Trapped in His Love

Chapter 10：Suite 1128

The hotel rose from the city like a monument to greed.

Forty stories of glass and gold, the flagship of Celeste Wei’s empire. Sarah stood across the street, watching the revolving doors swallow guests in designer clothes. Beside her, Kaelan’s jaw was set so tight she could see the cords in his neck.

“You don’t have to come inside,” she said.

“I’m not letting you face her alone.”

“She said alone.”

“And you said we lie.” He turned to her, his silver eyes flat and cold the look of a man who had already decided what he was willing to do. “I’ll wait in the lobby. If you’re not down in one hour, I come up. With or without an invitation.”

Sarah nodded. She had expected nothing less.

They crossed the street together. The doorman recognized Kaelan his face flickered with surprise, then carefully neutral politeness. “Mr. Vance. Ms. Wei is expecting your companion. The private elevator is reserved.”

Kaelan’s hand tightened on Sarah’s waist. “I’ll wait in the lobby.”

“Of course, sir.”

Sarah stepped into the private elevator alone. The doors closed, and the world narrowed to polished brass and her own reflection. She had dressed in black —simple, defiant, nothing that said victim.

The elevator rose.

Suite 1128 occupied the entire fourteenth floor.

The doors opened into a living room larger than Sarah’s entire apartment. White marble floors. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city and everywhere the art paintings stolen from galleries, sculptures from private collections and in the center of the far wall, alone in a Crowded Room.

Sarah’s painting. The one Celeste had claimed she would burn.

It hung there like a trophy.

“You came.”

Celeste emerged from a side room, dressed in black silk, her hair loose. She held Sarah’s paintbrush like a scepter twirling it between her fingers, examining the stained bristles.

“You took my things,” Sarah said.

“I borrowed them.” Celeste smiled. “There’s a difference. Borrowed things can be returned. Eventually.”

“Where’s the rest of my work?”

“Safe. In a climate controlled vault. I’m not a monster, Sarah. I’m a collector.” She gestured to the couch. “Sit. We have things to discuss.”

Sarah didn’t sit. She walked to the window, her back to Celeste, and stared at the city below.

“You want Kaelan.”

“I want the Vance empire. Kaelan is just the key.” Celeste moved to stand beside her. “You’re young. Twenty two, right? You think love is enough. But love doesn’t pay lawyers. Love doesn’t buy galleries. Love doesn’t protect you from people like me.”

“People like you?”

“People with resources patience and absolutely nothing to lose.” Celeste set the paintbrush on a marble side table. “I’m offering you a way out. Take it.”

“What way?”

“Leave him. Go back to your studio. I’ll return your paintings, fund your next exhibition, and you’ll never see me again.” She tilted her head. “Stay, and I will make your life a endless war. Every canvas you paint, I’ll buy and burn. Every gallery you approach, I’ll own. Every breath you take, I’ll be there, reminding you that you chose a man over your art.”

Sarah turned from the window.

“You think my art is separate from him?”

Celeste’s smile faltered.

“Every painting I’ve made since I met him,” Sarah said, “every brushstroke, every colour it’s all him. The jealousy. The hunger. The way he looks at me like I’m the only real thing in the world.” She stepped closer to Celeste. “You can’t take that from me. Because it’s not in the paintings. It’s in me.”

Celeste’s composure cracked. For a fraction of a second, Sarah saw something raw — loneliness, maybe, or envy.

Then the mask snapped back.

“Fine.” Celeste picked up her phone, pressed a button, and spoke into it. “Send him up.”

The private elevator opened again.

Kaelan stepped out, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His eyes found Sarah first scanning her for harm then settled on Celeste.

“You invited me.”

“I invited both of you.” Celeste poured herself a glass of champagne. “For a final demonstration.”

She pressed another button on her phone. The windows darkened smart glass turning opaque. Then a screen lowered from the ceiling, displaying a live feed.

Sarah’s studio. The one she rented outside the city.

Men in black were inside. Not stealing destroying. Canvases slashed. Brushes snapped. Her easel kicked apart.

Sarah’s breath caught. “Stop.”

“I can’t.” Celeste sipped her champagne. “I gave the order an hour ago. This is live, not recorded. By the time you get there, it’ll be rubble.”

Kaelan moved.

Not toward Celeste toward the screen. He stood in front of it, watching Sarah’s life be dismantled in real time. His hands curled into fists. His shoulders shook.

“You’re a monster,” he said.

“I’m a businesswoman.” Celeste set down her glass. “And you, Kaelan, are a liability. Your obsession with this girl has cost you a fortune. But I’m willing to forgive. Sign the contract. Marry me. And I’ll rebuild her studio. Better than before.”

Sarah grabbed Kaelan’s arm. “Don’t.”

“She’ll destroy everything you love,” Celeste continued. “Piece by piece. Until you have nothing left but each other and even that, I can take. I have resources. I have time. I have lawyers who can argue that a woman with a history of mental illness (your mother, Kaelan) passed down instability. I can have Sarah committed.”

The room went silent.

