Chapter 7
+15 Bonus
Tristan threw Jessica into the basement and locked her away with the servants who knew about Tommy’s death.
In the damp, shadowy space, unconscious men and women lay pressed against one another, like meat waiting on a butcher’s
block.
I watched as Tristan locked the heavy door without hesitation. For the first time, I felt oddly relieved–at least he had no taste for
human flesh. Otherwise, neither these unconscious people nor I, long since cooked through, would have stood a chance.
Since that day when he broke down crying, something inside him had shifted. He seemed to activate a kind of self–preservation
mode, clinging to the belief that I wasn’t dead. I was simply hiding, running from him.
Determined to find me, he pulled every string he had, even going so far as to track down his former butler. I recalled watching the
old man board his flight that day, feeling nothing but relief. He had spent a lifetime serving Tristan. He didn’t deserve to endure
this madness in his final years.
Once Jessica was thrown into the basement, Tristan lost all interest in her. Everything in the villa that had anything to do with her
was discarded. In their place, the belongings he had once shoved into the storage room–mine–were carefully arranged throughout the house.
He placed each item meticulously, even ensuring there were matching sets for a couple, as if he were a devoted husband. But I
knew better. This wasn’t love. This was just another illusion, a desperate attempt to convince himself that he was the perfect
husband.
Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could erase the past. Maybe if he set the stage just rig
