"Take her up," Cillian ordered.
Two bodyguards seized Elena Vance and hauled her to the third floor. When the doors to the suite swung open, a thick, nauseating cloud of cigar smoke and expensive liquor hit her. In her early pregnancy, Elena's stomach churned violently. She fought the urge to vomit, only to be shoved forward straight into the arms of a repulsive old man.
"Mr. Griffin, I've brought you a new plaything," Cillian said softly, leaning back in his wheelchair. "Why don't you take her to the back room for some fun?"
Elena froze, staring at Cillian in pure horror. Was he insane? The man holding her, Mr. Griffin, was a balding, pot-bellied predator with yellowed teeth and greasy hands. He had been ready to strike Elena for bumping into him, but seeing her beauty, a lecherous grin spread across his face.
"Mr. Thorne, such generosity?" Griffin chuckled.
"Indeed," Cillian smirked. "I'm sure you haven't played with a woman like this before."
Griffin didn't need to be told twice. He dragged a struggling Elena toward the resting quarters and slammed the door, locking it. Cillian sat in the main room, listening. But as the muffled sounds of a struggle began, he felt a sharp, inexplicable irritation. Was it that familiar sweet scent again? He took a drink, trying to drown out the strange tightening in his chest.
The Great Escape
Bang!
"AAAHHH!"
A piercing scream erupted from the back room. Cillian's eyes snapped toward the door. "Philip, go see what's happening. Don't let them kill her."
The bodyguards kicked the door down and rushed in. Moments later, Philip returned, looking pale. "Mr. Thorne... she's gone. The madam escaped!"
Cillian propelled his wheelchair forward into the room. The window was wide open. They were on the third floor, and she was pregnant yet she had jumped. A flicker of reluctant admiration crossed his cold face.
On the bed, Mr. Griffin was curled in a fetal position, clutching his crotch and howling in agony. "Cillian Thorne! You set me up! You did this on purpose!"
Cillian's expression shifted to one of mock pity. "Mr. Griffin, that woman is my nephew Jackson Reed's lover. She's carrying his child. You dared to touch her? I'm afraid I can't protect you from his wrath."
Griffin's face turned purple. "What?"
"I wanted to mediate our land dispute," Cillian shrugged, "but you couldn't restrain yourself. Philip, did we record the 'assault'?"
"Every second of it, sir."
"Good. See you in court tomorrow, Mr. Griffin."
The Trap is Set
As they left the club, Philip whispered, "Sir, should I send the men to find her? In her condition, she won't get far."
"No need," Cillian said, his voice like dry ice. "She helped me secure that land in Hexi. Consider this her night of freedom. However... I expect her to crawl back to me and beg for forgiveness by dawn."
Meanwhile, Elena was hiding behind a dumpster, trembling. Once Cillian's car disappeared, she hailed a taxi with the last of her pocket change, eventually switching to the subway to save money. She spent the night huddled under a bridge. a survival skill she had perfected over the last month.
At dawn, she sold some scrap cardboard for a few coins and headed to a phone booth near the train station. She needed to reach her uncle and flee to the countryside to find her grandmother.
When her uncle answered, his voice was uncharacteristically joyful. "Elena! Where are you? Why haven't you come to see us at the hospital?"
Elena's heart skipped a beat. "Uncle... what are you talking about?"
"Don't be modest! We know you're married to that powerful Mr. Thorne. If he hadn't brought the whole family including your grandmother to the capital for medical treatment, we would have missed the news! He's been so generous to us!"
Elena's pupils constricted. A violent shiver ran through her soul. Cillian hadn't just captured her; he had taken her entire family hostage.