Chapter 4 The Cage with Golden Bars

Sofia

The clinking of cutlery against porcelain filled the air.

Sharp. Mechanical.

The only real sound in the massive dining hall besides the faint ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner.

I pushed a piece of roasted carrot around my plate, pretending interest I didn't feel.

My father discussed quarterly projections with my mother, his voice a low, firm current I was expected to listen to, absorb, and someday mirror.

I was a vessel here.

A carefully molded sculpture of manners and ambition.

I wasn't me here.

"You'll also need to schedule another lunch with the Santiagos," my father said, glancing at me over the rim of his wine glass. "We need to finalize a few things before the holidays."

I blinked.

Another lunch.

Another stage performance I hadn't agreed to.

"Yes, Father," I said, my voice betraying none of the storm gathering behind my ribs.

A slight nod.

Approval.

Another invisible box ticked.

My mother offered a brittle smile, the kind that never reached her eyes.

"It's important to show you're willing, darling," she said sweetly, buttering her words like knives.

"Adrian is a fine match."

Match.

Like I was a prize racehorse being bred for pedigree.

I cut into my food, forcing my hand not to shake.

Across the table, a painting of my grandfather loomed - his cold gaze watching everything, even now.

A reminder of where loyalty belonged.

Where duty lived.

In this family, feelings were a weakness.

Desires were an inconvenience.

Dreams were dangerous.

I swallowed my resentment like broken glass, feeling every shard scrape down my throat.

"How was campus today?" my mother asked after a moment, almost as an afterthought.

I paused.

There was no good answer.

Not really.

If I said fine, she would accuse me of wasting opportunities.

If I said stressful, my father would remind me that pressure was the crucible of strength.

So I smiled - polite, practiced - and said, "Productive."

My father nodded again, satisfied.

Not interested in the details.

Not really.

Not interested in the fact that girls at school hated me for reasons they didn't understand.

Not interested in the way loneliness gnawed at the edges of my soul until I barely noticed it anymore.

Not interested in the way I sometimes stood at the edge of the courtyard fountain and imagined throwing everything away -

the future, the duty, the endless, bloodless nothing I was being groomed for.

It didn't matter.

Not here.

I would smile.

I would obey.

I would play my part.

Until the script burned down around me.

Later, after dinner, I climbed the grand staircase alone.

My heels clicked against the marble steps, an empty, echoing sound.

When I reached my room - the one place in the house that felt remotely mine - I didn't turn on the overhead light.

Instead, I crossed to the window and pressed my forehead to the cool glass.

Outside, the garden stretched in perfect symmetry, the hedges casting long, sharp shadows under the silver light of the moon.

Beyond the gates, the city pulsed with life - chaotic, messy, real.

A world where people laughed too loudly, cried openly, fell in love recklessly.

A world I was never meant to touch.

But tonight...

Tonight, something tugged at the edge of my soul.

A whisper of something new stirring in the darkness.

A feeling I couldn't name yet -

only that it felt like the beginning of something dangerous.

And for the first time in a very long time,

I wasn't entirely sure if I would run from it.

Or run toward it.

Sleep didn't come easily.

I laid on top of my covers, staring at the ceiling, watching shadows shift across the white plaster in rhythm with the wind outside.

Somewhere, a clock ticked too loud.

The silence was too heavy.

I turned on my side and reached for my phone. No messages. No missed calls. Just a screen full of curated emptiness.

I opened my gallery.

There was a photo I'd taken weeks ago - the campus courtyard fountain bathed in golden hour light, soft sprays of water caught mid-air. It was peaceful then. Mine.

But now when I looked at it, all I could think of was that strange moment earlier. That inexplicable awareness - like I was a thread pulled taut between two fingers I couldn't see.

I shivered and put the phone down.

I wasn't a superstitious girl. I believed in logic. Plans. Strategy.

My life was structured, scheduled, controlled.

But that feeling?

It hadn't been imagined.

It had felt like... gravity.

Like being chosen by something I didn't understand.

The next morning, I dressed slowly.

My uniform blazer fit too perfectly - stiff shoulders, pressed collar. A look that said privileged more than person. A look my mother had chosen.

I pinned my hair back in a simple twist and added the pearl studs she insisted I wear. "Elegance speaks louder than rebellion," she'd once said.

But rebellion whispered in me anyway. Quiet. Persistent.

Downstairs, breakfast was already laid out. I picked at a croissant and drank half a cup of coffee while Matteo waited silently by the door. The usual routine.

My father wasn't at the table. Neither was my mother.

That was unusual.

But I didn't ask.

I'd learned long ago that questions in this house earned answers I didn't want.

Matteo held the door open as I stepped outside, the autumn chill threading through the hem of my skirt.

"Campus, miss?" he asked.

I nodded, but my eyes drifted toward the tall iron gates as they slid open for us. Beyond them, the city moved - wild, loud, indifferent.

A world full of strangers.

And maybe... someone who wasn't.

At campus, I didn't go straight to class.

Instead, I drifted toward the courtyard.

I wasn't sure why.

Just... drawn.

The fountain still shimmered, sunlight playing across its surface. It looked the same, but I didn't feel the same.

I paused there for a breath. Closed my eyes.

Tried to reclaim that little peace I used to find in this place.

But I didn't feel calm. I felt... watched. Again.

I turned, slowly. Nothing.

Just students walking by, laughing. Loud music from someone's earbuds. A gust of wind kicking up fallen leaves.

Still, my pulse fluttered.

Something was coming for me.

I didn't know what.

But I felt it like a shadow just beyond the light.