Chapter 3 THE CAGE

KIAH

The car that picked Kiah up was not a car.

It was a fortress on wheels.

Black exterior, bulletproof glass, a driver who never made eye contact. The second man in the passenger seat didn't bother hiding the gun under his jacket.

Kiah sat in the back, her hands folded in her lap, the diamond ring catching the light every time she moved.

She wanted to rip it off.

She wanted to throw it out the window and run.

But Arthur's words echoed in her mind.

"I know everything."

He knew about the message. Which meant he was watching her phone. Tracking her. Controlling her before she even stepped foot in his home.

The car pulled up to her apartment building, and both men got out.

"We will accompany you inside," the driver said. His voice was flat. Professional.

"I do not need an escort to pack a bag."

"Mr. Lucas insists."

Of course he did.

Kiah climbed the stairs to her third-floor apartment, the two men flanking her like guards escorting a prisoner.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The apartment looked smaller than it had this morning. Emptier. Like it already knew she was leaving.

"You have two hours," the driver said from the doorway.

Kiah did not respond. She moved to her bedroom and pulled a suitcase from under the bed.

Her hands shook as she folded clothes. She did not know what to bring. Arthur had said everything would be provided, but that felt like another way of saying she would not be allowed to keep anything of her own.

She packed quickly. Clothes. Toiletries. A photo of Ethan from before the trial.

She was reaching for her laptop when she saw it. An envelope on her bed.

She froze.

That had not been there this morning. She was certain.

Kiah glanced toward the door. The two men were standing in the hallway, their backs to her.

She picked up the envelope with trembling fingers and opened it.

Inside was a single piece of paper.

"He is not protecting you. He is using you. Get out while you still can."

Kiah's breath caught.

Someone had been in her apartment.

Someone had left this for her to find.

And they knew she was leaving today.

"Miss Taylor." The driver's voice cut through her panic. "Time is running out."

Kiah shoved the note into her pocket and zipped the suitcase closed.

Her heart was racing, but she forced her face to stay calm.

Whoever had left that message wanted her afraid.

Or they wanted her to trust them.

Either way, she could not show weakness. Not now.

She walked out of the apartment without looking back.

ARTHUR

Arthur stood in the foyer of his penthouse, watching the security feed on his phone.

Kiah was on her way up.

He had spent the last two hours making sure everything was in place. Her room. Her schedule. Her security detail.

And the cameras.

He needed to know where she was at all times. Not because he did not trust her.

Because he did not trust anyone else.

The elevator doors opened, and Kiah stepped out into the vast space.

She looked small against the high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. Fragile, even.

But her eyes were sharp.

Arthur pocketed his phone and gestured toward the hallway. "Your room is this way."

Kiah did not move. "I want to know who sent me that message last night."

"No."

"You said you know everything. So tell me."

Arthur turned to face her fully. She was still clutching her suitcase like it was a lifeline.

"What you want," he said slowly, "is no longer relevant. You signed a contract. That means you do what I tell you. You go where I tell you. And you stop asking questions I am not ready to answer."

Kiah's jaw tightened. "I am not your prisoner."

"You are exactly my prisoner." Arthur closed the distance between them in three strides. "The only difference is that your cage is gilded."

She stared up at him, her breathing uneven. For a moment, Arthur saw something flicker in her eyes.

Fear.

Good.

Fear would keep her alive.

"Follow me," he said, turning away before he did something he would regret.

Like telling her the truth.

KIAH

Kiah followed Arthur through the penthouse, hating every step.

The space was massive. Clean lines. Expensive furniture. Windows that overlooked the entire city.

It was beautiful.

It was suffocating.

Arthur stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

"This is your room."

Kiah stepped inside and froze.

The room was larger than her entire apartment. A king-sized bed. A walk-in closet. A private bathroom with a bathtub that looked like it belonged in a spa.

And bars on the windows.

She turned to Arthur. "You are joking."

"Security measures." His tone did not change. "This building has enemies. The windows are reinforced. The bars are precautionary."

"They are a cage."

"They are protection." Arthur leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "You will learn the difference."

Kiah wanted to scream. To throw something. To make him feel even a fraction of the helplessness she felt.

But she forced herself to breathe.

"Where is your room?" she asked quietly.

Arthur's eyes darkened. "Why?"

"Because I want to know how far I need to run if I decide to leave."

His mouth curved into something cold. "You will not make it to the elevator."

