Heather woke up to the faint aroma of chicken soup wafting through the room. Her body felt heavy, pleading for rest, but curiosity pulled at her. She sluggishly opened her eyes and blinked at the sharp, unfamiliar surroundings. The clean, polished interiors didn't belong to any place she knew. Was she dreaming? She blinked again, harder this time.
Nope. Not a dream.
She shot upright, her heart pounding. *Where am I?* she thought frantically. Memories flooded back—the farmhouse, the gas... How had she ended up here? She glanced around the room, her brows furrowing.
The space was nothing like the grimy, dingy hostage rooms she'd acted in movies. This room felt… lively. It had personality. Bright stickers of boy bands adorned one wall, while a shelf was filled with books and a detailed model of a brain. On the opposite wall hung a peculiar portrait of a cow. The strange mix of decor made it feel like three different people designed one space.
Her eyes landed on a small table near the bed, where a plate sat covered. Heather rose slowly, her legs unsteady, and lifted the cover. Chicken soup. She stared at it for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. An apology meal?She shook her head. Everyone knew that chicken soup served to someone healthy screamed, *Sorry, we messed up."*
Covering the plate again, she scanned the room for clues. Three doors stood before her—two tucked into the corner and one larger door directly ahead. She walked to the first and pushed it open. A walk-in closet? Rows and rows of neatly hung clothes greeted her. She frowned and moved to the second door. A clean, tiled bathroom with a walk-in shower lay on the other side. Her confusion deepened. *Why would a kidnapper feed me, give me nice clothes, and keep me in a cozy room?*
Finally, she approached the larger door. When she opened it, a hallway stretched before her. She took cautious steps forward, her bare feet brushing the cool floor. The hallway opened into a grand staircase, and just before the stairs was an enormous family portrait. Heather stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes locking onto the familiar faces. Caius? His brother? Three identical young women—triplets, no doubt. A stately man and woman who had to be his parents. But what caught her attention most was a separate, smaller portrait hanging nearby, its frame more intricate than the others. *Grandma Ellie.*
A sinking feeling settled in her chest. *Is this the Thorne family house? What am I doing here?* Her thoughts spiraled as dizziness overtook her. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to steady herself.
"Mrs. Thorne! You're awake?" a cheery voice called out.
Heather didn't respond immediately. Her brow furrowed. *Mrs. Thorne?* She opened her eyes to find a woman approaching her. She was dressed in a crisp uniform—a maid, perhaps.
"Come, let me get you back to your room," the woman said, reaching for Heather's arm.
Heather stepped back, frowning. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yes, of course," the maid replied, smiling brightly. "The young master's family wants to see you. But first, let's get you changed out of that outfit."
Heather's confusion deepened. *Young master?* She studied the maid, then glanced down at her own attire; a nightgown. Her cheeks burned with irritation. "Where am I?"
"You're at the Thorne's family resident," the maid said casually, as though it were obvious.
Heather's heart sank. *Why would Lily bring me here? Is Alex here too?*
"Where's Lily?" Heather asked.
The maid hesitated. "Miss Lily instructed us to make sure you rest. Everyone's downstairs, eager to meet you. Let's get you ready—your hair's a mess, and this outfit... well..." She reached for Heather's arm again, but Heather yanked it away.
"Don't touch me," Heather snapped.
The maid looked flustered but remained polite. "Mrs. Thorne, please. The whole family is here to see you."
Heather's mind reeled. *The family. Caius's family. How did I end up in this mess?* She took a calming breath, trying to ground herself. "I'm not going anywhere. Where is Alex?" she demanded.
"He's fine," the maid assured her quickly. "He's downstairs. You should come too."
"Not until I see Alex."
The maid hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as though someone might overhear. "You're supposed to look your best. Please, I can't get into trouble with the young master."
Heather narrowed her eyes. *Young master? Again with this 'young master' business.* "Who's the young master?" she asked coldly.
The maid froze, her eyes widening in shock. "Your husband."
Husband?
"Husband?" she repeated, disbelief lacing her voice.
The maid suddenly dropped her gaze and bowed deeply, muttering a hasty apology. Heather's confusion mounted. "What are you—?"
She turned and froze. Standing just a few feet away was a tall woman, smiling as though nothing was amiss. Lily.
"Hello, Heather. It's nice to finally meet you in person," Lily said, extending a hand.
Heather didn't take it. Her voice was steady but cold. "Where is Alex?"
Lily's smile faltered slightly. "He's downstairs with Grandma Ellie."
"What is this? What's going on?" her patience was wearing thin.
Lily sighed softly. "I'll explain everything. But first, come with me. Everyone's waiting for you downstairs."