trees and darkness and a road that curved like a snake. Then the gates appeared—black iron, tall enough to keep out armies, sliding apart without Asher touching anything, like they'd been expecting us.

The driveway stretched longer than my entire street, lined with trees that looked older than my family. At the end, the house rose up against the sky, not a house, a mansion, maybe a fortress. Stone and glass and so much money it hurt to look at.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

Asher glanced at me in the mirror and almost smiled. "First time seeing it?"

"Yeah."

"Wait till you see the inside."

The SUV stopped at the front steps and he got out, opened my door while I climbed out with my sad duffel bag, standing there feeling like I'd accidentally wandered onto a movie set.

"This way."

The front door was heavy wood carved with something I didn't have time to look at because Asher was already pushing it open, and inside was worse...high ceilings, a chandelier that probably cost more than my mom's surgery, marble floors that echoed when I stepped. Stairs curved up and disappeared into darkness while everything looked perfect and nothing looked lived in, like a museum or maybe a mausoleum.

"Mr. Valentino is in his office," Asher said, "but he asked me to show you your room first."

I followed him up the stairs, down a hallway past closed doors and old paintings and windows that showed nothing but darkness outside. He stopped at a door near the end and pushed it open.

I stepped inside and forgot how to breathe.

The room was bigger than my entire apartment with a four-poster bed, dresser, desk, windows that stretched floor to ceiling and a door that led to what looked like a bathroom. Everything was cream and gold and soft lighting, everything was perfect, everything was a cage.

"Bathroom's through there, closet's stocked with basics," Asher said, setting my duffel on the bed where it looked pathetic. "Mr. Valentino will want to see you in the morning at eight. I'll come get you."

"Wait." My voice came out smaller than I meant. "Can I leave if I want to?"

He looked at me for a long moment, and his voice wasn't unkind when he answered, just honest. "You can walk the grounds, but the gates don't open without authorization and there's security everywhere. You're not a prisoner, Elle, but you're not free either. The sooner you accept that, the easier this'll be."

Then he left and the door clicked shut behind him, and I stood there in the middle of the perfect room and felt the walls closing in.

I didn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw Kai's face, heard gunshots, smelled blood I hadn't actually seen but knew was there. At six AM I gave up and got in the shower instead.

The bathroom was ridiculous—all marble and gold fixtures, a shower big enough for three people, water pressure that felt like getting baptized. I stood under it until my skin turned red and I couldn't tell the difference between water and tears.

When I got out, I found clothes laid out on the bed that weren't mine. New ones with tags still on—black jeans that actually fit, a white shirt soft enough to be expensive, underwear that made my Walmart packs look like rags. A note sat on top.

Wear these. - K

I stared at it and my stomach turned over because he'd been in here while I was sleeping or not sleeping, had come in and left clothes and a note and I hadn't heard anything. But I put them on anyway because what else was I gonna do?

At eight exactly, someone knocked.

Asher stood there. "Ready?"

No. "Yeah."

He led me back downstairs through hallways I didn't remember from last night, past rooms with closed doors and silence that felt heavy. We stopped at a door near the back of the house and Asher knocked once, didn't wait for an answer, just opened it.

"She's here."

Then stepped aside.

Kai's office was dark with heavy curtains blocking most of the light, bookshelves lining the walls, a massive desk in the center made of wood that looked like it could survive a war. And behind it, Kai—looking different than the club, less controlled with slightly messy hair and rolled-up sleeves, eyes that tracked me the second I stepped inside.

"Close the door," he said to Asher, and it clicked shut, leaving just us.

"Come here."

I walked forward and stopped a few feet from the desk while his eyes moved over me, taking in the clothes, the wet hair I hadn't bothered drying, the fact that I probably looked like hell.

"You didn't sleep." Not a question.

"No."

"Why?"

Because I was terrified, because I didn't know what I'd gotten myself into, because every time I closed my eyes I heard gunshots. "Couldn't," I said instead.

