Chapter 3

A few days later, the door to my room opened again. It was Chloe.

She was wearing a different smart-fabric outfit, a sleek pantsuit that glowed with a soft, inner light.

"I was just thinking," she said, examining her nails. "That lab-grown steak at the gala... it was exquisite. So tender. You must be so proud to know your family contributed to something so innovative."

Her words were deliberate, each one a carefully aimed barb.

I remained silent, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"What' s wrong?" she purred. "Cat got your tongue? Or are you just overwhelmed by our success?"

That was it. The control I had been holding onto snapped.

"Where are they?" I demanded, my voice raw. "The original design files. The physical fabric samples. My grandfather' s notebooks. Where are they?"

I surged forward, intending to grab her, to shake the truth out of her.

Two guards materialized instantly, blocking my path and shoving me back against the wall.

Chloe didn' t even flinch. She just smiled.

"Careful, Sarah," she warned, her voice turning cold. "David is a very busy man. He doesn' t have time for your hysterics. If you want to continue enjoying this... comfortable arrangement, I suggest you learn to behave. He' s coming to see you soon. Don' t disappoint him."

She turned and walked out, leaving her threat hanging in the air.

An hour later, they moved me. Not back to my room, but down to a lower level of the facility. The air grew damp and cold. They pushed me into a small, concrete cell with a single drain in the floor. A thin trickle of water ran constantly down one wall. This was the "water prison" she' d alluded to.

And then David arrived.

He stood in the doorway, looking down at me in the bleak cell. He had changed out of his expensive suit into something more casual, but he still radiated power and control.

"Do you hate me, Sarah?" he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the small space.

I finally looked at him, the man I once loved, now my tormentor.

"Hate is too small a word for what I feel," I whispered.

"You brought this on yourself," he said, his tone one of weary justification. "You discovered the data acquisition. You were going to expose me, to ruin everything I' ve built. I had no choice."

"A choice?" I laughed, a broken, bitter sound. "You had a thousand choices. You chose to lie. You chose to steal. You chose to destroy my family and lock me in a cage."

My voice rose with every word, fueled by years of suppressed pain.

"You promised me a future! You promised my family a partnership! You stood in my grandfather' s workshop and told him his legacy was safe with you! You lied to all of us!"

"It was more complicated than that!" he shot back, a flash of anger in his eyes. "There were market forces, investors... I had difficulties you couldn' t possibly understand. I did what I had to do to survive! And I protected you! You could be in a federal prison right now, but I put you here, where you' re safe."

"Safe?" I stared at him in disbelief. "You call this safe? You call this protection?"

"I' m the most powerful man in this industry," I said, my voice dropping to a low, venomous sneer. "Power is all you care about. It' s worth more than love, more than trust, more than human lives."

He flinched, a nerve struck. For a moment, he looked almost ashamed. But it passed as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar mask of arrogance.

He stepped into the cell, his expensive shoes touching the damp concrete.

"You' re right," he said coolly. "I am powerful. And I' m a generous man."

He looked down at me, a calculating glint in his eyes.

"I' ll make you an offer. I' ll move you out of here. I' ll give you a penthouse suite, a stipend, anything you want. You can be my mistress, my secret. A beautiful, tragic genius I keep hidden away. I' ll even create a new executive position for you, a 'consultant' role. You' ll have a title, a place in my world."

He was offering to make me his prize, his possession. A gilded cage to replace this concrete one. The insult was so profound it left me speechless.

I looked around the miserable, wet cell. I looked at his handsome, deceitful face.

"I would rather rot in this hole," I said, my voice filled with a final, unbreakable resolve, "than spend one more second in a world you built."

His face hardened into a mask of cold fury. The offer was rescinded. The mask of civility was gone.