Grace Morgan's POV

The evening of the dinner invitation arrived all too quickly. Every movement felt like I was a puppet on strings as I prepared for the dinner, my mind racing with thoughts of survival. Derek's presence towered over me, his gaze a frequent reminder of the tightrope I had to walk to protect Freya—and myself.

I chose a simple yet classy dress, hoping it would help me blend into the background and avoid drawing attention. From the doorway of our bedroom, Derek watched me dress, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and suspicion.

"Remember," he growled, "keep up appearances. Any slip-up, and there will be consequences."

"I understand," I replied, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through my veins.

As we walked to Freya's house, Derek's hand rested possessively on my lower back—a gesture that appeared loving but was, in reality, a silent warning. The evening air was cool, but the tension between us was apparent. I glanced around the neighborhood, the idyllic setting at odds with the dark reality of my life.

Freya welcomed us with a warm smile, ushering us into the cozy, well-lit living room, where the aroma of a home-cooked meal wafted through the air. "I'm so glad you could make it," she said, her eyes lingering on me with genuine concern.

I forced a smile, hoping it would mask my anxiety. "Thank you for inviting us," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. Derek stood beside me, a charming appearance in place, masking the beast hiding beneath.

"Brought some peanut butter fudge for everyone," I replied, holding up the tin I had brought as a dessert.

"So nice of you, but I actually have a peanut allergy. I hope you don't mind if I put it away for later," Freya said apologetically.

"Oh, no problem at all," I responded, feeling slightly embarrassed for not checking beforehand.

Several of our neighbors were already gathered in the living room, chatting and laughing. Among them were Paul and Linda, an older couple known for their kindness, and young Melanie, a single mother who always had a bright smile despite her struggles. Their presence should have made me feel at ease, but instead, it amplified my dread.

Soon enough, Zane joined us, his warm smile sending a confusing mix of relief and fear through me. Seeing him made my heart race, yet his presence also reminded me of the danger I was in. Derek suspected my affinity for Zane, and I knew he would use it against me if he could.

"It's good to see you both." Zane greeted us, his eyes meeting mine briefly with a look of concern.

"Likewise," Derek replied smoothly, shaking Zane's hand with a firm grip that seemed to convey a silent threat. "Grace and I have been looking forward to this."

"Why did you suddenly call off the therapy?"

Zane's question caught me off guard. I could feel the tension between the two men, and I knew that whatever was about to happen would only escalate the situation further.

As Zane's question hung in the air, I felt a wave of panic wash over me. I knew I had to think fast.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Devlin," I stammered, my eyes avoiding his. "I... I actually had to go. Something urgent came up." I lied, desperately trying to diffuse the tense atmosphere before it spiraled out of control. Derek shot me a knowing look. The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but for now, it seemed like my only way out.

A few days after destroying my phone, Derek gifted me another new phone and acted like nothing had happened. I couldn't believe his audacity, but I knew I had to play along if I wanted to be on his good side. It was clear that Derek wasn't going to let me off the hook that easily.

As the night progressed, Derek kept a watchful eye on me, his subtle cues a reminder to play my part flawlessly. I felt like a marionette dancing to his tune, every smile forced and every word chosen with care. The weight of the secrets I carried threatened to suffocate me, but I knew I had to maintain composure for Freya's sake.

Amidst the small talk and clinking of glasses, I caught glimpses of Zane stealing glances in my direction, a silent reassurance that he was there for me. He was standing so close yet so far away, his presence both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

I wish I could tell him how much torment I was enduring, but the timing wasn't right. I had to focus on getting through the evening without revealing too much.

I excused myself from the group under the pretense of needing to freshen up, grateful for a moment of solitude. As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a myriad of emotions warred within me. Fear, guilt, longing—all intertwined in a complex web that threatened to ensnare me.

The sound of footsteps outside the bathroom door snapped me out of my reverie. It was Zane.

"Grace," he whispered urgently through the closed door. "Are you okay?"

His concern was like a lifeline in the storm that raged around me. I hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door and walking out.

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. "Really."

Zane's expression was a mixture of frustration and concern. "Then why is there a bruise on your arm?"

I quickly pulled down my sleeves, but before I could respond, a loud squeal echoed through the hallway. We both walked outside and turned to see Freya standing there, a bouquet of flowers in her hands, her face a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"These just arrived," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "They're beautiful, but there's no note."

Derek appeared behind me, his hand gripping my shoulder tightly. "Must be from a secret admirer," he said with a chuckle that didn't reach his eyes.

Freya's eyes widened as she looked at Zane. "Do you know anything about this?" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Zane shook his head, clearly bewildered. "No, I have no idea."

Freya's face softened into a confused frown. "I don't understand. Who would send me flowers?"

The room grew tense as the implication hung in the air. Zane's eyes darkened with a mixture of confusion and hurt. "Freya, are you sure you don't know?"

Freya's expression was earnest. "I swear, Zane, I have no idea who could have sent these."

