Morning came without warmth.
The mansion was quiet.
Too quiet.
Sebastian was already downstairs.
Dressed.
Composed.
Controlled.
He stood near the tall window in the main hall.
Hands behind his back.
Posture straight.
Still.
The kind of stillness that looked like strength.
But wasn't.
Not completely.
He hadn't slept.
Again.
The night had passed in fragments.
Memories.
Voices.
His father.
Charlotte.
Zakary.
Always Zakary.
He pushed it down.
Like always.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Sharp.
Measured.
Unmistakable.
"…Sebastian."
Charlotte.
He didn't turn immediately.
Didn't give her that.
"…Charlotte."
Flat.
Distant.
He turned slowly.
Her gaze was already on him.
Cold.
Precise.
Unforgiving.
She stepped closer.
Heels clicking against the marble.
Each step deliberate.
"…You left dinner," she said.
Soft.
Controlled.
"Without a word."
A pause.
"…Without permission."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"I didn't realise I needed it."
Wrong answer.
Always the wrong answer.
More footsteps.
Others joining.
Of course.
They never missed moments like this.
Relatives gathered.
Watching.
Listening.
Judging.
"…It reflects poorly on the family," one said.
"…On leadership," another added.
"And on you," a third finished.
Sebastian's gaze flicked between them.
Unimpressed.
Unmoved.
"Leadership?" he repeated quietly.
"…From people who whisper behind closed doors?"
A ripple moved through them.
Discomfort.
Annoyance.
Charlotte's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Zakary never behaved like this," she said.
There it was.
Again.
Always him.
"He understood respect," someone added.
"He understood loyalty," another said.
"He understood his place."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Expectant.
Sebastian stepped forward slightly.
Just enough.
"I don't answer to any of you."
The words landed sharp.
Clean.
Dangerous.
The air snapped tight.
Charlotte went still.
Too still.
"…Excuse me?" she asked.
Soft.
Deadly.
Sebastian didn't look away.
"I said—."
The sound cut him off.
Sharp.
Sudden.
Her hand struck his face.
Hard.
Fast.
His head snapped to the side.
And instinct—
Old.
Buried.
Immediate—
Took over.
His arms came up.
Shielding his head.
Protecting.
Too late.
But automatic.
The room fell silent.
Completely.
Even the relatives froze.
Watching.
Not intervening.
Never intervening.
Sebastian's breathing shifted.
Slightly uneven now.
His hands still raised for a second too long.
Then—
He lowered them.
Forced control back in.
Piece by piece.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
His gaze lifted.
Colder now.
Sharper.
But something else underneath.
Something they didn't notice.
Or didn't care to.
Charlotte had already recovered.
Of course she had.
Perfect posture.
Perfect calm.
Like nothing had happened.
"…Take him."
The words were quiet.
Final.
No one moved at first.
A flicker of hesitation.
Then—
Two stepped forward.
Then another.
Enough.
Sebastian's shoulders squared.
"…Don't."
Low.
Warning.
Ignored.
Hands grabbed his arms.
Firm.
Restraining.
He reacted instantly.
Pulling back.
"Let go."
No response.
Their grip tightened.
One at his shoulder.
One at his arm.
Another blocking him.
He struggled.
Controlled at first.
Then sharper.
"Don't touch me."
Still nothing.
Charlotte watched.
Unmoved.
"Take him," she repeated.
"…to that room."
The words hit differently.
He stilled.
Just for a second.
"No."
Quiet.
Firm.
Real.
But they were already moving him.
Down the hallway.
The same hallway.
The same turns.
His chest tightened.
Not fear.
Recognition.
He knew.
Before they reached it.
The door.
Plain.
Unremarkable.
But not to him.
Never to him.
His resistance grew.
Stronger now.
"Stop."
They didn't.
He pulled harder.
"Let me go!"
Still nothing.
The door opened.
Darkness inside.
Cold.
Waiting.
Something inside him snapped.
"NO—."
They pushed him forward.
He twisted.
Tried to break free.
"LET GO OF ME!"
His voice echoed.
Sharp.
Raw.
Uncontrolled.
They forced him through the doorway.
He stumbled.
Caught himself—
Then turned immediately.
"Don't—!"
The door slammed shut.
The lock clicked.
Loud.
Final.
Silence.
Then—
It hit.
Darkness.
Total.
Complete.
No light.
No movement.
No space.
His breathing spiked.
Sharp.
Uneven.
"No…" he muttered.
Too quiet.
Too small.
He turned quickly.
Hands hitting the door.
Flat.
Hard.
"Open it."
No response.
His chest tightened.
Air felt wrong.
Too little.
Too thick.
"Open the door."
Louder now.
Still controlled—
Barely.
Nothing.
His hand slammed against it.
Once.
Twice.
"Open it!"
The sound echoed back at him.
Empty.
Useless.
His breathing picked up.
Faster.
Too fast.
"No—no, no…"
His hand gripped the handle.
Twisted.
Locked.
Of course it was.
"Let me out!"
His voice broke through the silence.
Louder.
Sharpening.
"Let me OUT!"
He hit the door again.
Harder this time.
The sound rang through the small space.
His chest heaved.
Air in.
Out.
Too fast.
Too uneven.
"LET ME GO!"
The words ripped out of him.
Not controlled anymore.
Not measured.
Raw.
Real.
His hands slammed against the door repeatedly.
Desperate now.
"OPEN IT!"
Silence answered.
Only silence.
The same silence as before.
Years ago.
The same walls.
The same darkness.
The same feeling.
Trapped.
Alone.
Small.
"No—no—please—."
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Please.
His hands stilled for a second.
Like even he heard it.
Hated it.
But it was already there.
His breathing broke.
Shallow.
Uneven.
His back hit the door.
Then he slid down.
Slowly.
Controlled—
Until it wasn't.
He hit the floor.
Hard.
His hands came up again.
Not hitting this time.
Protecting.
Shielding his head.
Like something was coming.
Like something always did.
But nothing came.
Just darkness.
Just silence.
Just him.
Alone.
"Stop…" he whispered.
But there was nothing to stop.
Nothing but his own mind.
His own memories.
His own breathing.
Too loud.
Too fast.
He forced a breath in.
Held it.
Let it out slowly.
Again.
Again.
Trying to regain control.
Trying to anchor himself.
But this room—
This room didn't let him.
It never had.
Upstairs—
His phone rested on the bed.
Forgotten.
Silent.
Then—
The screen lit up.
A message.
Lillian:
Good morning… are you okay?
Unread.
Miles away—
She waited.
For a reply.
That wasn't coming.