Chapter 3 BEAUTIFUL CAGE

BRENDA

I spent the afternoon at the hospital, arranging for Sarah's surgery with shaking and unsteady hands. The doctors' attitudes changed instantly when I mentioned Ethan Blackwood's name and showed them the cash deposit. Suddenly, there were smiles, reassurances, handshakes. Amazing what money could do for real.

"You'll be okay," I whispered to Sarah as they prepped her for the preliminary procedures. "The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. I've taken care of everything."

"How?" she asked, her voice weak but her eyes sharp with suspicion. "Brenda, what did you do?"

I forced a smile. "I got lucky. Found someone who's helping us."

"Who?"

"Just rest. I'll explain everything later."

By seven-thirty, I stood outside the hospital with a single bag containing all my worldly possessions. A sleek black car pulled up precisely at seven forty-five. The driver didn't speak as he loaded my pathetic dirty bag into the trunk.

The ride to Ethan's "address" took nearly an hour, leaving the city behind and climbing into the exclusive hills where even the streetlights looked expensive. We passed through massive iron gates bearing an ornate "B" and continued up a winding driveway lined with perfectly manicured trees, everything here was just too perfect.

Then the mansion came into view. Mansion was an understatement. It was a modern castle of glass, stone, and steel, perched on the hillside like a predator surveying its territory. Lights blazed from countless windows, making it glow against the darkening sky.

My stomach churned with anxiety. What had I gotten myself into?

The car stopped at the entrance. Before the driver could open my door, it swung open from the outside. Ethan stood there, still in his business suit, face unreadable and cold.

"You're punctual. Good." His eyes swept over my worn jeans and faded sweater with barely concealed distaste. "Come inside."

"Your sister's surgery is tomorrow?" Ethan asked, not looking back as he led me deeper into the house.

"Yes. Nine AM."

"I've arranged for my personal physician to oversee it. Dr. Winters is the best nephrologist in the country." He spoke matter-of-factly, as though arranging world-class medical care was as routine as ordering coffee.

"Thank you," I said, the words feeling inadequate.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face me. "This isn't charity, Brenda. Don't thank me. This is a business arrangement."

Something in his tone made me shiver, but I lifted my chin. "I understand."

His eyes held mine a beat too long, dropping briefly to my lips before he turned away. "Follow me. There's someone you need to meet."

We entered a vast living room where a fire roared in a stone fireplace big enough to park a car. A woman stood with her back to us, gazing out floor-to-ceiling windows at the twinkling city lights below.

"Mother," Ethan said. "This is Brenda Mitchell."

She turned slowly. Even from across the room, I felt the force of her displeasure. Clarissa Blackwood was a striking woman in her sixties, all sharp angles and perfect posture. Her silver hair was styled in an elegant bob, and diamonds glittered at her throat and ears.

Her eyes, the same dark shade as Ethan's, assessed me like I was something unpleasant stuck to her shoe, like I was some kind of pig who just missed the way.

"This?" she said, the single word dripping with disdain. "This is your solution?"

I fought the urge to check if I had dirt on my face.

"Brenda, my mother, Clarissa Blackwood," Ethan said, ignoring her comment. "Mother, my fiancée."

The word 'fiancée' hung in the air like smoke. Clarissa approached slowly, circling me like a shark. "Where did you find her? Some shelter?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. "I'm standing right here," I said. "You could ask me directly."

Her eyebrows shot up. Before I could react, her hand flashed out, striking my cheek with surprising force. The slap echoed through the cavernous room.

"Mother!" Ethan's voice cracked like a whip.

"You will not speak to me that way in my son's house," Clarissa hissed, her face inches from mine. "Know your place. Whatever he's paying you, it's not enough to buy respect in this family."

My cheek stung, but I refused to touch it or show pain. "I apologize," I said stiffly. "That was rude of me."

"Ethan, this is absurd," Clarissa continued, turning to her son. "The board will never accept this... this nobody. Victoria's family has connections we need for the Shanghai project."

"Victoria isn't an option," Ethan replied coolly. "The decision is made."

"At least Victoria knows which fork to use at dinner," Clarissa sneered. "This one probably eats with her hands."

