Episode 3: The Gilded Cage
503 Words
Morning After
The prescription bottle burned a hole in Lena’s palm as Julian’s shower ran in the ensuite. She’d slept curled in a chair, her father’s name screaming in her mind.
Alive. He’s alive.
The bathroom door swung open, steam rolling out like fog. Julian stood there, a towel slung low on his hips, water glistening on the scars she now couldn’t unsee.
“Sleep well?” he mocked, reaching for the medicine cabinet.
Lena blocked it, the pill bottle thrust between them. “Explain this.”
His gaze dropped to the label. For a fraction of a second fear? Then his mask slammed back down.
“You’re mistaken.”
“Bullshit. This is my father’s”
Julian snatched it, his voice lethally calm. “This penthouse has hosted many… guests. Some leave things behind.”
She didn’t believe him. Not when his knuckles whitened around the bottle.
The Press Conference
Flashbulbs exploded as they stepped onto the Thorne Industries podium. Julian’s hand settled possessively at the small of Lena’s back, his smile camera-perfect.
“Ms. Carter and I have been privately engaged for months,” he lied smoothly.
Reporters shouted questions. “How did you meet?” “Why keep it secret?”
Then a voice cut through the noise: “Is it true this is a sham to cover up the Bogotá account fraud?”
The crowd stilled. Julian’s grip turned vise-like.
A reporter held up a photo—Julian at a private airfield, handing a briefcase to a man with a cartel tattoo.
Lena’s breath caught. What have I gotten into?
The Enemy’s Whisper
At the after-party, a champagne flute appeared at Lena’s elbow.
“He’ll destroy you,” murmured a voice.
She turned. The speaker was a silver-haired man with Julian’s sharp cheekbones—Lucian Thorne, his estranged uncle.
“Those scars?” Lucian nodded toward Julian across the room. “I gave them to him when he was sixteen. The boy always did scream prettily.”
Lena’s stomach twisted. Before she could react, Julian was there, his smile icy.
“Uncle. How… predictable of you to show.”
The air crackled with violence.
The First Fight
Back in the penthouse, Lena exploded. “You lied! About my father, about the cartel—”
Julian slammed her against the wall, his breath hot on her lips. “You want the truth? Your father’s alive because I hid him. Those men downstairs? They’ll skin him alive if they find him.”
Her nails dug into his wrists. “Why help him?”
His eyes darkened. “Not him. You.”
Then his mouth crashed onto hers—not for show this time, but raw, angry need.
When he pulled away, his voice was rough. “Don’t trust anyone. Especially not me.”
Cliffhanger
Lena waited until Julian was asleep, then crept to his office. The safe behind the Monet painting opened with the code she’d seen him use.
Inside: a dossier labeled Project Phoenix.
And a photo of her mother.
- Writer