Kaelan turned from the screen. His face was white.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Celeste smiled. “I have a psychiatrist on retainer. Very convincing. He’ll testify that Sarah’s obsession with you is a danger to herself and others. A seventy two hour hold becomes a thirty day commitment becomes a year. By the time she gets out, you’ll have signed the contract just to see her again.”

Sarah felt the floor tilt beneath her.

This wasn’t a game anymore. This wasn’t a rivalry. This was extinction.

Kaelan walked toward Celeste. Slowly. Deliberately. Each step measured.

“You threatened to have her committed.”

“I threatened to have her helped.”

“You threatened to take her from me.”

Celeste’s smile wavered. “Kaelan“

He stopped inches from her. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I spent three years watching Sarah from the shadows. Three years collecting her hair ties, her receipts, her thrown away paintbrushes. Three years learning to control the part of me that wanted to lock her in a room and never let her see the sun.”

He reached out and touched Celeste’s chin not gently. Like a man examining a thing he was about to break.

“You think you’re a monster? You’re an amateur.”

Celeste tried to step back. Kaelan’s hand caught her wrist.

“I’ve killed before,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Not with my hands. With my resources. A rival who threatened my grandfather. A journalist who got too close to Sarah’s apartment. They don’t disappear they just… stop being problems.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” He released her wrist. “Check your offshore accounts. The ones you think are hidden. I had my lawyers freeze them this morning. Every dollar you planned to use to bribe Sarah’s psychiatrist? Gone.”

Celeste’s phone buzzed. Then again. Then a third time.

She looked at the screen. Her face went gray.

“You can’t“

“I just did.” Kaelan stepped back, took Sarah’s hand, and pulled her to his side. “You wanted a war, Celeste. You just lost the first battle.”

He turned to Sarah. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Sarah didn’t move. She looked at Celeste at the woman who had stolen her paintings, destroyed her studio, threatened her freedom. “I want my paintbrush back.”

Celeste’s hand trembled as she picked up the brush from the side table. She held it out.

Sarah took it. Then she walked to the wall where Alone in a Crowded Room hung, lifted the painting off its hook, and carried it to the door.

“This is mine,” she said. “The rest you can burn. But this one stays with me.”

Celeste didn’t answer. She was staring at her phone, watching zeros drain from her accounts.

Kaelan pressed the elevator button. The doors opened.

As Sarah stepped inside, she looked back one last time.

“You said you wanted to collect me,” she said. “But you don’t understand what I am. I’m not a painting to be hung on a wall. I’m the fire that burns the gallery down.”

The doors closed.

In the elevator, Kaelan pulled Sarah into his arms and held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered into her hair. “About the journalist. About the rival.”

“I know.”

“Does that scare you?”

She pulled back just enough to see his face. His silver eyes were wild, wet, desperate.

“No,” she said. “It makes me sure.”

She kissed him deep, slow, claiming.

The elevator reached the lobby. The doors opened. Mira stood there, phone in hand, jaw dropped.

“I just got a tip that someone froze Celeste Wei’s accounts,” Mira said. “And that her demolition crew was arrested for trespassing. And that the historical society is now suing her for improper deed transfer.” She looked between them. “What did you two do?”

Kaelan smiled — a real smile, sharp and satisfied.

“We won.”

“This round,” Sarah corrected. “Not the war.”

Mira’s phone buzzed. She looked at the screen, and her face went pale.

“Uh. Guys.”

“What?”

Mira turned the phone around.

A breaking news alert:

“Celeste Wei Found Dead in Suite 1128 – Apparent Suicide. Note Left: ‘I’m sorry. Tell Kaelan he was right.’”

Kaelan’s smile vanished.

Sarah’s blood turned to ice.

“No,” Kaelan whispered. “I didn’t...I only froze her accounts. I didn’t“

Mira grabbed his arm. “Kaelan. Breathe.”

“She’s dead. She’s dead and I threatened her an hour ago. The police will“

“The police will see a suicide note,” Sarah said slowly. “And frozen accounts. And a woman who had everything to lose.” She looked up at him. “Did you kill her?”

“No. I swear. I would never....I’m not“

“Then we have nothing to fear.”

But even as she said it, Sarah’s gaze drifted back to the elevator doors. To the suite above. To the woman who had promised to win and had just lost everything.

Including her life.

The lobby doors burst open. Police flooded in.

An officer approached them. “Mr. Vance? Ms. Lin? We need to ask you some questions about Celeste Wei’s death.”

Kaelan’s hand found Sarah’s. Squeezed.

“Of course,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his fingers. “We’ll cooperate fully.”

As the officer led them toward a side room, Sarah caught Mira’s eye.

Mira mouthed two words: I’ll help.

Then the door closed, and Sarah and Kaelan were alone with the police and a dead woman’s final message.

“Tell Kaelan he was right.”

Right about what?

Sarah didn’t know. But as she sat down across from the detective, she made a silent promise: she would find out and whoever had really killed Celeste Wei whether it was suicide, or something else would answer for it.

Because Celeste had been many things. But she had not been a woman who gave up.

End Of Chapter 10 • To Be Continued