Trapped by the CEO

The Glass Fortress

Ten minutes is not enough time to pack a life.

Maya moved like a whirlwind, shoving clothes into two battered suitcases. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely work the zippers.

"Mommy, are we going on vacation?" Mia asked, clutching her stuffed bunny, her eyes wide with confusion.

"Sort of, baby," Maya lied, her voice tight. "We’re going to stay at... at a very fancy hotel for a while. It’s for my work."

"I don't want to go," Leo said from the corner. He wasn't packing. He was standing guard over his backpack, which contained his tablet and his tangle of wires. "That man is bad news. I checked his public profile. He has a reputation score of—"

"Leo, please," Maya begged, stopping to cup his face. "I need you to trust me. We have to go. Just for a little while. I won't let anything happen to you."

Leo looked at her, his dark eyes—so like his father's—filled with skepticism. But he nodded. "Okay. But I’m keeping my servers encrypted."

Maya turned to her own closet. She grabbed the essentials. Then, she reached into the back and pulled out the garment bag.

The black suit jacket.

And the hollowed-out book containing the silver chip.

She couldn't leave them here. If Mrs. Hernandez cleaned up, or if the landlord came in, they might find them. She had to take the evidence with her.

She shoved the garment bag deep into her suitcase, beneath her layers of cheap sweaters, and prayed Julian wouldn't demand a bag search.

"Time's up," a deep voice came from the hallway.

Maya zipped the bag shut. "We're coming."

The ride to the Upper East Side was silent.

The limousine felt less like a luxury car and more like a hearse. Mia fell asleep almost immediately, her head resting on Maya’s lap. Leo stared out the window, counting the streetlights, refusing to look at the man sitting opposite them.

Julian didn't look at them either. He was typing on his phone, the blue light illuminating the sharp angles of his face. But Maya could feel his presence. It was heavy, suffocating. Every time he shifted, her muscles tensed.

Finally, the car pulled into a private underground garage. They took a private elevator that opened directly into the penthouse.

"Whoa," Leo whispered, despite himself.

The doors opened to reveal a sprawling, two-story living space encased in glass. The city skyline twinkled below them like a carpet of diamonds. The floors were white marble; the furniture was sleek black leather. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

And completely cold.

"This is not a home," Leo whispered to Maya. "It’s a museum."

"Rooms are upstairs to the left," Julian said, checking his watch. "My housekeeper, Mrs. Greyson, will bring you dinner. Do not touch anything in this room. Do not enter my office. And do not leave the building without my permission."

"So we are prisoners," Maya said, her voice quiet but sharp.

Julian turned to look at her. He didn't deny it.

"You are guests under protective surveillance," he corrected smoothly. "Get the children settled. Then come back down. We need to discuss the terms of your... employment."

He turned and walked toward a massive mahogany door—his office—and shut it firmly.

Maya let out a breath she had been holding for an hour. She quickly ushered the kids upstairs. The guest room was larger than their entire apartment. It had two queen-sized beds and a view that cost millions.

"It’s pretty," Mia murmured, bouncing on the mattress.

"It’s temporary," Maya reminded them. She ordered pizza from the confused housekeeper, waited until Mia fell asleep, and watched Leo set up his "command station" on the nightstand.

"Mom," Leo said, not looking up from his screen. "His network security is insane. But I can see outgoing data packets. He’s looking for someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know yet. But he’s running a Level 10 background check."

Maya’s stomach dropped. He’s looking into me.

She kissed Leo on the forehead. "Go to sleep, bug. I have to go talk to the dragon."

"Don't let him eat you," Leo mumbled.

Maya smoothed her hair, took a deep breath, and walked back downstairs.

Julian was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He had taken off his suit jacket, and his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms.

He looked strikingly like the man from the hotel room five years ago. The memory of his touch, of his heat, flooded Maya’s mind. She shook it away.

"I’m here," she said.

Julian turned. He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes tracking her movement across the room.

"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the leather sofa.

Maya sat on the edge of the cushion, her back straight. "What is this about, Julian? You have us here. You have your 'security.' What more do you want?"

"Truth," Julian said. He walked over and placed a folder on the coffee table between them. "I don't like mysteries, Maya. And you are a very confusing mystery."

"I’m just an assistant," she deflected.

"No," Julian corrected. "You are a woman with no digital footprint for five years. You dropped out of a top-tier engineering program with a 4.0 GPA. You disappeared off the face of the earth, and you resurfaced today with two children who look suspiciously... familiar."

He tapped the folder.

"I ran a background check on you during the drive over."

Maya’s heart hammered against her ribs. "And?"

"And I found something interesting about the father of your children."

Maya froze. He knows. He found out. It’s over.

She gripped the leather of the sofa, preparing to beg. Preparing to run.

"You told me he was dead," Julian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He leaned over the table, trapping her with his gaze. "You said he died before they were born."

"He did," Maya lied, her voice trembling.

Julian flipped the folder open. It was empty.

"Then why," Julian hissed, "is there no death certificate? No marriage license? No obituary?"

He tossed the empty folder aside and stepped closer, invading her personal space. The scent of sandalwood and danger enveloped her.

"There is no record of a father ever existing, Maya. Which means one of two things."

He placed his hands on the back of the sofa, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Either you are a virgin birth..."

His eyes dropped to her lips, then back up to her terrified eyes.

"...Or you are hiding him from me."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, plastic packet. He tossed it onto the table. It landed with a soft clack.

It was a DNA swab kit.

"We’re going to find out the truth," Julian whispered. "I want to test the boy."