The brothel had always smelled of perfume and candle wax, but tonight, the air felt heavier—thick with something Katherine couldn't name. It pressed against her skin, seeped into her lungs, coiling around her ribs like unseen chains. The moment she stepped inside, it was as if the walls whispered, You never really left. Shadows danced against the crimson drapes, flickering in the dim glow of chandeliers. The low murmur of voices, the rustling of silk skirts, and the clinking of glasses filled the space like a symphony of indulgence. But beneath it all, there was something darker. Something suffocating.
Her pulse quickened as she moved through the halls, her hands curled into fists to keep them from trembling. Every step felt like walking through water, dragging against an invisible weight. She had snuck out without a word to Vincent. She couldn't risk him stopping her. She didn't want him to worry. She didn't want trouble. But the truth was, fear churned in her stomach like a storm.
If she was going to leave with him, she needed to make sure Madame Dupont wouldn't come after them.
But now, sitting across from the woman who had shaped her life, who had once taken her in from the cold streets and given her a place within these walls, she wasn't sure she had made the right choice.
Madame Dupont studied her with quiet amusement, her fingers drumming lazily against the polished wood of her desk. The rich scent of jasmine clung to the air, mingling with aged paper and the faint traces of opium smoke. It was an intoxicating mix, one that made Katherine's pulse skitter. Her dark eyes gleamed, full of something unreadable. "How bold of you, chérie," she murmured, her voice smooth as silk. "Sneaking back into my house like a ghost."
Katherine swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to lower her gaze. "I didn't come to cause problems," she said carefully, keeping her voice steady. "I just… I need you to understand something."
Madame Dupont's lips curled in a slow, knowing smile. "Do you?" She stood, crossing the room with the grace of a woman who always knew she was in control. Her silk gown shimmered as she moved, the rich burgundy fabric pooling around her like spilled wine. She was every bit the queen of this house, ruling from her throne with elegance and cruelty in equal measure. "And what is it that you think I must understand?"
Katherine hesitated, forcing herself to hold the woman's gaze. It was like staring into the eyes of a snake—patient, waiting, coiled and ready to strike. "I'm leaving."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, the silence was so thick Katherine could hear the distant laughter from the parlor below. Her heart pounded as Madame Dupont tilted her head, considering her.
"Leaving?" The older woman echoed the word slowly, as if savoring the taste of it on her tongue. "Oh, my dear, you've always been so naive."
Katherine's hands clenched in her lap. "I don't need your permission. I'm not asking for it. I just don't want things to end badly."
Madame Dupont let out a soft, knowing chuckle. "End badly?" She perched on the arm of Katherine's chair, trailing a manicured nail along the velvet. Her presence was overwhelming, suffocating. "Ma chérie, you speak as if this is a choice you are free to make."
Katherine stiffened. "It is my choice."
Madame Dupont leaned in, her voice lowering to a whisper. "Oh, is it?"
The warmth of her breath sent a chill down Katherine's spine. The older woman reached out, tilting Katherine's chin up with a delicate but firm grip. Her touch was deceptively gentle, her fingers cool against Katherine's skin.
"You forget, Ma chérie," Madame Dupont continued, her tone shifting into something softer, something insidiously dangerous, "who you were before I found you. A girl with no name, no future. You were drowning, and I pulled you from the depths. I gave you a home, a life, a purpose." She smiled, tilting her head. "And yet, here you are, speaking of leaving as if you are not bound to me."
Katherine's chest tightened. The weight of years spent in the brothel settled on her like a heavy cloak. Memories flashed in her mind—cold nights huddled in alleyways, the biting hunger that had gnawed at her ribs, the fear that had once been her only companion. Madame Dupont had offered her safety, a place where no man could harm her without consequence. But at what cost?
Madame Dupont's fingers trailed down her cheek, her touch almost affectionate. "Tell me, chérie, does the bird in the gilded cage curse its keeper when she is the one who saved it from the storm?"
Katherine's breath hitched.
"Would you be sitting here today if not for me?" Madame Dupont pressed, her grip light but unyielding. "Would you have survived?"
The words slithered into Katherine's mind, wrapping around her thoughts like vines.
She had told herself she owed this woman nothing. That she was free.
But the way Madame Dupont looked at her now, with that cruel, patient smile, made her doubt everything.
Vincent had woken up that morning, expecting to see Katherine beside him. But the bed was empty. Cold.
Panic settled quickly as he threw on his coat and stormed downstairs.
"Sarah!"
The maid appeared, startled. "Yes, sir?"
"Where is Katherine?"
Sarah hesitated, wringing her hands. "She left early this morning, sir. She didn't say much, only that she had an errand."
Vincent's blood ran cold.
An errand? He knew better. Katherine wouldn't just leave without a word—not after everything. His mind scrambled for an explanation until it landed on the one place that made his stomach drop.
Madame Dupont.
She had gone back to the brothel.
Vincent's jaw clenched, a dark storm brewing in his chest. He had promised to keep her safe, to free her from that place. And yet, she had gone back, alone.
Without wasting another second, he grabbed his coat and stormed out into the streets, determination fueling his every step. The night air was crisp, biting against his skin, but he barely felt it. His thoughts were only on Katherine—on getting to her before it was too late, who knows what could happen to her.