The lingering scent of cleaning supplies still hung heavy in the air, a testament to Lady’s meticulous efforts to make their home perfect. Sweat beaded on her brow as she peeled off her damp clothes, eager for a refreshing shower before Duke returned. Every day was a dance of domesticity, an unspoken promise of a future she eagerly anticipated.

She moved towards her dresser, her thoughts already drifting to the meal she’d prepare for him, a warm welcome after his long travels. Her hands reached for a fresh change of clothes, but then, a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision.

Behind her, silhouetted against the soft light of the bedroom, stood a figure. A black mask, adorned with a chilling red painted smile, obscured his face entirely. Her breath hitched. He was watching her. A primal fear seized her, freezing her in place. Even without seeing his eyes, she felt their intense, unblinking stare.

The hair on her arms prickled, her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He held a gun, casually, almost lazily, in his right hand. Not pointed at her, yet the silent threat was deafening. This wasn't a robbery; her phone lay untouched on the bedside table. He wanted something else. But what?

The air thickened with unspoken dread. She tried to move, to reach for her phone, but a subtle shake of his head stopped her cold. He anticipated her every thought, every desperate move. A silent, terrifying game of cat and mouse was unfolding in her own bedroom. She whispered a plea, a choked sound against the rising terror, but he remained still, a terrifying, silent observer. Then, he moved.