The Villains Must Win-Chapter 232: No Second Chances 32

Still, she played her role beautifully. Once, she even brought Fredrich a sketch she did of the villa’s garden. He didn’t say much. But the next morning, she found professional sketchbooks and graphite pencils laid out in her room.

She thanked him with a shy smile and a flushed cheek. It was an art form, this delicate act of manipulation. A dance on a razor’s edge.

She kept a notebook in her nightstand, documenting everything. His moods. What he ate. The books on his nightstand. The way he tilted his head when he was amused, or how his fingers always curled when he was angry.

It wasn’t about attraction anymore. It was chess.

Because if she wanted to win—really win—she needed to know him better than he knew himself.

And while Lina played the perfect role by day, she trained her mind by night. Studied behavior. Psychological patterns. Emotional manipulation. It wasn’t just about being good at games anymore.

This world wasn’t a game.

It was real. And every move counted.

By the end of the third week, Fredrich trusted her enough to leave her alone in the study for an hour.

She copied one of the keycards.

By the end of the fourth week, he started calling her "Angel."

She let him.

But behind that sweet smile and soft laugh was a blade.

She would win. Because unlike the last time—unlike that horrifying "game over" with blood in her ears—this time, she knew what she was up against.

And she would take down the king on this board.

One charming, dangerous move at a time.

====

The days bled into weeks. The weeks blurred into months.

At first, it felt like victory.

Fredrich was captivated by her now. The way his eyes softened when she entered a room, the way he leaned in when she spoke—she had him. Her plan was working.

The once-cold man with razor-sharp boundaries now touched her gently, sometimes even whispered her name like it was sacred.

Every morning, a new dress. Not chosen by her—but left on her bed by one of the maids, tailored perfectly to her figure, tagged with the logo of a designer she couldn’t pronounce but whose price tags could bankrupt a small country.

Every meal, exactly her favorite. Every bath drawn before she could even ask. Every room scented with her preferred blend of lavender and orange blossom. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

To any outsider, it would have looked like a fairytale. A dark prince. A beautiful captive. A golden cage made of marble and silk.

And for a while, Lina pretended she was okay with it.

At first, it was romantic.

He bought her a necklace once. It wasn’t just expensive—it was antique, one-of-a-kind, with an opal that shimmered like the sea.

"To match your eyes," he said, fastening it around her neck himself. His fingers lingered. His voice low. "You’re mine now."

She had smiled—like the good girl she was pretending to be—but the weight of that necklace felt heavier than any chain.

Then came the rules. Subtle. Elegant.

"Don’t wear red. It’s too bold for your soft features."

"Don’t talk to the gardener. He stares too much."

"Don’t walk alone in the south wing. I worry."

Always said with warmth. With care. With that unreadable expression that fell somewhere between affection and obsession.

Then, slowly, it escalated.

One evening, she asked for her phone. Just once. A moment of weakness.

Fredrich’s smile disappeared. He didn’t yell. He didn’t scold.

He simply said, "You don’t need it here. Everything you need is right in front of you."

The next day, the phone was gone. Her laptop? Now password-locked with a new code. Internet access? Severed.

Lina laughed it off at first. Joked to herself that it was just part of the act. That she was still in control. Still winning.

But then came the closets.

One morning, she tried on an old dress—one she wore in his private plane when she was running away from Christian. She came downstairs, proud of reclaiming a piece of herself.

Fredrich didn’t speak. He didn’t even touch his coffee.

When she returned to her room that night, her old clothes were gone. Replaced by gowns, silks, and heels chosen by him of course.

She asked the maid. The maid only smiled nervously and said, "Mr. Fredrich said you deserved better."

It wasn’t until the third month that Lina began to feel it: the suffocation.

It was in the way Fredrich always knew where she was. No matter what part of the estate she wandered into, he would appear. Like a shadow. Like fate. Like a cage with eyes.

She couldn’t even cry alone.

Once, when she quietly wept in the garden, thinking she was out of sight, he appeared beside her. Wiped her tears. Said nothing. Just held her face gently and whispered, "There’s no need for tears here, Lina. You’re safe with me."

And she was. Safe. Cared for. Adored.

But she was also trapped.

She tried to push once. Just once.

"I want to visit the city," she said.

Fredrich tilted his head. Smiled. "Everything you need is here."

"I just want some air. To feel normal again."

His gaze hardened for a split second. "You are normal. This is your life now."

The next day, all the cars disappeared. Her "permission" to roam the grounds was revoked. A polite maid informed her that her daily walks would now be supervised "for her protection."

The most terrifying part?

Fredrich never raised his voice. Never lost his temper.

Never struck a hand or threw a thing.

It was all done with love.

With sweetness.

With quiet possessiveness that felt like drowning in silk.

He would touch her hair and say, "You look best when you’re calm."

He would kiss her forehead and whisper, "I sleep easier knowing you’ll never leave me."

He would hold her in the dark and murmur, "The world doesn’t deserve you. But I do."

It wasn’t love.

It was ownership, wrapped in roses.

Lina smiled every day. Kissed him back. Played her part. But deep inside, the pressure was mounting. The fairytale mask was cracking. She didn’t know how long she could keep dancing on the edge of a knife.

Because one wrong step—and Fredrich wouldn’t just lock her heart.

He’d lock her away.

Just like the girl in the glass.