Fated To My Billionaire Saviour

Chapter 3: Caged

Ella

The car that arrived to pick me up at 10 am wasn't what I expected.

I had imagined a corporate sedan would come pick me up, but here waiting at the curb was a vintage Rolls-Royce. Its black paint glittered like obsidian. A man with silver hair and kind eyes stepped down and opened the door for me.

"Miss Devereaux? I'm James Don, and I'll be driving you today. Mr. Dane is looking forward to meeting you."

Looking forward to meeting me, as if I were a guest rather than enslaved labor.

"Thank you, James," I mumbled as I stepped into the car.

Since it was a long drive through the countryside, I was able to think and swallow the bitter pills of my predicament. Marcus had been thorough in destroying me; he left me with nothing.

My cell phone service was terminated, my bank account was frozen, and worst of all, my credit card was canceled. All I had was the clothes on my back and a small suitcase of personal items.

"First time to Ravenwood?" James asked as he caught my eye in the rearview mirror.

"Yes," I muttered.

"It's something to see. Mr. Dane has excellent taste." He paused, glancing at me again. "Though I should mention, he's having an important meeting today. Mr. Blackwood from Cybweb Tech is expected shortly after your arrival."

Cybweb Tech. Even in my current state, I recognized the name. One of the most powerful tech and investment companies in the country. I have never met the CEO, but I know how powerful he is in the whole city. Rumours have it that he built his company from scratch.

The mansion looked breathtaking when we arrived. Gardens stretched in every direction, perfectly manicured and beautiful, everything looked colourful as it should be. The environment should have felt welcoming, but instead, it felt like a beautiful prison.

"Miss Devereaux. Welcome to Ravenwood."

Victor Dane appeared to be in his fifties, not what I expected, but his easy smile looked pretentious rather than warm.

"Mr. Dane," I stretched my hand and accepted his offered handshake. "Thank you for… this opportunity," I replied with a warm smile, just for formalities, though.

“Please, call me Victor. And I should be thanking you. Marcus showed me some of your work, and I must commend your extraordinary talent. It’s an honor to have you here, Ella.”

Instead of feeling good, my stomach churned at his compliment. “Thank you," I replied, forcing a smile. There was nothing to feel good about after knowing the fact that Marcus stole my work and now owns all my creations.

"Alice will show you to your room. We'll start work immediately. I have a guest arriving soon who's particularly interested in commissioning unique pieces." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Ella? I do hope you'll find your stay here... educational."

Something in his tone made my skin crawl.

"This way, ma'am." A young lady, whom I assumed was the maid, led me through corridors lined with priceless artwork. The room on the second floor turned out to be an entire suite, more luxurious than I'd ever experienced.

"This is your room. Your belongings have been arranged.” The lady in her mid-30s pointed to the wardrobe in the corner of the large room.

“Mr. Dane asked me to give you this," Alice said, handing me a thick envelope. "He wants you in the studio in thirty minutes."

“Thank you, Alice," I replied as I collected the brown envelope she held out to me. She left, and I tore open the envelope with shaking fingers.

Inside were detailed instructions and... rules I must follow. I made sure I carefully read through every word this time. I didn't want what happened with Marcus to ever repeat itself; I guess I learned the hard way.

My heart sank as I read through them. No meeting with friends. No personal calls. All work is subject to approval. Bla bla bla.

This wasn't employment, it was imprisonment. “Damn,” I exhaled.

I barely had time to splash water on my face before Alice returned to escort me to the studio. The space was breathtaking, it had floor-to-ceiling windows, and every tool and material an artist could dream of were carefully laid out. But as I stood there, all I could think about was how to escape.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

I spun around at the unfamiliar voice. A man stood in the doorway, and my breath caught. He was tall, and he had broad shoulders that filled the frame; his dark curly hair stood out, and he had the most piercing gray eyes I'd ever seen. He wore an expensive blue suit with the confidence of someone who owned the world.

"I...I… yes, it's beautiful," I stammered, suddenly aware of how I must look; disheveled, exhausted, or even trapped.

He stepped closer, those gray eyes studied me with an intensity that made my pulse race. "You must be the artist Victor mentioned. I'm Adrian Blackwood."

Adrian Blackwood. The CEO himself.

"Ella Devereaux," I managed to speak, surprised when he extended his hand for a proper handshake rather than the power play I expected from a CEO.

"The textile designer," he said, and something in his voice suggested he knew more about my work than Victor's brief description would have provided. "I've seen your pieces at the Morrison Gallery. You did a great job, you know? Remarkable use of color and texture."

Heat flooded my cheeks. Someone of his stature had noticed my work? Before Marcus destroyed everything?

"Thank you, that means…"

"Ah, Mr. Blackwood!" Victor's voice cut through the moment like a blade. "I see you've met my latest acquisition."

Acquisition. The word hit me like a slap. “Is that what he sees me as?” I whispered to myself in disbelief.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Adrian's jaw tighten almost imperceptibly.

"She's not an acquisition, Victor," Adrian said, his voice carrying a quiet authority. "She's human," he emphasized as his brow furrowed in disapproval.

I was visibly shocked where I stood, couldn’t move even an inch. Did the CEO of Cybweb Tech just speak up for me, a commoner? Is this really happening, or am I just imagining things?

"Of course, of course. Poor choice of words. Ella is our new artist in residence." Victor's smile faltered for just a moment.

"Artist in residence," Adrian repeated slowly as his gaze moved between Victor and me. "How... voluntary is this residency?"

The question hung in the air like a loaded gun. I wanted to scream the truth, but Victor's cold stare warned me to stay silent.

"Completely voluntary," Victor lied smoothly. "Ella needed a change of environment after she experienced some... personal setbacks. We're providing her with everything she needs to rebuild her career from scratch."

“From scratch?” Adrian stared at me with deep concern. I noticed he felt suspicious of the whole scenario, which made the tension in the room very intense. I also noticed his stare held something deeper than just a first-time meeting.

Victor, immediately seeing the situation, quickly steered Adrian toward the door.

"Shall we discuss your commission in the study? Ella has work to begin."

As they left, Adrian glanced back at me. That single look contained a promise I didn't dare hope for; the look had the words ‘this conversation wasn't over’ written all over it.