Fated To My Billionaire Saviour

Chapter 15: The Confrontation

Ella

“Hahaha, we have such eager buyers." He laughed as he headed toward the door. Then he paused. "Oh, and Ella? Don't bother trying to call for any rescue, because no one's coming.”

As they left, I slumped over my work table, feeling more hopeless than I'd ever felt in my life.

The morning came way too early. I hadn't slept a wink after Victor's bombshell about tomorrow's auction. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jon's empty stare, Maya's defeated posture, and Sophia's complete withdrawal from reality. That would be me in less than 24 hours.

A sharp knock interrupted my thoughts.

"Miss Devereaux," Alice's voice carried through the door, but something was off. She sounded... different. Should I say More detached?

"Mr. Dane requests your immediate presence in his private office."

I glanced at the clock. 6:30 AM.

"Phew… Nightmare,” I mumbled. Whatever Victor wanted couldn't be good.

"I'll be right there," I called back, throwing on yesterday's clothes. But my hands shook as I tried to button my blouse.

“Get it together, Ella!.” I murmured, slapping the back of my palm. "You survived Marcus's betrayal. You can survive this too.”

When I stepped out of my room, Alice was waiting in the hallway. She quickly turned away as I stepped out, avoiding my gaze.

As we walked through the mansion's corridors, I noticed something I'd missed before, there were security cameras in every corner, and I mean every single corner. How had I been so blind?

"Alice," I whispered, "what's this about?"

She didn't respond, instead, she just quickened her pace.

Victor's private office was on the third floor, in a section of the house I'd never been allowed to enter. The door was solid mahogany with brass fixtures that probably cost more than most people's cars. Alice knocked twice, paused, then knocked once more.

"Enter," Victor's voice commanded from within.

The office was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the estate grounds. But what caught my attention were the multiple computer monitors arranged across one wall, each of them showing different camera feeds from throughout the house.

Including my bedroom.

"Ah, Ella," Victor didn't bother turning around from where he stood examining the monitors. "Did you sleep well? Though I suppose I already know the answer to that."

My stomach dropped as I saw myself on one of the screens, pacing back and forth in my room at 3 AM.

"You've been watching me sleep?" The words came out as barely a whisper.

"Oh, my dear child," Victor finally turned, and his cultured gentleman mask had completely vanished. In its place was something cold, and utterly ruthless. "I've been watching everything you do. Every breath, every movement, every little midnight adventure."

He pressed a button, and the monitors switched to different footage.

Footages of me discovering the recording device in my room, of me opening the hidden passage, and of me talking with Jon, Maya, and Sophia in the basement.

"Impressive detective work," Victor mused as he settled behind his massive oak desk. "Though I must say, your timing could use some work. That little basement visit of yours lasted exactly two hours and seventeen minutes."

"You knew about that the whole time?"

"Ella, darling, I know about everything that happens in my house." He leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Did you really think I'd leave valuable assets unmonitored? Did you think those hidden passages were actually secret?"

"But Maya said…"

"Maya said exactly what I instructed her to say," Victor interrupted smoothly. "You see, my dear, your new friends have been my guests for quite some time. Long enough to understand the consequences of not following directions."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" Another button press. The monitors now showed footage of Maya talking to someone off-camera. "Tell her about the hidden passages," Victor's voice commanded from the speakers. "Make her think she's found allies. But don't mention that we're listening to every word."

"Yes, Mr. Dane. I understand." Maya's voice responded

My legs gave out, and I collapsed into the chair across from his desk. "No. No, that's not... Maya wouldn't..."

"Maya wants to live, Ella. As do Jon and Sophia. Survival makes people remarkably cooperative." Victor stood and moved to the window. "The basement meetings and the touching stories about artists disappearing were all cooked up to make you feel like you had friends."

"Why? Why go through all that trouble just to deceive me?"

