The Alchemist of Broken Dreams by Sienna Rose Blackwell 63

Chapter 63 

DYLAN 

It was already dark outside when someone finally knocked on my door. I couldn’t help but smile bitterly at the irony of it. Someone was knocking on my door when I was the one locked inside. 

I was kind of surprised when a middle–aged woman walked into my room. She had a long, beautiful dress, and then she placed it right on top of the bed. 

“Good evening, madam. I’m here to assist you with your preparation,” she greeted. 

“Preparation? Preparation for what?” I asked in confusion. 

“Master is expecting you to join him for dinner.” 

“I’m not joining anyone for dinner. They are holding me here against my will. Are they expecting me to just eat with them and treat them as a friend?” 

It was a misplaced anger towards her, but I couldn’t hold off my emotions anymore. She was probably working for them and has no say in this, and I felt sorry for that. 

“I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” I apologized. 

“I completely understand, madam. I’m only following orders,” she replied. 

“Will you get in trouble if I say no?” I asked, just making sure that I’m not causing harm to innocent ones. 

“I will probably not. But just a word of advice, don’t.” 

She looks like she was pleading despite her telling me that she will not get in trouble. 

I raised my head and looked at her proudly. “Tell your master, I’m not going to talk to him until he lets me talk to my husband,” I said. 

She gave me a long, unreadable look before nodding. There was something heavy in her eyes, like she already knew how this would end. 

“As you wish, madam,” she repeated softly. 

She turned and left the room without another word, the door closing behind her with a quiet click that echoed far too loudly in the silence. I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding and sank onto the edge of the bed, my hands trembling in my lap. 

The dress lay there, untouched. Elegant. Expensive. Completely wrong for a woman to be held against her will. 

I stared at it for a long moment before turning my gaze toward the window. Night had fully settled outside, the grounds swallowed by darkness, the mansion glowing faintly with warm lights that only made everything feel colder. Somewhere beyond these walls, Beckett existed. Somewhere, he was living his life, unaware or maybe very aware of where I was. 

And that scared me the most. 

Minutes passed. Then more. Time dragged until it felt like it was deliberately testing my patience. 

Then I heard the footsteps again–slow, steady, and unhurried. My heart started racing, not out of fear alone, but something stranger. A pull. A quiet sense of familiarity that made no sense at all. 

I pressed my palms against my thighs, grounding myself. “Get it together,” I told myself.. 

10:39 Wed, Jan 7 

Chapter 63 

The door opened. 

This time, it wasn’t the woman. 

A man stepped inside, tall enough that the room seemed to shrink around him. Broad shoulders, sharp lines, and a Lace so striking it almost felt unreal–like something sculpted rather than born. The kind of beauty that didn’t try to impress, yet commanded attention without effort. For a split second, my breath caught, and I hated myself for it. 

He didn’t rush. He didn’t smile. 

He took in the room calmly, his eyes lingering on the untouched dress on the bed before finally settling on me. When his gaze met mine, something stirred in my chest–recognition without memory, warmth without reason. 

I felt like I’d seen him somewhere. 

“So,” he said, voice deep and steady. 

“So, what?” I shot back, folding my arms, refusing to let him see how shaken I felt. 

His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. “You wanted to talk to your husband. So here I am.” 

I stared at him for a second before a laugh slipped out–sharp, disbelieving. Then another, louder this time. I shook my head as if that alone could clear the absurdity of it. 

“You got me there,” I said, still laughing. “You really do have a sense of humor, mister. But enough of the jokes.” My laughter faded, replaced by steel. “Call my husband. Now. And let me go.” 

He didn’t react the way I expected. No anger. No mockery. Just patience. 

“I am your husband,” he said quietly. 

The words landed wrong. Too calm. Too certain. 

I scoffed again, though my chest tightened. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe that?” 

“You don’t have to,” he replied. “But it doesn’t erase the fact that you are indeed mine.” 

“In your dreams. I don’t even know you, mister.” I snapped. “My husband is Beckett.” 

At the sound of that name, his eyes immediately turned so dark that it sent shivers down 

“Was that the lies he told you about?” he asked in a cold tone. 

my 

spine. 

I took a step back, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Stop. Just stop this. You think confusing me will make me cooperate?” 

“No,” he said softly, almost gently. “I don’t need your cooperation. I’m not letting you go–whether you like it or not.” 

The words hit me like a slap. 

My eyes widened, my breath hitching as disbelief rushed through me. For a moment, I just stared at him, trying to understand how someone could say something so calmly, so confidently, as if he were stating an unchangeable fact. 

Does he really think he can lock me up here without consequences? 

“You can’t do that!” I shouted, my voice echoing against the walls. Anger surged through me, hot and sharp, masking the fear creeping up my spine. “You have no right. This is illegal! I will scream, I will call the police, I-” 

He smirked, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. 

