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I don't respond as I leave him standing in my bedroom alone because the truth is, I knew deep down what my forever is, and it has nothing to do with love. Even if I want it to be.
I'm practically running to get outside the house's front door to the awaiting vehicle. The trunk pops open, and I place my carry-on inside. The door opens automatically, and I realize the electric car is a Rolls-Royce Spectre.
When I slide inside, I notice the automation. The luxury of the vehicle tells me what I already know. The man who owns it is beyond wealthy. He’s also an asshole for having me picked up like something to be delivered to his doorstep.
The vehicle glides forward quietly through the dark streets. Looking out the window at the shining lights and tall skyscrapers, one may think it's a city of opulence and glamour. Clean and functional. Pure. All I see is the filth it hides and the evil it masks.
The City of God. That is what they call it––what everyone calls it—but I know the truth. It's the city of fallen angels.
"Fifteen minutes until you have reached your destination," the female voice from the navigation system says. The glow of the screen highlights the points on the map.
Fear and anticipation claw my insides as I wonder what I’ll walk into when I arrive to meet the mystery man who bought me.
When I pull the visor down, the light flicks on, and I stare at my light eyes in the mirror's reflection like a curse. Some people wish for beauty. To me, it's a death sentence. A curse bestowed upon me, born to be used and looked upon like a prized possession.
What if he hides from me, and I can't see his face?I open the long lace shawl where there is a hidden pocket and pull out the soft mask I kept if there was ever an outbreak.
If I can't see his appearance, neither can he. Once he marries me, I don't have a choice, but for now, when in Rome and all that.
The car circles the massive entrance of the property. Once you passed the electric gate, a sense of wonder and eeriness gripped me. The structure stood proudly, like a relic from a forgotten era, yet it bore subtle signs of adaptation to the present surrounded by the echoes of history and the shadows of decay.
The imposing exterior of the house had walls constructed of ancient, weathered stone that had witnessed centuries of changing seasons and passing generations. Moss and ivy clung to its surface, weaving intricate patterns as if nature herself sought to reclaim the edifice. The windows were tall and narrow, adorned with wrought-iron bars that evoked a sense of imprisonment, a reminder of bygone days when security was paramount.
The roof, a labyrinth of turrets and spires, reached for the sky, the once-bright pennants that may have fluttered in the wind now mere tatters, a contrast to the somber gray backdrop. Chimneys spiraled upward like sentinels, symbols of the life that had once thrived within these walls. Yet amid the antiquity, hints of modernity emerged. Solar panels were discreetly integrated into the roof, their gleaming surfaces juxtaposed against the medieval architecture, a testament to survival in an altered world. It looks ancient, but I know it isn't. It wouldn't be here if it was.
Under the moon's light behind gray clouds like a backdrop, birds fly across the sky as soon as I step out of the car. It looks like no one is home. There are no cars and only two white LED lights illuminate the entrance, but I know better. The man who owns this home loves technology because it allows him to remain hidden. Everything is automated. When I step closer, the pathway lights up, sensing every step I take.
I adjust the mask to ensure it covers my entire face. I hold my carry-on in front of me like it's my lifeline. I grip the straps, causing it to squeeze my skin and burn my palm. I'm glad I chose to wear a long shawl that looks like a dress wrapped around my pantsuit with my pointed knife boots. My power outfit gives me confidence.
I take a deep breath and walk the last steps toward the door. I notice the square screen mounted to the wall to the left. I'm about to press the button on the blue-lit screen, but the door makes a whirring noise as it unlocks. A voice like the one inside the automated vehicle greets me. "Welcome."
Walking into the foyer, I step on the large black tile. Lights line the floors against the wall, reminding me of the movieTron.
Looking up, I notice a shiny black chandelier.Odd.No one uses chandeliers in their homes anymore. It didn't take away the thickness of the air when I walked farther inside. The entrance was an awe-inspiring portal, a shimmering archway that seemed to materialize from thin air. Its surface rippled with a liquid sheen, casting iridescent reflections that played across the walls in a mesmerizing dance. As I moved deeper into the house, the walls themselves transformed, displaying ever-shifting holographic artworks that told stories of distant galaxies, celestial phenomena, and the mysteries of the cosmos.
The main chamber sprawled out before me, a symphony of light and form. Furniture seemed to emerge from the very floor, curvaceous and ergonomic, inviting me to experience a comfort beyond imagination. Luminescent panels lined the walls, their colors shifting in response to my presence, creating an ambiance that adapted to my emotions, from tranquil blues to vibrant purples.
The ceiling was a virtual reality masterpiece, a dynamic canopy that projected scenes of lush landscapes, starlit skies, or even breathtaking views of alien worlds. It was as though I could reach out and touch the stars, their brilliance intensified by the juxtaposition with sleek, metallic accents that adorned the architectural features.
I take two steps forward but pause when I notice an older woman with a serious demeanor approaching me from the left. She stops in front of me, wearing a white pantsuit with a black stripe down the middle with black boots.
"You must be Miss Sinclair. Right this way."
I smile to introduce myself, but she turns around, dismissing me without a smile, an introduction, or a soft welcome.I guessthe house did that already.I'm not surprised. Normal human interaction is lost these days.
I follow her since I’m already used to the cold treatment from back home. I've been treated this way all my life by my father and his staff, but I was hoping that would all change.
She turns the corner down a hallway leading up to a set of stairs lit up the same way as the entrance. When we reach the landing, I notice a hallway on each side. The place must be enormous with a left and right wing.
From the landing, you can see the living room down below. There is a digital screen displaying a faux fireplace casting a glow reflecting from the chrome legs of the furniture with white leather seats.
Not giving me much time to study my surroundings, she takes the left hallway and stops in front of two doors leading to what must be my room, then stands impatiently as she waits for me to catch up. I could tell she isn't too thrilled about me being here. But if I want any information from her, I read somewhere that it's best to get what you want with a dose of honey.
"My name is Lillith, by the way. I don't expect you to call me Miss Sinclair. It seems–"
"That doesn't matter, does it, Miss Sinclair? I will soon have to address you by another surname. What I call you is what Mr. Cross would like for me to address you as. It is what he wants. So you see, there is no point in your request. However, I do not think Mr. Cross would appreciate the way you are mocking him right now."
She means the black mask covering my face. In her eyes, it might look disrespectful, but how he treats me isn't fair. She hasn't so much as greeted me warmly, considering the circumstances, but then again, I guess I could understand why. She is loyal to him.
