Chapter 3: A Prison Wrapped in Luxury
1028 Words
I woke up in a room that was probably worth more than my student loans.
For a few seconds, I thought I was dreaming.
The bed was softer than anything I'd ever slept on. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Manhattan skyline, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the soft crackling of a fireplace.
Then I remembered the three motorcycles speeding toward Julian's SUV.
I sat upright immediately.
My heart pounded as I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom.
Right. I had accepted a ride from a billionaire's lawyer because three strangers on motorcycles had apparently decided I was more interesting than the entire population of New York.
Normal Tuesday.
I reached for my phone on the bedside table and sighed in relief when I saw it was still there. The first thing I did was call Grace.
She answered before the second ring.
"Aubrey!" she exclaimed. "Where are you? I've been calling you for hours!"
"I'm fine," I replied quickly. "Please don't panic."
"Too late," she said. "I've already panicked, cried a little, and considered filing a missing person's report."
Despite everything, I laughed softly.
"I'm sorry," I said. "It's been a strange night."
"That's the understatement of the century," Grace said. "You saved the life of Adrian Ashford and disappeared with men in black suits."
"You know about that?" I asked.
"The internet exists," she replied. "It's literally trending everywhere."
Of course it was.
Apparently, saving billionaires wasn't something people did quietly.
"Are you safe?" Grace asked more gently.
I glanced around the luxurious room again.
"I honestly don't know," I admitted.
There was a brief silence before she spoke again.
"That doesn't sound reassuring."
"It isn't."
Before I could explain further, someone knocked on the bedroom door.
"Grace, I'll call you later," I said.
"If a billionaire proposes marriage before breakfast, say no," she said.
"I hate that this is something you felt the need to say," I replied.
"I've watched enough dramas to know where this is going," She said.
I laughed to myself and ended the call.
"Come in," I called.
The door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman dressed impeccably in black.
"Good morning, Dr. Bennett," she said politely. "My name is Margaret. Mr. Cross asked me to inform you that breakfast is ready whenever you're comfortable."
"Mr. Cross?" I asked.
"Julian Cross," she replied.
Of course.
"Can someone tell me where I am?" I asked.
"One of Mr. Ashford's secure residences," she replied.
"Secure from what?"
Her expression remained perfectly neutral.
"That is a conversation Mr. Cross wishes to have with you himself."
That was becoming everyone's favorite answer.
I followed Margaret downstairs a few minutes later and nearly stopped walking when I saw the dining room.
This wasn't a residence. It was practically a private hotel.
Julian stood beside the large dining table, reading something on his tablet while sipping coffee.
"Good morning, Doctor," he said.
"I've had better mornings," I replied as I sat down.
"That's understandable."
"No, what's understandable is being tired after a long shift," I said. "Waking up in a billionaire's mansion because someone might want me dead is considerably more unusual."
That earned the slightest smile from him.
"Fair point," he said.
I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm not eating anything until someone explains what's happening."
"Reasonable," Julian replied.
"Good. We're making progress."
He placed his tablet on the table and looked at me seriously.
"The patient you treated last night was poisoned," he said.
"I suspected as much," I replied.
"It was an assassination attempt."
I blinked.
"I wish I could say that surprises me, but apparently billionaires attract dramatic problems," I said.
"The problem is that you correctly identified the poisoning," he continued.
"And?"
"And whoever attempted to kill Adrian Ashford now knows you saved his life."
The room suddenly felt colder.
"That's ridiculous," I said.
"Unfortunately, it's also true."
I stared at him for several seconds before speaking again.
"So you're telling me that because I did my job as a doctor, someone wants me dead?"
"That is our current assessment," Julian replied.
I leaned back in my chair and laughed quietly.
"You know, medical school never prepared me for this part."
"I suspected it wouldn't," Julian said.
I took a deep breath.
"Who exactly is trying to kill him?" I asked.
"If we knew that, this conversation would be significantly shorter," Julian replied.
At least he had a sense of humor.
"How long am I supposed to stay here?" I asked.
"Until we determine it's safe for you to leave."
"No," I argued.
He raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"I have a job," I said. "Student loans. A younger sister. Patients waiting for me at the hospital. I can't simply disappear because rich people are fighting over their money."
"This has very little to do with money," Julian said quietly.
"That's somehow more concerning."
Before he could respond, one of the security guards entered the dining room.
"Mr. Cross," he said. "There's a package at the front gate addressed to Dr. Bennett."
My stomach dropped.
"A package?" I asked.
The guard nodded. "It arrived twenty minutes ago."
Julian's expression hardened immediately.
"Was it scanned?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"And?"
"No explosives."
"That's comforting," I muttered.
The guard placed the small black box on the table.
There was no return address.
No delivery company logo.
Nothing.
"Should I be worried?" I asked.
"Probably," Julian replied honestly.
Well, points for honesty.
He carefully opened the box while two security officers stood nearby.
Inside was a single white envelope.
Julian removed the folded paper inside before his expression darkened.
"What is it?" I asked.
Instead of answering, he handed it to me.
My fingers tightened around the paper as I read the message.
You should have let him die.
Below the words was a photograph.
It was me.
Standing beside Adrian Ashford's hospital bed while trying to save his life.
Someone had been watching us long before I ever left the hospital.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I realized something terrifying.
Saving Adrian Ashford wasn't the dangerous part.
Surviving after saving him would be.
- Writer
