Chapter 3 Welcome to the Cage

The car ride to Eryx Kane's penthouse felt less like a limo ride and more like being chauffeured to her own execution.

Sera sat ramrod straight in the back seat, hands clenched in her lap, her pulse ticking like a bomb in her ears. The diamond ring on her finger - his ring - felt heavier than steel. Every time she glanced down, it glinted mockingly in the faint city lights streaming through the tinted windows.

Across from her, Eryx sat with his phone in one hand, thumb scrolling. Not a word, not a glance, not a single sign he cared she was there at all. If he'd been any more relaxed, she might have believed this was just a routine pickup.

It was insulting, really - that he could ruin her life and still look so calm about it. His custom black suit was immaculate. Not a wrinkle. Not a hair out of place. The only thing imperfect about him was the scar near his left temple - a faint, almost invisible line she hadn't noticed before, like an old wound he never bothered to hide.

She wondered who - or what - had given it to him.

---

When the limo finally slid to a halt in front of the towering glass monolith that was the Kane Residences, Sera exhaled a breath she didn't remember holding.

The doorman opened her door before she could reach for the handle. "Miss Vale," he greeted, bowing slightly, eyes flicking to the diamond on her hand.

She fought the urge to flip him off. She settled for an icy nod instead.

Eryx stepped out behind her, ignoring the doorman completely. He didn't offer her his arm - good. She would have refused to take it anyway.

---

The elevator ride up was worse.

They stood side by side in the gleaming metal box, the city falling away beneath their feet as the numbers ticked higher and higher. Sera could see their reflections in the mirrored doors: her stormy eyes, the stubborn line of her jaw; his cold profile, unreadable as stone.

"You really think this is going to work?" she asked, just to break the silence that felt like it might crush her lungs.

Eryx didn't look at her. "It doesn't matter what I think. It matters what they think."

"They?"

He finally glanced at her, one eyebrow arched in faint amusement. "The board. The press. The world. Everyone loves a redemption arc. And what's better than the scorned billionaire who finds true love after betrayal?"

"'True love,'" she echoed, her laugh sharp and humorless. "You really think you can sell that with this face?"

His lips twitched, but he said nothing. Which annoyed her more than an actual insult would have.

---

The elevator dinged softly at the top floor. The doors slid open onto a space so massive it made her blink.

The Kane penthouse was... ridiculous. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the entire city. Glass, marble, steel - everything gleamed in shades of white, grey, and black, so clean and cold it felt like a museum. If a museum had an entire wing dedicated to making poor girls feel utterly out of place.

She stepped out, heels clicking on polished marble.

A sleek, modern kitchen with black granite counters and chrome fixtures stretched out to her right. To the left, a massive living area with two leather sectionals, a grand piano she doubted he ever touched, and an abstract painting she'd bet cost more than her mother's house.

"Welcome home, Miss Vale," Eryx drawled, moving past her without looking back. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, draping it over one of the bar stools with casual elegance.

She forced her feet to move, stepping farther inside. "Home," she muttered. "Sure. Right."

---

He flicked on a few lights, the warm glow only making the place feel colder somehow. He poured himself a glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter, took a slow sip, then turned to face her.

"Your room is at the end of the hall. You'll find it adequately stocked. You'll move your things in tomorrow. Until then, you're free to-"

"Actually," she cut in, crossing her arms, "I'm not free to do anything. Let's get that straight. This is your cage, not my home."

He tilted his head, studying her like she was an interesting bug on a pin. "I'd think you'd be more grateful. That ring on your finger buys your mother's treatment. Your sister's future."

Her stomach twisted. He knew exactly where to stab her.

She stepped closer, eyes locked with his. "Don't you dare use my family as leverage. You want your pet fiancée? Fine. But I'm not going to grovel at your feet like Clarissa."

He smirked. "Good. I prefer my fiancée with teeth."

The tension between them snapped like an electric wire. She could see it now, clear as the glass walls around them - this was his game, and he expected her to play her part. But he'd made one mistake: Seraphina Vale had never played by anyone's rules but her own.

---

She turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway, her heels digging into the plush carpet just to spite him. She found the bedroom he'd mentioned - of course, it was enormous. A king-size bed with crisp white sheets, a massive walk-in closet, and a window so large it felt like the city could swallow her whole.

She locked the door behind her - a pointless gesture, she knew - and leaned back against it, heart hammering.

This was it. The beginning of the deal. The beginning of the mask.

She crossed the room, pulled the heavy drapes shut, and stood in the dark, staring at her reflection in the glass.

The ring sparkled on her finger - a diamond promise that didn't mean love, but a transaction. Her reflection looked back at her: deep brown skin, wild hair pinned up too tightly, stormy eyes that refused to break.

Seraphina Vale, fiancée to a man who didn't believe in love - and who would ruin her if she gave him a single chance.

---

From the other side of the penthouse, she could hear him moving. Pouring another drink. Making a call, his voice low and sharp, words she couldn't make out.

The king in his glass tower.

Well, he might have caged her - but she'd be damned if she let him keep the key.