Chapter 5: The Forbidden Move

"You think my father will save you?"

Ignatius slammed the door to the guest house so hard the glass panes rattled in their frames. He ripped his tie loose, his face flushed a dangerous, mottled red. He looked unhinged. The "Saint" had been stripped bare at the gala, and the animal underneath was foaming at the mouth.

"He doesn't want you, Raffy. He just wants to take what’s mine." Ignatius lunged across the room, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. My head snapped back. My teeth clicked together. "Answer me! Did you think you were being clever?"

I let my body go limp. I dropped to my knees, my head bowed, my hands lying useless and shaking on the floorboards. I made my breathing shallow. I played the part of the broken, terrified mute he thought he’d bought.

"That’s it," he hissed, his grip softening into a patronizing stroke down my hair. "Stay down there. You’re nothing without me. My father would discard you the second you stopped being a weapon against me."

He stepped back, a smug, oily satisfaction returning to his eyes. He thought he’d won. He thought the leash was back on.

Keep thinking that, I screamed internally. Think I'm small. Think I'm yours.

The second Ignatius left the house to drown his humiliation in a bottle of expensive rye, I moved. I didn't go for the door. I went for the burner phone I’d swiped from a drunken guest’s coat at the gala.

My fingers flew across the screen. I had memorized the number on the back of Cane Thorne’s business card—the one he’d slipped into my hand while Ignatius was busy being interrogated by the board members.

I have the ledgers, I texted. I know how he’s hiding the company money. Meet me at the garden house. 1 AM.

The garden house was a skeletal structure of iron and dead vines at the edge of the property. I slipped out through the kitchen window, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Cane was already there. He stood in the shadows, the cherry of his cigar glowing like a demon's eye.

"You’re late, little bird," Cane said. His voice was a grind of gravel.

I didn't waste time. I pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket—the notes I’d taken from Ignatius’s secret ledger. I handed it to him.

Cane snapped on a small penlight. His eyes narrowed as he read the figures. "Embezzlement. He’s siphoning family funds into offshore accounts just to keep this property—and you—off the books. My son is a fool. He’s putting the Thorne name at risk for a mute boy."

I took a pen from the table and wrote on the bottom of the page in jagged, desperate strokes: He’s obsessed. He’ll burn everything to keep me. Stop him.

Cane looked at me, his gaze cold and calculating. He didn't see a victim. He saw a tool. "Ignatius needs to be neutralized. If the board sees this, he’s finished. I’ll have him removed, and you... you'll be free. That’s what you want, isn’t it?"

He stepped closer, the smell of tobacco and power rolling off him. "Help me ruin my son's reputation. Be the witness to his madness. Do this, and I’ll give you your freedom. I'll even find your brother."

I looked into the eyes of the man who had raised the monster. I saw the same greed. The same hunger for control. If I took his deal, I was just swapping one cage for another.

I nodded slowly. I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it with a feigned, trembling gratitude. I let my eyes go soft, leaning into his space just enough to be provocative.

"Good," Cane whispered, his fingers curling around mine. "We have a deal."

He turned to leave, but I stayed in the shadows, my face shifting. The "broken boy" mask fell away, leaving something cold and sharp behind.

Ignatius wanted to own me. Cane wanted to use me.

I wasn't going to help the father ruin the son. I was going to feed them both to each other. I was going to climb the family tree until I reached the top, and then I was going to set the roots on fire.

Freedom? I thought, watching Cane’s retreating figure. No. I want the throne.

I looked down at the burner phone. One new message.

Private Caller: "I found Leo. He’s not at a casino. He’s in a Thorne-owned medical facility. Don't trust either of them."

My blood turned to ice. They hadn't just paid him to leave.