"You cannot keep me here forever."

"Six months." Arthur pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room. "That is all I need. After that, you can run as far as you want." He stopped inches from her, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But until then, Kiah, you are mine."

The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine.

She hated it.

She hated him.

And she hated the part of her that was not entirely sure that was true.

Arthur stepped back. "Dinner is at seven. Do not be late."

He walked out and closed the door behind him.

Kiah stood in the center of the room, her chest heaving.

She pulled the note from her pocket and read it again.

"He is not protecting you. He is using you."

Maybe they were right.

Maybe Arthur was using her for something she did not understand yet.

But she had signed the contract.

And there was no way out.

Kiah spent the next hour unpacking in silence.

She hung her clothes in the massive closet, which already contained an entire wardrobe she had not chosen. Designer dresses. Shoes. Jewelry.

Everything she needed to play the role of Arthur Lucas's wife.

Everything except her freedom.

She was folding the last of her clothes when her phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number.

"Check under your bed."

Kiah's blood turned cold.

She stared at the message, her hands shaking.

Someone was watching her.

Someone knew she was here.

She knelt beside the bed and looked underneath.

There was a small black box tucked against the wall.

Kiah pulled it out and opened it.

Inside was a burner phone and another note.

"Use this if you need help. Do not let him find it. Trust no one."

Her heart pounded so hard she thought she might pass out.

Who was doing this?

And why?

She shoved the phone and note under her mattress and stood, her mind racing.

Arthur had said he knew everything.

But he did not know about this.

Which meant someone was working against him.

Someone who wanted her to have a way out.

Or someone who wanted to pull her deeper into something she did not understand.

Kiah sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling.

She had walked into a war.

And she had no idea which side she was supposed to be on.

ARTHUR

Arthur watched the security footage from his office.

Kiah had found the box.

He had known she would.

Whoever was trying to reach her was smart. They knew his security. They knew his patterns.

And they were moving faster than he had anticipated.

Arthur picked up his phone and dialed.

"She found it," he said when the line connected.

"Good." The voice on the other end was calm. Professional. "Then the trap is set."

"If this goes wrong....."

"It will not." A pause. "You just need to keep her close. Make sure she does not use that phone until we are ready."

Arthur ended the call and leaned back in his chair.

Kiah thought she was a pawn in someone else's game.

She was right.

But she did not know that Arthur was playing both sides.

And by the time she figured it out, it would be too late.

At six fifty-eight, Kiah walked into the dining room.

Arthur was already seated at the head of the table, a glass of wine in his hand.

He looked up when she entered, his gaze sweeping over her.

She had changed into one of the dresses from the closet. Simple. Black. Elegant.

She looked like she belonged in his world.

She looked like his wife.

"Sit," Arthur said.

Kiah sat across from him, her hands folded in her lap.

Silence stretched between them like a blade.

A server appeared and placed food in front of them. Kiah did not touch it.

"You need to eat," Arthur said.

"I am not hungry."

"I am not a suggestion." Arthur's tone left no room for argument.

Kiah's eyes flashed, but she picked up her fork.

Arthur watched her, studying every movement. Every flicker of emotion.

She was afraid. Angry. Desperate.

And she was hiding something.

"Tomorrow," Arthur said, breaking the silence, "we are announcing our engagement to the press."

Kiah's head snapped up. "What?"

"A press conference. Ten AM. You will stand beside me. Smile. Answer questions. Play the role you were hired to play."

"I just signed the contract this morning."

"And the world needs to know you are mine by tomorrow." Arthur set his glass down. "Appearances matter, Kiah. The sooner we look united, the sooner my enemies lose leverage."

"Your enemies." Kiah's voice was tight. "Who are they?"

"That," Arthur said quietly, "is none of your concern."

"It is if they are going to come after me."

Arthur's expression did not change. "They already are."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Kiah went pale. "What?"

Arthur stood and walked around the table. He stopped beside her chair, his hand resting on the back of it.

"Someone wants you dead, Kiah," he said softly. "They have wanted you dead since the moment I chose you." He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. "And the only reason you are still breathing is because I am standing between you and them."

Kiah's breath hitched.

Arthur straightened and walked toward the door.

"Get some sleep," he said without looking back. "Tomorrow, the world finds out you belong to me."

He left her sitting alone in the silence.

And somewhere in the shadows, a phone buzzed with a new message.

"The clock is ticking. She has three days."