I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. Sarah. Think of Sarah.

"That's enough," Ethan said, though whether he was defending me or just tired of the conversation, I couldn't tell. "Brenda and I are getting married next week. The arrangements are being made. The board will accept it because they have no choice than to."

Clarissa's face hardened. "This trash will never be a Blackwood."

"Nevertheless, she will bear the name." Ethan's voice was final. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have matters to discuss."

He took my elbow, steering me from the room. I could feel Clarissa's glare burning into my back like a predator about to strike.

"I apologize for my mother," he said once we were in the hallway. "She's protective of the family name."

"Is that what you call it?" My cheek throbbed. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "This way. I'll show you to your room."

We ascended a sweeping staircase to the second floor. The hallway seemed endless, lined with artwork that belonged in museums. He stopped at a door near the end, opening it with a flourish.

"Your quarters," he said.

The bedroom was larger than my entire previous apartment, with a king-sized bed, sitting area, and views of the gardens below. An adjoining bathroom gleamed with marble and gold fixtures.

"My room is through there," Ethan said, nodding to a door on the far wall. "We'll maintain separate bedrooms, but there's a connecting door for appearance's sake."

The implications sank in slowly. "I'm sleeping here? Next to you?"

"You're to be my wife," he said, watching me with unnerving intensity. "Certain appearances must be maintained."

I swallowed hard. "Right."

He moved closer, and suddenly the massive room felt tiny. "You should know, my mother is not your only obstacle here. Our engagement will make waves. People will investigate you, try to find weaknesses, scandals."

"I don't have any scandals," I said. "I'm nobody, remember?"

"Everyone has secrets." His eyes drifted over my face, lingering on my lips. "Even nobodies."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Despite everything, his arrogance, this impossible situation, there was something magnetic about him. A pull I couldn't explain and didn't want to acknowledge.

"Your things will be here shortly," he continued, stepping back. "Tomorrow, we shop for appropriate clothing. You can't be seen in public with me dressed like that."

I glanced down at my worn clothes. "What's wrong with how I dress?"

"Everything." His bluntness was breathtaking. "Dinner is at eight. Don't be late. And Brenda?" His eyes hardened. "Try not to antagonize my mother further. She can make this arrangement very difficult for both of us."

With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

I sank onto the bed, reality crashing down. I had just been slapped, insulted, and treated like property, all in the span of ten minutes. And I had to endure a year of this.

For Sarah, I reminded myself. All for Sarah. A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. A uniformed maid entered with my bag.

"Miss Mitchell? I'm Clara. I've been assigned as your personal maid."

"Personal maid?" I repeated numbly.

She nodded. "Would you like me to unpack for you?"

"No, thank you. I can manage." The thought of her seeing my threadbare clothes was too humiliating and gosh...

"Very well. Dinner is formal. I've laid out a dress for you in the closet. Mr. Blackwood selected it himself."

After she left, I investigated the walk-in closet, bigger than my old bedroom and found a black dress hanging softly splendor. Simple, elegant, and undoubtedly expensive. A note pinned to it read simply: "Wear this."

I showered in the luxurious bathroom, trying not to gawk at the multiple shower heads and heated floors. The hot water, as much as I wanted, without worrying about bills felt like the first real luxury I'd had in months.

The dress fit perfectly, which was unsettling. How did he know my size? Gold heels sat beneath it, along with a velvet box containing a simple gold necklace. Dressing for dinner like some character in a period drama felt surreal and really awkward to me.

At precisely eight o'clock, I made my way downstairs, following the sound of voices. I paused outside the dining room, gathering courage.

"completely inappropriate!" A woman's voice, not Clarissa's. "You can't be serious about marrying her, Ethan."

"Victoria, we've discussed this," Ethan replied, his tone bored. "Our arrangement ended months ago."

"An arrangement that our families spent years cultivating! The merger depends on it."

"The merger depends on my controlling interest in Blackwood Enterprises, which is not contingent on who I marry."

I stepped into the doorway, freezing at the tableau before me. Ethan stood by the fireplace, drink in hand. Beside him was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in real life, tall, blonde, runway-model thin, dressed in a red gown that probably cost more than a car.