He leaned back in his chair and studied me before speaking. "Your mother's surgery starts in thirty minutes. The Doctor is the best neurosurgeon in the country and I've worked with him before, so she's in good hands."

The relief hit so hard my knees almost buckled. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, she's not out of surgery." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "It's a six-hour procedure, high risk. She might not make it."

The relief turned to ice. "But you said..."

"I said I'd pay for it, didn't promise she'd survive." He stood and walked around the desk. "Medicine isn't magic, Elle. Sometimes people die anyway."

He was close now, close enough that I could smell his cologne and see the shadow of stubble on his jaw.

"If she dies—" I couldn't finish.

"Then you'll grieve, and you'll still belong to me."

My hands clenched. "That's not..."

"Fair?" He tilted his head and his hand came up, caught my chin, tilted my face up. "No, it's not. But fairness is a fairy tale people tell themselves to feel better about losing. You made a deal and I'm holding up my end. Are you?"

"Yes."

"Good." His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "Then let's talk about rules."

My stomach dropped. "Rules?"

"You live here now, in my house, under my protection, and that comes with expectations. You don't leave without permission, don't talk to anyone I haven't approved, answer when I call, come when I say come." His eyes held mine. "And you don't lie to me, ever. Understand?"

"What if I need to see Maya or go to school?"

"I'll arrange it, but on my terms." He let go of my chin and stepped back. "You're not a prisoner, Elle, but you're not free either. The sooner you accept that, the better this'll be."

Same words Asher used, like they'd practiced.

"And if I break the rules?"

His smile was cold. "Don't."

He dismissed me after that and told me to stay in my room, that he'd send for me when Mom was out of surgery. So I went back upstairs and sat on the perfect bed in the perfect room and stared at my phone.

No messages from Maya, she was probably still asleep at Jessica's. No calls from the hospital yet, just me and the silence.

I pulled up my banking app and stared at the number—$2,347.82—two years of saving for nothing.

I closed the app and opened my photos instead, looking at me and Maya at the park last summer, Mom before she got sick laughing at something I'd said, Dad years ago holding me on his shoulders. Faces I was losing one way or another.

My phone rang with an unknown number and I answered. "Hello?"

"Miss Rossi? This is your mother's doctor. I wanted to update you on your mother's surgery."

My heart stopped. "Is she—"

"She's stable, we've started the procedure and everything's going according to plan so far. I'll call again when we're finished."

"Thank you, thank you so much."

He hung up and I sat there with the phone pressed to my chest, breathing like I'd just run a marathon. She was okay, for now.

Someone knocked, not Asher this time. A woman stepped in—older, maybe sixty, wearing a simple black dress and an expression that gave nothing away.

"Miss Rossi, I'm Clara and I manage the household." Her voice was crisp and professional. "Mr. Valentino asked me to show you around, help you settle in."

"I'm fine, I don't need..."

"It wasn't a request."

Right, of course it wasn't.

I stood and followed her out while she showed me everything, the kitchen that looked industrial like a restaurant's, the library with two stories of books I'd never have time to read, the gym, the pool, the gardens that stretched on forever. All of it perfect and all of it empty.

"Does anyone else live here?" I asked.

"Just Mr. Valentino and staff, of course, but we keep to ourselves."

"What about family or friends?"

"Mr. Valentino prefers privacy."

Translation: he was alone, a man with all this money and space and nobody to share it with. Almost felt sad, almost, then I remembered the gunshots and the bug and the way he'd looked at me when he said you belong to me.

We ended back at my room and Clara's expression softened just slightly. "Lunch is at noon, dinner at seven. If you need anything, there's an intercom by the door. I know this is difficult, but Mr. Valentino isn't a cruel man, just... complicated."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

She almost smiled. "You'll understand in time."

Then she left and I sat on the bed and stared at my phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting to find out if Mom would live or die, waiting for my new life to start or end.