Chapter 1 The Perfect Cage

The glass walls of the apartment gleamed like they had been polished just to remind me of everything I could see but never touch. Beyond them, Los Angeles sparkled with restless lights, cars moving like stars on strips of asphalt, laughing spilling from streets I was no longer allowed to walk on.

And here I stood barefoot on marble floors, my silk dress heavy on my shoulders, my heart heavier still.

“Why aren’t you smiling, Ava?” His voice slid behind me, smooth and sharp, the way a knife might sound if it could speak. “People are watching.”

I turned. Charles Donovan, the man I had once thought would save me, stood in his tailored suit, a glass of bourbon swirling slowly in his hand. His pale eyes didn’t look at me; they pierced me, looking for cracks.

“I’m tired,” I whispered, forcing the kind of soft voice he liked. The obedient wife's voice. “It was a long night.”

His lips twitched in something between a smile and a warning. “You don’t get to be tired. Tired is for the people who serve us. You are Mrs. Donovan. You live to shine. Don’t you forget it.”

My throat burned, but I swallowed. “Of course.”

He stepped closer, his cologne crisp and stifling, his shadow falling over me. He touched my chin, tilting it upward like I was a doll he owned. “You looked beautiful tonight. Every man in that room envied me. Every woman wanted to be you.”

I wanted to tell him beauty meant nothing if your soul was dying. Instead, I gave a small nod, my lips shaking as if I agreed.

Charles studied me, sipping his whiskey, eyes narrowing. “But your smile faded when I mentioned the Carter deal.”

My stomach clenched. He always noticed. Always.

“I didn’t realize,” I whispered. “I was only distracted.”

“Distracted?” His voice dropped low. “By what, Ava?”

By the thought of running. By the thought that my life wasn’t mine anymore. By the thought that if I didn’t leave, I would die inside this palace of glass.

But I said, “By the music. It was too loud.”

He laughed, but it was a cold sound, hollow. “You’re a terrible liar. Do you know what happens to bad liars?”

I froze. “No.”

“They lose everything.” He pressed his glass into my hand, the cold mist soaking my palm. “And you have so much to lose, don’t you? Your family. Your image. The little dreams you still cling to. Don’t test me, Ava.”

I wanted to scream. Instead, I forced myself to take a sip of the sour drink, the liquid burning my throat. He smiled then, pleased, as if obedience was all the love he required.

“I married you for a reason,” Charles continued. “You’re my trophy, yes. But you’re also my tool. Your charm soothes my edges, makes investors trust me. Without you, I’d look cruel. With you, I look untouchable.”

I stared at him, pulse pounding in my ears. “And what do I look like?”

His smirk widened. “Perfect.”

Perfect. The word slammed into me like a curse. Perfect wife. Perfect mask. Perfect cage.

He set his glass down and brushed a strand of hair from my face, almost tender, if compassion could ever exist in a guy like him. “I trust you won’t forget your role.”

His fingers stayed too long, cold against my cheek.

I mumbled, “I won’t.”

But inside, a storm screamed otherwise.

---

Later, after he withdrew to his office, I sat by the huge window that overlooked the city. The lights below pulsed like a heartbeat, wild and free. Mine felt trapped, smothering.

I remembered the girl I used to beAva Sinclair, twenty-two, filled with sketches, paint-stained fingers, laughs that came naturally. That girl was gone. In her place stood a woman dressed in silk and silence, her every move watched.

I pressed my face against the glass. The city whispered lures. Just one night, it seemed to say. One night to feel alive. One night to break free.

Behind me, the sound of Charles’ footsteps echoed. I stiffened.

He appeared, phone in hand, eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “The Carter deal will secure everything. Our future, our kingdom. I need you perfect for the announcement. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You will smile, you will nod, and you will make the world believe you adore me.”

“And if I don’t?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

His eyes snapped to mine, cold and sharp. He leaned in close, voice low and poisonous. “Then you’ll learn just how fragile freedom really is.”

Something inside me cracked. For the first time, I saw him not as my husband, not as the man I once tried to love, but as the jailer of my life.

“I’ll do what you ask,” I whispered, though the taste of the words was like ash in my mouth.

“Good girl.” He kissed my cheek like signing a deal.

When he left again, the quiet roared louder than his threats.

I curled into myself, looking down at the sparkling world below. My reflection looked like a stranger's eyes faded, lips pressed tight.

And then, almost without noticing, I whispered to the glass, to the city, to myself:

“Just one night of freedom. That’s all I need.”

As the city lights shimmered, a dangerous thought took root in Ava’s heartone that would fire everything that followed. *One night to run, one night to burn.*