The Villains Must Win
Chapter 225: No Second Chances 25

Chapter 225: No Second Chances 25

Lina awoke to the sound of birdsong and the distant hum of cicadas.

The sun poured through the arched windows, casting golden patterns on the hardwood floor.

For a fleeting second, she forgot where she was—until her eyes landed on the antique chandelier above and the lush silken drapes swaying gently.

She stretched under the crisp sheets and sighed, reluctant to leave the warmth. But her mind, always too quick to catch up, reminded her of yesterday.

Of Christian. Of Fredrich. Of the full hotels and the quiet welcome she’d returned to.

She washed and dressed, pulling on a simple cotton dress and sandals. When she opened her door, she found another tray waiting outside—this time with a croissant, a small bowl of strawberries, and a note written in Fredrich’s precise hand:

"You needn’t ask for breakfast. Just enjoy it. —F"

Her lips quirked into the faintest smile before she caught herself. She carried the tray into the room and ate on the small balcony overlooking the courtyard.

The fountain sparkled in the light, its water dancing in rhythmic arcs. Somewhere inside, Fredrich was likely already working—reading, plotting, or . . . whatever it was a man like him did in his day.

By midmorning, Lina found herself wandering the villa. Not snooping—just walking. Exploring. The estate had an old-world elegance that seemed untouched by time.

Velvet armchairs, oil paintings, sculptures frozen in motion. Everything was curated. Intentional.

She paused before a hallway lined with black-and-white photographs. Most were landscapes, but a few showed people. Soldiers. Families.

A young man that looked eerily like Fredrich—same eyes, same jaw—stood next to a classic motorcycle, frozen in a moment from another era.

"Curious?" a voice asked.

She jumped slightly and turned to see Fredrich standing at the end of the hall, holding two mugs of coffee.

"A little," she admitted. "This place feels more like a gallery than a home."

He handed her a mug and leaned against the wall. "It used to be. My grandfather was a collector. Art, history, people. He built this place to impress. To remind everyone that our family mattered."

"And now?"

Fredrich looked thoughtful. "Now it’s a refuge. A vault. I don’t show it off. I just . . . keep it."

Lina sipped the coffee. It was rich and strong, laced with something sweet—honey, maybe. "What do you keep here, Fredrich? Other than me."

He tilted his head, a trace of amusement in his eyes. "Memories. Mistakes. Secrets."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "That’s a lot for one house."

"That’s why it’s big."

They stood in companionable silence, the only sound the soft clinking of the fountain in the distance.

"Do you always take in strangers who show up on your private jet?" she asked.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Only the ones running from something."

She chuckled a little.

"Was he like this?" Fredrich asked, voice quieter now. "This Christian."

She didn’t answer immediately. She didn’t recall telling him about his name. But then again, she might have spilled it without her knowing.

"Worse. Smiles in public. Threats in private. I didn’t even notice it at first. How everything I was became something he wanted to own. Shape. Control."

Fredrich’s jaw ticked. "And your family?"

"I didn’t have one. My grandparents are all I have left."

He nodded slowly, as if piecing her story into something coherent in his mind. "You did the right thing, Lina. Getting out."

"Did I?" she whispered. "Or did I just delay the storm?"

Fredrich reached out then, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was feather-light.

"You didn’t," Fredrich said softly, his voice calm and even. "You survived it. That’s what matters. And you don’t have to be a stranger. You can stay here as long as you need. My home is open to you."

Lina gave a small, tired shake of her head. "I’ve already owed you too much. I don’t even know how to begin repaying you."

Fredrich’s lips lifted into a faint smile, but something flickered behind his eyes—sharp, unreadable. A glint that made her shiver despite the warmth of the room.

"Don’t worry about that," he said gently.

But Lina did worry. That was the problem.

Maybe it was his composure. Or the way he always seemed to know more than he let on. Or maybe it was because she could feel it—that invisible weight of a debt slowly forming. A favor given so freely now, but one that might come with a cost later.

Still, at the moment, she had no other options. No backup plan. No allies. No memories to rely on, no enchanted items tucked in her pocket to help her escape or teleport out of danger.

It was just her—Lina, stripped down to instinct and survival, dropped into a world she barely understood.

And somehow, in fleeing Christian’s obsession, she had stumbled into the territory of someone even more mysterious. Someone darker. Someone who, unlike Christian’s impulsive cruelty, masked his power with grace and silence.

Fredrich wasn’t just dangerous. He was secretive.

And that frightened her more than anything.

The air between them thickened—soft and charged. She didn’t step back, didn’t look away. He didn’t press.

Then, breaking the tension with grace, he turned and started down the hall. "Come," he said over his shoulder. "I want to show you something."

She followed him through another set of carved doors, into a glass conservatory filled with light and green. Vines curled up trellises. Small citrus trees bloomed with fragrant blossoms. A piano sat in the corner, old but polished.

"I didn’t know you had a garden," she murmured.

"Most don’t. It’s private."

She arched a brow. "But you’re showing me."

Fredrich gave her a look over his shoulder. "You’re not most."

What did he meant by that? He spoke like she wasn’t a stranger at all. Like they had known each other all along. _{f\ree webn ovel(.)com}

Before she could respond, he opened the piano lid and touched a few keys, the notes echoing gently among the leaves.