Derek's grip on my shoulder tightened painfully. "Let's not jump to conclusions," he said smoothly. "It could be anyone."

The tension between Freya and Zane was palpable, a silent argument brewing just beneath the surface. I felt trapped, caught in the crossfire of their misunderstanding and my own desperate situation.

"How does it feel to see her caught up in this mess?" Derek's voice was laced with a hint of mischief, and his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction as he even lowered his voice. "It's almost poetic, don't you think?"

"Did you do this?" I asked in a low voice , my heart pounding in my chest.

Derek's smirk widened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "You'll never know, but I'm not a home wrecker." With that final taunt, he strode away, leaving me to grapple with the uncertainty of his words.

He's a hypocrite, that's for certain. My mind reeled, torn between anger and confusion. Was he telling the truth, or was this just another one of his devious games? The lingering scent of his cologne only added to my confusion.

As Freya and Zane exchanged uneasy glances, I glanced around the room, my mind racing for a way out. The sound of their strained conversation echoed through the living room, drawing the attention of the other guests, who now watched with a mix of curiosity and unease.

"Stop it, both of you," I pleaded, my voice trembling. "Let's not let this ruin the evening. It could be a simple mistake."

Freya nodded slowly, but Zane's eyes remained hard, suspicion lingering just beneath the surface. "Sure," he muttered, his tone betraying his unease. "Let's just enjoy the night."

The argument subsided, but the atmosphere remained tense. I felt a flicker of hope that the situation would calm down, but I knew that Derek's manipulations were far from over. I couldn't shake off the feeling that maybe he orchestrated this chaos for his own twisted amusement.

The dinner continued in strained silence, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Derek's presence continued to linger in the air, a threatening shadow that cast a cloud over the festivities. Freya tried her best to keep up a look of normalcy, but I could see the worry etched in the lines of her face whenever she thought no one was looking.

Zane, on the other hand, seemed to be simmering with barely contained rage. I could practically see the tension radiating off him in waves, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts.

I sat there and realized maybe all of this was my fault. If I didn't come here and disrupt their lives, maybe they wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe I should have just stayed away. I thought I could just escape from Derek's grip, but now I was seeing the consequences of my actions unfold before me. The guilt weighed heavy on my chest as I watched the trouble I had unknowingly caused.

I tried to focus on the dinner, savoring every bite of the perfectly cooked food and the lighthearted conversations that filled the dining room. But beneath it all, a suffocating weight of guilt and fear threatened to consume me, weighing down my limbs and making it difficult to even breathe.

And then, just when I thought the tension couldn't get any worse, Derek's hand moved beneath the table, his fingers brushing against my thigh in a slow, deliberate motion. I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat as a wave of nausea washed over me. We were at a neighbor's house for dinner, surrounded by people who had no idea of the torment I was in.

I couldn't escape the feeling that we were playing a dangerous game, one where he held all the power and I was just a pawn on his chessboard. Yet I knew better than to resist or protest—that would only make things worse. So I forced myself to remain still, plastering a fake smile on my face and pretending everything was fine.

But inside, I felt like a trapped animal, caged with no way out. The laughter around me sounded hollow; the smiles on everyone's faces were nothing more than masks covering their true intentions. And through it all, Derek's touch remained, an ever-present reminder of my precarious position.

When the evening finally drew to a close, Derek made a show of thanking Freya and Zane for their hospitality. I stood beside him, my smile plastered on, my heart pounding as I counted the minutes until we could leave.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," I said, my voice strained.

"Anytime," Freya replied, her smile forced. "We should do this again soon."

Zane's eyes bore into mine, a silent plea that made my heart ache. As we turned to leave, his voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Grace," he said in a casual yet meaningful tone. "You both could have stayed a little longer." His eyes narrowed as they flickered between Derek and me.

Derek's grip on my arm tightened, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me closer. "We wouldn't want to overstay our welcome," he replied, his tone dripping with false cordiality, but the underlying danger was unmistakable.

Zane's gaze shifted to Derek, his eyes cold and unyielding. "It's a small neighborhood. Secrets don't stay hidden for long." I could feel the tension rising between them—a silent battle of wills that seemed to explode in the air around us. Zane suspected my relationship with Derek; he saw the bruise on my arm and knew something was wrong. Zane was now on Derek's bad side, and my heart raced with fear.

Derek's smile remained fixed. "Wise words, Zane. We'll keep that in mind."

As we walked home in silence, Derek's hand remained a grasp on my arm, a silent promise of the punishment that awaited me. The darkness seemed to close in around us, swallowing us whole. I glanced up at the sky, searching for some semblance of light in the sea of blackness, but all I saw was the cold, indifferent gaze of the stars above.

When we finally stepped through the door, Derek's illusions crumbled, and his true nature emerged. "You'd do well to remember your place, Grace," he hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Zane's little display of bravado won't save you, not when I hold all the cards."

The darkness of the night seemed to close in around us, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows held secrets, whispers of a future that I dared not imagine. As I lay awake, the weight of my captivity pressing down on me, I knew that the game had only just begun.