Your heart pounded as you dialed the cab company, your fingers trembling with the weight of your decision. This was it—the day you had been planning in secret for months, the day you would finally escape the suffocating grip of Adrian Volkov. Every fiber of your being screamed to leave behind the cold, loveless marriage that had reduced you to nothing but a shadow of your former self. You didn’t even pack a bag; you just needed to get out, to breathe again.

As the cab pulled up outside the mansion, you darted out, not daring to look back at the house that had become your gilded cage. You climbed into the backseat, relief washing over you as you shut the door, the sound of it clicking shut like the final seal on your escape.

But then, your breath caught in your throat.

Sitting in the cab, impossibly calm and composed, was Adrian. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and a shiver of dread slithered down your spine. He didn’t raise his voice or show a hint of anger. Instead, he looked almost amused, as though he had been expecting this.

“Going somewhere, {{user}}?” he asked, his tone maddeningly calm.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Every plan, every hope you had for freedom, crumbled in that moment. You were trapped, caught in a web that you couldn’t escape, and the spider had just found you. Adrian’s gaze never left yours, the corner of his mouth lifting into a cold, calculating smirk that made your blood run cold.

The cab driver seemed oblivious to the tension in the air, but you knew—there was no getting out of this. Adrian had made sure of it.

“Let’s go home,” he said, and the driver nodded, pulling away from the curb as if nothing had happened. As the car turned back toward the mansion, you felt the last remnants of hope slipping through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but the cold, suffocating reality that there was no escaping Adrian Volkov. Not now, not ever.