Gabriel's Obsession

A Glimmer of Escape

The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of suckling as Amelia nursed her twin daughters. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast flickering shadows across the walls, wrapping the space in an eerie stillness. Tears slipped down her face as she rocked them gently, her silent sobs mixing with the rhythmic breathing of her babies.

The events of the past days played in an agonizing loop in her mind, like a torment she couldn't escape. Gabriel's violent outburst, the bruises he left on her body, the coldness in his eyes as he uttered those damning words—our marriage is over. But worst of all was the suffocating reality that even though he claimed to be done with her, he still wouldn't let her go.

She glanced at her daughters, their tiny fingers curled into delicate fists, their faces serene in sleep. They deserved more. They deserved freedom.

Placing them carefully in their crib, she leaned over, brushing a kiss to their foreheads. "Goodnight, my angels," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I swear, I will find a way to get us out of here."

Stepping back, she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the weight of helplessness settle on her chest. "Please, God," she murmured through fresh tears. "Show me a way out of this hell."

The mansion was vast, but it felt like a prison. Every corridor, every door, was a reminder of Gabriel's control, his ruthlessness. He had locked her away from the world, dictated her life, and now, after everything, he expected her to live in submission to his will.

No.

She couldn't—wouldn't.

Not anymore.

She needed to find solace, to breathe, and there was only one person in this cursed house who ever truly listened to her—Mother Grace.

With careful steps, she slipped out of the nursery and into the corridor, her heart pounding as she made her way toward the west wing where the older woman resided.

But just as she turned a corner, a sound caught her attention.

A muffled noise—low and unfamiliar.

Her pulse quickened.

It was coming from somewhere hidden. A part of the house she had never ventured into before.

Then she saw it—a narrow, concealed stairway. Tucked away at the end of the hall, almost as if it was meant to be forgotten.

A sense of foreboding settled over her, but something in her gut urged her forward.

She took a step. Then another.

The stairs were steep, the air colder with each descent. The deeper she went, the more the atmosphere changed. It wasn't like the grand, polished halls of the mansion above. It was different—darker. The smell of damp stone filled her nose, and a feeling of unease slithered down her spine.

Then she saw him.

Her breath hitched.

A figure lay sprawled on the ground, his body battered and bruised, blood staining his torn clothes.

Her brother.

"Jonathan..." Her voice barely came out, choked with disbelief and horror.

His head lifted weakly at the sound of her voice, his swollen eyes barely able to focus on her. "Amelia..." His voice was raw, filled with pain. "You found me."

Amelia stumbled forward, dropping to her knees beside him. "Oh my God, Jonathan, what did they do to you?" She cupped his face with trembling hands, flinching at the bruises beneath her fingertips. "I—I don't understand. Why are you here?"