Chapter 2. The Cage She Walked Into

Ariella's POV.

I woke to silk sheets, and there was no sound of anything. Not peace and not calm, but nothing. The kind that makes you question whether you’re still breathing.

Damon was already dressed. Espresso in hand. Gray suit. Crisp, expensive, perfect. He didn’t acknowledge me. Just sipped and scrolled his phone like the bed wasn’t still warm from where I’d slept alone.

“Did we...?” My voice cracked on the question.

He didn’t bother to turn. “No. What would be the point?”

Humiliation wrapped around me like a second skin.

“You weren’t bought for that,” he said. “You were bought for your name. Your face. Your availability when the cameras flash.”

He dropped a folder on the bed beside me.

“Today’s itinerary. The brunch starts in two hours. We’ll make a quick stop for press. You’ll wear white again. Don’t frown, it photographs badly.”

I didn’t touch the folder. Just stared at the man who now dictated my schedule.

“Get up,” he added calmly. “We have an image to protect.”

Makeup. Hair. Nails. Three women hovered around me like engineers fine-tuning a machine. No one spoke beyond lipstick tones and heel height. My reflection didn’t look like me. It looked like a press release.

My phone buzzed. Damon’s mother.

“Your part of this family now,” she said. “Time to stop acting like the wounded and start acting like the wife.”

She didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up.

The brunch was hosted at Damon’s family estate, with terraces, fountains, and security everywhere. Guests in designer suits and cutthroat smiles. Champagne towers. Money in every glance.

Damon played the groom role flawlessly. His hand was placed at my back, just tight enough to remind me who held the leash.

“You’re glowing,” he told the press. Then leaned closer to me, lowering his voice. “Too much blinking makes you look anxious. Control it.”

I smiled on cue. I had to.

Until I saw him.

Standing near the fountain. Black suit, no tie. Glass in hand. Watching me like I was, the only thing in the world worth watching, and he hated himself for it.

My pulse spiked. Damon’s grip on my back tightened.

“Focus, Ariella,” he murmured. “He wants to rattle you. Don’t let him.”

“You invited him?”

“No,” Damon said coolly. “He just crawls out when he smells smoke.”

I slipped away after the fifth glass of champagne. Told the press I needed air. Told Damon’s handler I needed a moment. No one dared stop me.

But I wasn’t alone.

Jace leaned against the balustrade of the east terrace, already waiting.

“You ran away,” he said.

“I walked.”

“You always walk away when it matters.”

I turned my back on the view. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He moved closer. “I was here yesterday. You looked through me like I was nothing.”

“You disappeared for three years.”

“And you married a tyrant.”

I snapped, “I married to survive.”

“Did it work?” His voice was quiet, dangerous. “Are you surviving, Ariella? Or just existing in his cage?”

“Don’t act like you care now.” I swallowed and snorted.

He lifted his gaze to mine and retorted. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I ever stopped.”

I hated that he was still handsome. Still broken in the same places I remembered. Still dangerous in all the ways that tempted the worst in me.

“You left me,” I said.

“You stopped waiting.”

Silence wedged between us.

He stepped closer. His voice was lower now. “Tell me you don’t feel anything. Say it, and I’ll Walk away.”

I couldn’t. I didn’t.

But I didn’t answer.

A sound behind us. Slow footsteps. Leather shoes on marble.

Damon.

He appeared calm. Controlled. Which was always worse than when he lost it.

“Such a lovely reunion,” he said, stepping between us. “Shame it has to end.”

Jace didn’t flinch. “You still act like you own the world.”

“I own what matters,” Damon said, glancing back at me. “Let’s go, sweetheart. The cameras miss your smile.”

Jace’s eyes locked on mine. “Is that what you are now? His smile?”

Damon’s tone turned lethal. “Be careful, brother.”

He turned back to me. “Ariella.”

I followed, not because I wanted to but because Jace was fire, and Damon was ice. And I was the idiot that stuck in between them.

The rest of the event passed in a blur of polite lies. I posed. I waved. I laughed on cue. Every time Damon touched me, I felt Jace’s eyes from across the room.

That night, the master bedroom felt like a stranger’s museum. Polished. Cold.

A black box waited on my pillow.

Inside: a burner phone. One number saved.

And one message flashed on my phone. ''If you want, our escape can help. But also note there will be no going if I help you out.''

I shook my head and stared at the message for a long time. I thought of my best line of action. But it is like I'm between the river and the deep blue sea.