The Edge of Light ✔️

Chapter Sixteen

N I K O L A I

The days had turned into weeks, and something about Elena had changed. At first, I didn't pay it much attention. She was quieter, more subdued, but at least she wasn't resisting anymore. I figured that maybe she'd finally realized the futility of fighting me—of fighting this. And that suited me just fine.

She stayed close now. No more secret plans, no more running off with Emilio, no more Cecile bringing chaos into her life. I had her under control, and in a way, it was comforting. But even as I told myself that, there was something about her silence that made my skin crawl.

It wasn't just that she was quieter—it was how utterly still she had become. She moved through the penthouse like a shadow, slipping in and out of rooms, never drawing attention to herself. She no longer asked for anything. There was no pushback, no heated words. Even when I took away her privileges—the studio, seeing Cecile or Emilio—she barely reacted.

She did what she was told. She stayed.

But there was something off. The fire, the life that had once burned in her eyes, that had once driven me to the edge of my sanity, was gone. Replaced with nothingness. A void. I used to get lost in those brown eyes, whether they were filled with defiance or rage. Now, there was nothing.

It should've been enough. I should've felt satisfied. Hell, maybe I even should've been relieved that she wasn't fighting me anymore. But instead, it twisted something inside me—something I refused to confront.

I found myself watching her more often, noticing how she wore dark clothes now. Colors that matched my own—black, gray, navy. It was like she was slowly becoming an extension of me, blending into my world without complaint. At first, it seemed like a victory. The Elena who used to fight me at every turn was gone. I had won.

But why didn't it feel like a win?

I refused to think about it, choosing instead to ignore the uncomfortable churn in my gut whenever I saw her moving listlessly through the penthouse. It didn't matter. Not really. At least she was here, with me, where she belonged. What did it matter if the light in her eyes had faded?

As long as she didn't leave.

E L E N A

There was a certain numbness that had settled over me in the past few weeks. It wasn't sudden. It had crept in, little by little, until one day I realized I couldn't feel much of anything anymore.

The old me—the one who had fought to escape, who had tried to carve out some semblance of a life here—was gone. She had fought and lost. What was left now was just a shell, going through the motions of existence. I didn't resist anymore. I didn't fight. What was the point?

I wore the same dark colors as Nikolai. They felt right, in a twisted way. Like I was becoming a part of this dark, suffocating world that he had dragged me into. I didn't even want to wear my old clothes. They felt like a mockery of the person I had once been. Bright colors, soft fabrics—they didn't belong to me anymore.

And the worst part? I didn't care. Not really.

I didn't care about much of anything these days. I moved through the penthouse like a ghost, barely acknowledging anyone, barely acknowledging myself. There was no Cecile, no studio, no reason to wake up other than the fact that I had to.

Nikolai had taken everything from me. But in doing so, I had also taken something from him—myself.

I could feel him watching me sometimes. His gaze would linger a little too long, like he was trying to figure out what had changed. But he never said anything. He didn't ask why I no longer met his gaze, why I no longer fought him at every turn. Maybe he didn't care. Or maybe he did, but he didn't know how to ask.

It didn't matter. Nothing did.

N I K O L A I

One night, as I sat in my office, I couldn't help but think about her. About how quiet the penthouse had become. It was unsettling in a way I hadn't expected. The fire in Elena that had once driven me to frustration and obsession had been extinguished.

She had become obedient. Compliant. Almost... broken.

Part of me hated it. The rational part of me knew that this was what I had been aiming for—control, dominance. But the other part, the part that I kept buried deep inside, felt the gnawing discomfort. This wasn't the Elena I had married. This wasn't the woman who had captured my attention, my focus.

But as quickly as the thought surfaced, I crushed it. I couldn't afford to care. Not now. Not when things were finally under control.

She was with me. That was all that mattered.

So, I buried the unease, choosing to pretend that her silence was what I had wanted all along.

But even I knew that a silence like this couldn't last forever.