Chapter 4

The Golden Cage

The car ride to the city center was quiet. I sat in the back seat, staring at the blurred lights of Seattle. Everything felt different now. The air in the car was too clean, and the leather was too smooth. I kept looking at my phone, waiting for another update from the hospital, but there was nothing. No news was good news, I told myself.

The car pulled into an underground garage that looked like a showroom. The driver stopped in front of a private elevator and opened my door.

"Top floor, Mr. Vance," he said. He didn't offer to help with my camera bag. I preferred it that way.

The elevator moved fast. When the doors opened, I stepped directly into the penthouse. It didn't look like a home. It was huge, with white walls and massive windows that showed the entire city glowing below. There was no clutter, no pictures on the walls, and no signs that anyone actually lived here. It was a beautiful, expensive cage.

Klaus was standing by a long kitchen island, pouring water into a glass. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked at me, and for a second, I saw a flash of something in his eyes, but it was gone before I could name it.

"You’re late," he said.

"The traffic was bad," I replied, staying near the elevator. "And I had to wait for the doctor to give me an update."

Klaus set the glass down. "Leo is stable. I already checked."

"Of course you did," I muttered. I walked further into the room, my sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. I felt small here. Everything was too big, too bright.

Klaus walked toward a table near the window. There was a large box sitting on it, along with a thin folder. He tapped the box.

"This is for you," he said.

I walked over and looked inside. My breath caught in my throat. It was a brand-new Hasselblad. It was the kind of camera I had only ever seen in magazines. It cost more than my car—more than three of my cars.

"I have my own gear, Klaus," I said, looking up at him.

"Your gear is old, Liam. It’s not professional enough for the brand we are building. You’re the official team photographer now. You need to look the part."

"I don't need a bribe," I said, my voice rising.

"It’s not a bribe. It’s a tool. Use it." Klaus pushed the folder toward me. "And read this. These are the rules of this house. We need to be clear on how this is going to work."

I opened the folder. The list was short and typed in a plain font.

1. No talking about the past. Ever.

2. No touching in private. We are business partners.

3. When the cameras are on, you are the person I love most in the world.

I read the third rule twice. It felt like a slap in the face. "The person you love most? Isn't that a bit much?"

"People don't want a lukewarm story, Liam," Klaus said, leaning against the table. "They want a bond. They want to believe that I’ve been hiding you away because you’re the only thing that keeps me grounded. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right."

"So, I’m an actor now," I said.

"You’re a partner. I pay the bills, you play the part." Klaus checked his watch. "The PR team wants the first post tonight. They want to break the news before the morning papers. We need a photo."

"Now?" I asked. "I look like I’ve been through a war, Klaus. I haven't slept in two days."

"It makes you look more authentic," Klaus said. "It looks like you’ve been at the hospital. Which you have. It adds to the story."

He walked over to a sofa that faced the city lights. He sat down and patted the spot next to him. I hesitated, then walked over and sat down. I left a good two feet of space between us.

"Closer," Klaus said.

I moved an inch.

"Liam, the world needs to see that we are close. Get over here."

I gritted my teeth and slid over until our shoulders were touching. I could feel the heat coming off him. It felt strange. For two years, I had imagined what it would be like to be near him again. I thought I would feel happy, or maybe even safe. Instead, I just felt a deep, aching sadness.

"Look at the camera," Klaus said. He pulled out his phone and held it up.

He reached out and put his arm around my shoulders. He pulled me in tight, his hand gripping my arm. It was a firm, heavy weight. Suddenly, the two years of silence vanished. I remembered the way we used to sit on the back of his truck. I remembered the way he used to pull me into a headlock after a game.

I looked up at him, and for a split second, I forgot we were acting. I saw the line of his jaw and the small scar near his eyebrow that he got when we were ten.

Then, I felt it.

Klaus’s hand on my shoulder was shaking. It wasn't a big movement, just a tiny, constant tremor. He was nervous. The Ice King, the man who faced thousands of screaming fans every night, was shaking because he was holding me.

He snapped the photo before I could say anything. He immediately pulled his arm back and stood up, walking away as if the sofa were on fire.

"I’ll send that to the PR team," he said, his back to me. "They’ll handle the caption."

"Klaus," I said, standing up. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," he snapped. He didn't turn around. "Your room is the second door on the left. Your things will be delivered in the morning. Don't wander around the house at night. I like my privacy."

"You were shaking," I said, stepping toward him.

He turned around then, his face back to that cold, unreadable mask. "I haven't eaten. My blood sugar is low. That’s all. Go to bed, Liam."

I wanted to push him. I wanted to ask him why he was so scared of me. But I remembered Rule Number One. No talking about the past. I just nodded and picked up my old camera bag. I left the expensive new camera sitting on the table.

My room was large and cold. The bed was huge, with white sheets and too many pillows. I lay down, but I didn't get under the covers. I just stared at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the air conditioning.

I checked my phone one last time. The post was live.

It was the photo he just took. We looked like we were in a different world. The lighting made Klaus look warm, and the way he was holding me looked protective. The caption was simple: Through everything, some things never change. Good to have my best friend back in the city. #Loyalty #Reunion.

I scrolled down to the comments. They were flying in so fast I could barely read them.

Who is the mystery guy? He’s cute!

Look at how Klaus is holding him. I’ve never seen him look like that at anyone.

Is this the friend everyone was talking about? He looks so shy.

Finally! The Ice King has a heart!

I felt a sick feeling in my stomach. Thousands of people were falling for a lie.

Then, I saw a new notification. A "like" from a verified account.

Victoria Fernandes liked this post.

I didn't know much about models, but I knew who she was. She was beautiful, famous, and everyone said she was going to be the next Mrs. Conti. Her "like" didn't feel like a greeting. It felt like she was marking her territory.

I turned off the phone and stared into the dark. I had my money. Leo was safe. But as I lay there in the middle of a billionaire’s penthouse, I realized I had never felt more alone in my life.