10:39 Wed, Jan 7 

Chapter 63 

The door opened. 

This time, it wasn’t the woman. 

A man stepped inside, tall enough that the room seemed to shrink around him. Broad shoulders, sharp lines, and a face so striking it almost felt unreal–like something sculpted rather than born. The kind of beauty that didn’t try to impress, yet commanded attention without effort. For a split second, my breath caught, and I hated myself for it. 

He didn’t rush. He didn’t smile. 

He took in the room calmly, his eyes lingering on the untouched dress on the bed before finally settling on me. When his gaze met mine, something stirred in my chest–recognition without memory, warmth without reason. 

I felt like I’d seen him somewhere. 

“So,” he said, voice deep and steady. 

“So, what?” I shot back, folding my arms, refusing to let him see how shaken I felt. 

His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. “You wanted to talk to your husband. So here I am.” 

I stared at him for a second before a laugh slipped out–sharp, disbelieving head as if that alone could clear the absurdity of it. 

Then another, louder this time. I shook my 

“You got me there,” I said, still laughing. “You really do have a sense of humor, mister. But enough of the jokes.” My laughter faded, replaced by steel. “Call my husband. Now. And let me go.” 

He didn’t react the way I expected. No anger. No mockery. Just patience. 

“I am your husband,” he said quietly. 

The words landed wrong. Too calm. Too certain. 

I scoffed again, though my chest tightened. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe 

“You don’t have to,” he replied. “But it doesn’t erase the fact that you are indeed mine.” 

“In your dreams. I don’t even know you, mister.” I snapped. “My husband is Beckett.” 

At the sound of that name, his eyes immediately turned so dark that it sent shivers down my spine. 

“Was that the lies he told you about?” he asked in a cold tone. 

I took a step back, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Stop. Just stop this. You think confusing me will make me cooperate?” 

“No,” he said softly, almost gently. “I don’t need your cooperation. I’m not letting you go–whether you like it or not.” 

The words hit me like a slap. 

My eyes widened, my breath hitching as disbelief rushed through me. For a moment, I just stared at him, trying to understand how someone could say something so calmly, so confidently, as if he were stating an unchangeable fact. 

Does he really think he can lock me up here without consequences? 

“You can’t do that!” I shouted, my voice echoing against the walls. Anger surged through me, hot and sharp, masking the fear creeping up my spine. “You have no right. This is illegal! I will scream, I will call the police, I—” 

He smirked, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. 

10:39 Wed, Jan 7 

Chapter 663 

“Watch me,” he replied. 

That smirk—it wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t kind either. It was the look of someone who knew he held every card. 

I clenched my fists. “You think money or power makes you untouchable?” I demanded. “People will notice I’m gone? 

“They already have,” he said calmly. 

The room felt smaller all of a sudden. “What does that mean?” 

“It means,” he continued, stepping closer–not threatening, not rushed-“that everyone who needs an explanation already has one.” 

My heart pounded wildly. “Y–You’re lying.” 

He smirked, “Am I?” 

That answer unsettled me more than anything else he had said. 

I swallowed hard. “Why are you doing this to me?” My voice cracked despite my effort. “Why me?” 

His expression shifted then. The smug certainty faded, replaced by something deeper–something raw and unreadable. 

“Because you’re already mine,” he said quietly. “You just don’t remember it yet.” 

I laughed bitterly, though my chest ached. “You expect me to believe that?” 

“No,” he said, meeting my gaze steadily. “But you don’t have a choice but to stay beside me because there’s no chance I will ever let you go again.” 

That familiarity again. That unsettling certainty, like he kn 

“I will leave this place,” I said firmly. “One way or another.” 

He nodded, almost approving. 

parts of me I had never shared. 

“I know,” he replied. “And I like to see you try,” he said before tapping his finger on my nose as he leaned closer, leaving only 

a few inches of space between our faces. “Now, be a doll and get ready for dinner,” he commanded. 

I clenched my fist as I looked at him sharply. “No.” I firmly answered. 

He smirked as his eyes glowed in burning desire. “Do you need my help?” he teased. 

My eyes widened in surprise. “You wouldn’t dare,” I warned him, forcing my chin up even as unease curled in my stomach. 

He didn’t answer. 

Instead, the world tilted without warning. 

I gasped as my feet left the ground, my body flipping upside down in one swift motion. A startled yelp escaped me as I found myself slung over his shoulder, my protests useless as he carried me towards the huge bathroom like I weighed nothing at all. 

“Put me down!” I protested, pounding weakly against his back. 

He ignored me. 

Moments later, he set me down beneath the shower, the cool tiles biting against my skin. I immediately wrapped my arms around myself, instinctively trying to shield what little dignity I felt I had left. My heart hammered wildly as I stared up at 

Chapter 63 

him, bracing myself for what he might do