How could he dare ask me that question while his dead wife still lay in bed?
I could still remember the first day I arrived here.
Mrs. Moly had welcomed me with homemade cookies and a bright, motherly smile.
Not only did she offer me a salary, but she even gave me a little allowance, saying I reminded her of the younger sister she never had.
Now, standing before her lifeless body, Mr. Castiel's hand brushed against mine and my stomach twisted in disgust.
I darted a desperate glance at Mrs. Moly and spoke with trembling lips:
"Don't touch me... Not in front of your wife!"
A crooked smile played on his lips.
"Then perhaps I should touch you somewhere else. Would that be better?"
I shoved his hand away and staggered back.
It was painfully obvious this was a man who was used to taking whatever he wanted.
But I would not, could not, let him lay claim to me so easily.
"I'm not one of those other girls you cheated on your wife with!" I snapped. "Don't you dare mistake me for them. I would never betray her!"
He laughed.
Not because anything was funny but because he wanted to scare me.
That cruel, chilling laughter slithered into my chest like ice, planting seeds of fear deep inside me.
"I like that," he murmured. "You're loyal, Melissa."
"My loyalty belongs only to Mrs. Moly," I spat.
The cold glint in his eyes sharpened.
"If you keep resisting me, little dove, you'll only end up hurting yourself."
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the sting of tears.
Anger and helplessness burned inside me like twin flames, tearing me apart.
"I'm mourning your wife!" I cried out. "Something you clearly have no heart to do!"
He laughed again louder this time.
The cruel sound bounced off the stone walls, echoing through the room.
It was as if even Mrs. Moly's soul, lingering in this cold, heavy air, was forced to hear his mockery.
In my homeland, we believe that the soul lingers for a while before it moves on.
In these first hours after death, the spirit hovers, unseen but present.
And yet, here stood the man she had loved laughing.
I clutched my trembling hands to my chest and begged,
"Mr. Castiel... didn't you love her at all? She's dead! Mrs. Moly is gone! I only knew her for five months and still... I grieve her more than you do!"
He turned his back to me and walked toward the bed, his hands tucked into his pockets.
I studied him silently.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Powerfully built.
But what struck me most were his hands the same large hands that had dared touch me.
And those eyes...
Black as the midnight sky, when the world is most silent and cruel.
They reminded me of the nights I spent staring out the orphanage window, longing for a mother who would never come.
He broke the heavy silence with a voice like a blade of ice:
"You blame me for Moly's death."
His words slithered toward me, poisoning the air.
"Or maybe," he said with a tilt of his head, "you're playing mind games. Maybe you are the one who killed her."
I gasped, fury boiling inside me.
"How dare you! Mrs. Moly was my friend!"
He stayed maddeningly calm.
"You said you were with her when she died."
A terrible stillness wrapped itself around us.
Mr. Castiel was a man carved from stone cold, unyielding, merciless.
When he spoke again, his words stabbed into me:
"Tell me, Melissa... aren't you afraid?"
Was I supposed to be afraid?
His words clawed at my heart.
But I stood my ground.
"I'm not afraid," I said, even as my voice wavered.
"I know the pain Mrs. Moly endured. I know the things she said about you. I know how deeply you hurt her. Take responsibility for your sins and stop blaming others!"
He said nothing.
Instead, he moved to his wife's side and gently ran his hand through her golden hair.
The sight made my chest tighten painfully.
The walls around us felt too small, too heavy even though the lights were on, darkness pressed against my ribs.
I didn't understand him.
Why accuse me?
Why force this cruelty onto me?
Raising his hand from his wife's hair, he pointed directly at me.
"You will stay here until the truth behind her death is revealed."
"What?!" I recoiled in shock.
"No! You can't keep me here! I won't stay another minute not even for Mrs. Moly's memory!"
Spinning around, I ran from the room, my heart pounding wildly.
I had yet to receive my last month's pay, but I no longer cared.
I needed to escape before this mansion became my tomb.
Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled through the hall, grabbed my coat from the rack, and slung my bag over my shoulder.
I didn't look back.
But as I turned the corner. I crashed straight into Mr. Castiel's chest.
His solid frame blocked my path.
I looked up, trembling.
"Where are you going, Melissa?" he asked smoothly.
"Home!" I cried.
He chuckled darkly a terrifying sound and seized my arm in a bruising grip.
My coat and bag fell to the ground as he dragged me back inside.
"Mr. Castiel! This is illegal!" I screamed.
He didn't even flinch.
"Let me go! You're hurting me!" I cried, struggling in vain.
"Please! I've done nothing wrong!"
"Walk," he commanded. "And stop fighting me."
Dragging me through the endless halls, he led me to a locked door hidden deep within the mansion.
Unlocking it, he leaned down and whispered in my ear:
"From now on, Melissa... you belong to me. Until Moly's death is solved, you will stay here. Obey me and you might just live like a guest, not a prisoner."
The door slammed shut behind me.
And the cold swallowed me whole.