CHAPTER 2 - THE GOLDEN CAGE
773 Words
Three Years Later
The mansion overlooked the Atlantic like a king surveying his kingdom.
From the outside, it was flawless.
White stone walls.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
Perfectly trimmed gardens.
Luxury cars rested beneath a glass garage, while uniformed guards patrolled the iron gates.
To the world, it was the home of America's youngest billionaire.
To Dilva...
It was a prison built with marble instead of iron.
She stood barefoot before the bedroom window, watching the morning waves crash against the rocks below.
Beautiful.
Free.
She wondered what freedom felt like.
"Good morning, ma'am."
The soft voice behind her belonged to Maria, the housekeeper.
"I've laid out your breakfast."
Dilva forced a smile.
"Thank you, Maria."
Maria hesitated.
"You barely ate dinner."
"I'm not very hungry."
It was the same answer she had given for weeks.
Perhaps months.
Maria wanted to say more, but experience had taught her that questions were dangerous inside the Montiel estate.
She quietly left the room.
Silence returned.
Dilva glanced at the enormous bed behind her.
Only one side had been slept in.
Jacob hadn't come home.
Again.
She wasn't surprised anymore.
There had been a time when she waited by the door, hoping to hear his key in the lock.
Now she simply checked whether his side of the bed was untouched.
That told her everything she needed to know.
She picked up a framed wedding photograph from the bedside table.
The woman in the picture looked radiant.
Hopeful.
Madly in love.
She barely recognized her.
Jacob was smiling in the photograph too.
Not the polite smile he wore at business events.
A real one.
It made her wonder if that version of him had ever truly existed...
or if she had only seen what she wanted to see.
A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Ma'am," a security guard called through the door.
"Mr. Montiel asked to see you downstairs."
Dilva's heart sank.
Jacob was home.
He stood in the dining room, dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, reading financial reports while sipping black coffee.
Even in silence, he commanded the room.
He didn't look up when she entered.
"Sit."
She obeyed.
A maid placed breakfast before her.
Fresh fruit.
Croissants.
Coffee.
She reached for the cup.
Jacob spoke without lifting his eyes from the report.
"I said sit."
Her hand froze.
She slowly withdrew it.
Only after nearly a minute did he place the report on the table.
"You may eat."
She wasn't hungry anymore.
Jacob noticed.
"You've lost weight."
She remained quiet.
"I asked you a question."
"I haven't been very hungry."
His gaze settled on her.
Cold.
Calculating.
"Is someone making you unhappy?"
The irony almost made her laugh.
Almost.
"No."
"Good."
He folded the newspaper neatly.
"I dislike unnecessary problems."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The ticking of the antique grandfather clock filled the room.
Finally, Dilva gathered enough courage.
"Will you be home tonight?"
Jacob buttoned his suit jacket.
"I don't know."
"You said that yesterday."
"And?"
"I just..."
She swallowed.
"I miss having dinner together."
Jacob looked at her as though she had spoken another language.
"Dinner doesn't increase shareholder value."
"No..."
"It doesn't."
"But it matters to me."
His expression never changed.
"You have everything most people dream of."
He gestured toward the mansion.
"The cars."
"The staff."
"The vacations."
"The jewelry."
"What exactly are you missing?"
Dilva looked down at her untouched breakfast.
"My husband."
For the first time that morning...
Jacob said nothing.
He simply stared at her.
Then his phone vibrated.
He answered immediately.
"Montiel."
His voice became all business.
"I'm on my way."
He ended the call.
"Cancel tomorrow's charity gala," he told his assistant, who had just entered. "Reschedule it."
"Yes, sir."
Jacob turned to leave.
"Jacob..."
He stopped but didn't look back.
"When was the last time we were happy?"
A long silence followed.
Finally, he answered.
"I don't measure happiness."
"I measure results."
Then he walked away.
The front doors closed behind him with a heavy thud.
Dilva remained seated.
The breakfast had gone cold.
So had her marriage.
Outside, the black limousine disappeared through the gates.
Maria quietly entered the dining room.
She looked at the untouched food.
Then at Dilva.
"You should eat something, dear."
Dilva smiled weakly.
"I'm not hungry."
Maria reached across the table and gently squeezed her hand.
It was the smallest act of kindness.
Yet somehow...
It almost made Dilva cry.
She turned her face toward the sea beyond the windows.
The waves were still crashing against the rocks.
Still free.
She whispered so softly that only she could hear it.
"I can't live like this anymore.”
- Writer