Clarissa sat at the table, watching with satisfaction as the woman Victoria confronted her son.

"Is that her?" Victoria asked, noticing me first. Her perfect features filled with disbelief. "This is what you're throwing away our future for?"

All eyes turned to me. I fought the urge to flee.

"Ah, Brenda," Ethan said, as though we were at a casual garden party. "Perfect timing. Come meet Victoria Chen. Her father runs Chen Global Industries. Victoria, my fiancée, Brenda Mitchell."

Victoria looked me up and down with naked contempt. "What did he promise you? Money? Status? Whatever it is, it won't be worth it when he discards you."

"Victoria," Ethan warned.

"No, let her speak," Clarissa interjected. "The girl should know what she's walking into."

Victoria stepped closer, her expensive perfume covering me. "Ethan doesn't marry for love, honey. He marries for advantage. And you," she laughed softly, "are no advantage."

"Then why are you so threatened?" The words escaped before I could stop them.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. I will destroy you."

"That's enough," Ethan said, suddenly beside me. His hand settled possessively on the small of my back, warm through the thin fabric of the dress. "Victoria was just leaving."

"This isn't over," she hissed, grabbing her clutch from the table. "When he ruins you and he will, don't say I didn't warn you."

She stormed out, heels clicking angrily on the marble floor.

"Well," Clarissa said, sipping her wine. "That went about as expected."

Dinner was really awkward. Clarissa ignored me completely, speaking only to Ethan about people and places I'd never heard of. I struggled with the multiple forks, acutely aware of her noting each mistake. Ethan, meanwhile, watched me with dark, unreadable eyes that made my skin heat whenever our eyes met.

After dessert, Clarissa excused herself with a cold nod in my direction.

"You survived," Ethan commented once we were alone. "Barely."

"Is it always going to be like this?" I asked.

"Yes." His honesty was almost refreshing. "Get used to it."

"Your ex-girlfriend seems lovely."

A hint of amusement touched his lips. "Victoria is... complicated. Our families have been pushing us together since childhood. She's not used to not getting what she wants."

"And what do you want?" I asked suddenly.

His eyes darkened, gaze dropping to my mouth. "Many things."

The air between us changed, charged with something dangerous. He stood, moving around the table toward me with a predatory look. I rose instinctively, backing away until I hit the wall.

He didn't stop until he was inches away, one hand coming to rest beside my head. "You should know, Brenda," he said, voice low, "that while our marriage may be a business arrangement, I expect full commitment to the role."

"Meaning?" My voice sounded breathless even to my own ears.

"Meaning," he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear, "that in public, you are mine. My wife. My partner. My lover."

My heart hammered so hard I was sure he could hear it. "And in private?"

His other hand came up to trace the outline of my jaw, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "That depends entirely on you."

Before I could process his words, a sharp ring cut through the tension. Ethan stepped back, pulling a phone from his pocket. His expression changed instantly as he answered.

"Blackwood." He listened for a moment, face hardening. "When? I'll be right there."

He hung up, eyes finding mine with new urgency.

"Get your coat," he ordered. "It's your sister."

My blood turned to ice. "What about Sarah? Is she okay?"

"There's been a complication. We need to go now."

I was already running for the door, panic clawing at my throat. After everything, the deal, the humiliation, this bizarre new life, if Sarah didn't make it...

Ethan caught my arm in the hallway, spinning me to face him. His expression was cold but determined.

"Listen to me carefully," he said, voice low and intense. "No matter what happens at the hospital, remember our arrangement. If you walk away now, you lose everything. Including any chance of helping your sister."

The threat was clear. Even in crisis, he was calculating.

"You're a monster," I whispered.

"No," he replied, eyes looking into mine. "I'm insured. Against whatever we're about to face."

As we raced toward the car, three things became terrifyingly clear: Sarah's life hung in the balance, I was trapped in a bargain with a ruthless man who saw me as property, and somehow, despite it all, I couldn't ignore the electric current that shot through me whenever he was near.

I had sold my soul to the devil. And the devil was starting to look disturbingly attractive....