"Because, my brilliant girl, I needed to understand exactly what kind of person you are." He turned back to me, and I saw genuine admiration in his eyes. "Your mother was the same way. She was stubborn, resourceful, and was unwilling to break easily. It's what made her so valuable, and it's what makes you invaluable."

"Stop talking about her like you knew her!"

"But I did know her." Victor returned to his desk and pulled out a thick manila folder. "Lucy Devereaux worked for me for three years before she got..." He paused.

He spread photographs across the desk. I saw my mother standing next to Victor at what looked like a gallery opening. Both of them were smiling like old friends.

"This is impossible," I breathed, reaching for one of the photos. "My mother would never work for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Victor chuckled. "Ella, your mother created that textile encoding system for me. Every piece she made during those three years contained information I needed hidden in plain sight. Bank account numbers, shipping routes, contact information, she hid everything under beautiful patterns that looked like innocent artwork."

"She was... she was helping you?" I asked in disbelief as the photographs swam before my eyes.

"Let's just leave that for another day."

“What happened to my mother?" I asked as I locked my eyes against he’s.

“Enough with the question young lady, you know the answer to that already. Your mom died in an accident." He blurted.

"An accident you say?”

"Ella!” He screamed my name in range. "No more questions about your mother. This should be the last time you bring this up, else I'll tie your tongue to a tree. Understand?”

"Yes.” I replied like a wounded lion.

"Mr. Kozlov has paid a substantial premium for exclusive access to your talents. Twelve million dollars, to be exact."

"Twelve million?" I screamed the number so loud I think other staff heard me.

"You're quite the investment. You see, Kozlov runs a network that requires constant communication between various... associates... across international borders. Traditional methods are too easily traced. But artistic works? Beautiful textiles that travel through galleries and auction houses? Those are invisible."

The full scope of their plan crystallized in my mind. "You want me to be their communication system."

"I want you to be their communication system, their record keeper, their living, breathing encryption device." Victor's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Every piece you create will carry messages, coordinates, financial data, all encoded in patterns so subtle that even experienced investigators would see nothing but art."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll watch your basement friends die very slowly and very painfully." He pressed another button, and the monitors showed Jon, Maya, and Sophia in what looked like a medical facility. They were strapped to gurneys, and a man in scrubs was preparing syringes. "I believe you met Dr. Reeves during your evening eavesdropping. He's quite skilled at behavior modification."

"You bastard," I whispered.

"I prefer 'businessman,'" Victor corrected. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You have exactly forty-eight hours to create three presentation pieces for Mr. Kozlov. He wants to see your encoding abilities firsthand before finalizing the purchase."

He slid a folder across the desk. "These are the messages you'll embed. Financial transfers, shipping schedules, and contact protocols for his Eastern European operations."

I stared at the folder like it was a poisonous snake. "I won't do it."

"Oh, but you will." Victor's smile was pure evil. "Because if you don't, I'll have Dr. Reeves demonstrates his newest neural experiment on your friends. And once he's finished with them, I'll sell what's left to buyers who are far less... civilized... than Mr. Kozlov."

My hands shook as I reached for the folder. Inside were pages of coded information, bank routing numbers, geographic coordinates, names and addresses. Everything needed to run a criminal empire.

"Excellent choice." Victor stood and moved toward the door. "Alice will provide you with materials and escort you to your new workspace. And Ella?"

I looked up at him, hatred burning in my chest like acid.

"Don't even think about trying to encode any hidden messages of your own. I'll be reviewing every tiny detail. One deviation from my instructions, and your friends start screaming."

As his hand touched the door handle, he paused. "Oh, and one more thing. That charming Mr. Blackwood who visited yesterday? The one you seemed so taken with?"

"What about him?" My heart stopped.

"He's not who you think he is, dear. Adrian Blackwood has his own agenda, and trust me when I say it doesn't include rescuing damsels in distress." Victor's grin stretched wider. "In fact, some might say he's as dangerous as I am. Just in different ways."