Chapter 10: Temptations Embraces
Three days had passed since Naomi’s arrival in the mansion, and yet, she still hadn’t seen Zylan. It felt like a relief. She had spent the days in isolation, watching the workers as they came and went, learning the structure of the mansion and its rules.
Armed with a small notebook, Naomi had taken to meticulously calculating her escape plan, mapping out every possible route and every potential obstacle. The mansion was vast and unfamiliar, but she would not remain a prisoner here for long. She had one goal in mind—freedom.
The one rule that stuck out to her was the absolute prohibition on entering Zylan’s room. Naomi didn’t quite understand why such a rule existed. In a way, it seemed like an unnecessary boundary, but it didn’t concern her. The only thing she cared about was escaping—whatever it took.
Naomi stood at the sink, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest. "Oh no, oh God!" she exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper. Panic surged as she realized she couldn’t find one of her contact lenses. Her golden eyes—eyes she had learned to hide since childhood—were exposed. She had always worn black contacts to conceal her unusual eye color, which complemented her golden-blonde hair. It was a feature that had long been a source of disdain in her family, especially her mother, who had never stopped reminding Naomi how "disgusting" her eyes were.
After finishing her bath, Naomi searched frantically for her missing contact lens. "I’ll order a new one tomorrow. Maybe I’ll wear sunglasses," she convinced herself, trying to steady her nerves. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart. The thought of being without her contacts made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself in this mansion full of strangers.
She quickly cleaned herself off and slipped into a long, white silk nightgown that gently complemented her figure. Staring at herself in the mirror, she saw her golden eyes staring back at her—eyes that had often frightened others. She remembered a time in elementary school when her classmates had been terrified by her gaze, leading to a visit to the principal’s office. Her mother had lied, claiming Naomi was wearing fake contact lenses. That incident had pushed Naomi to start wearing real contacts to avoid further attention.
"I could just say I’m wearing contact lenses if anyone asks," she muttered to herself, brushing through her hair. It was a habit she had grown accustomed to: always being prepared to explain away her unusual features, always hiding behind something that felt safer than being herself.
After stepping out of the bathroom, Naomi walked to the table where she had left her notebook. "The plan is set, but now I need to call Rose." But as she glanced at the table, it wasn’t there. Could this day get any worse?
"Where is it? Where is it?" Naomi muttered, feeling increasingly frustrated. Why am I misplacing things today of all days?
Naomi walked to the chair and sank into it, resting her back against the frame with a sigh. She knew she needed to find the notebook, but as her eyes scanned the room, exhaustion began to overtake her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before she realized it, she had drifted off to sleep in the chair. It was clear she was utterly exhausted.
Hours later, in the middle of the night, Naomi stirred awake, feeling a discomfort she couldn’t quite place. She quietly stood, her body stiff, and made her way to the bed.