Clementine.
He was once my saviour, now he's my captor.
Ezekiel Ambrose doesn't hide who he is. Unlike me he's proud being a monster.
Cruel.
Popular.
Devilishly handsome.
Sinner.
Ezekiel
O...
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🦢
"Welcome back, Miss Monroe. Your parents are awaiting your presence in the sitting room."
Who would've thought all it took was ten words to cause my heart to drop to my ass. My pupils dilated as my eyes grew in size. Struggling to keep my expression neutral, I allow a small smile to grace my face. "Thank you."
Heidi graciously took my coat and purse, and with a polite nod, she gestured for me to follow her to the sitting room. As we walked through the mansion, we passed by several grand family portraits adorning the walls, each one conspicuously lacking my presence. Even Opal, my mother's pug, was in the photos.
Crystal chandeliers cast a soft, warm glow on the richly patterned Persian rugs beneath our feet. Mahogany-paneled walls showcased ornate, antique furnishings, and the occasional gleam of polished brass fixtures. The faint scent of aged leather and wood polish lingered in the air, creating an ambiance of timeless luxury as we made our way to the sitting room. The decor wasn't either of my parent's but Giselle's idea.
We reached the sitting room, where my parents occupied a pair of opulent Louis XVI silk-upholstered chairs. The chairs, adorned with intricate gold leaf details and featuring plush, velvet cushions, exuded an air of extravagance that perfectly complemented the room's lavish decor.
Mother's face remained an enigmatic mask, devoid of any discernible emotion. In stark contrast, Father's countenance contorted with palpable anger. His brows furrowed deeply, creating a formidable crease on his forehead. His normally composed features were etched with a scowl, and his lips were tightly pressed together in a grim line. The intensity in his steely eyes burned with fury, and the veins in his temples pulsed visibly.
Fear coursed through my veins like an electric shock. I'm so dead. My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe, and my hands trembled ever so slightly as I clutched the edge of my skirt. A cold sweat formed on my forehead, and I swallowed hard. My throat suddenly went dry. My eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape or some form of reassurance, but I found none.
Until my eyes settled on Giselle's graceful figure, reclining on a sumptuous, antique silk chaise lounge, my fear subsided, and I felt like I could breathe again. What was she doing here anyway? It was a Saturday, and Saturdays are usually her spa days.
Giselle's beautiful features curved into a wide smile, her almond-shaped eyes sparkled with mirth, and her lips, painted a subtle shade of rose, stretched into a welcoming grin. As she stood up gracefully, the silk kimono she wore hugged her body, its delicate fabric draping elegantly around her slender form.
"Clementine," her voice, sweet as honey, purred as she glided towards me with eyes that sparkled with delight. When she came within reach, we exchanged an air kiss, and she placed her hands tenderly on both of my shoulders. "Oh, honey, I heard what happened. Are you hurt?" She began to search my body for any bodily injuries.
