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Chapter 29: A Breath of Stolen Air

Penulis: cindyy
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-12-15 19:30:03

The tension in the penthouse, a constant hum beneath the surface of Lynn's new "productive" facade, was abruptly severed by a business crisis. A major acquisition in Europe was on the verge of collapsing, requiring Caius's immediate and personal attention. James delivered the news briskly: Mr. Evans would be leaving for Zurich that evening and was expected to be away for several days.

Lynn received the news with a carefully neutral expression. "I see," he said, his voice even. Inside, a wild, frantic hope surged so violently he felt lightheaded. Days. He would have days without Caius's direct, oppressive presence. The ever-watchful eye would be thousands of miles away. It was the opportunity he had been desperately waiting for.

He maintained his composure as Caius prepared to leave. There were no sentimental goodbyes. Caius stood in the foyer, briefcase in hand, his gaze sweeping over Lynn with its usual assessing intensity.

"James will handle everything," Caius stated, his tone busin
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  • Plaything in one's palm    Chapter 76

    The days following the email leak were a descent into a silent, high-stakes war. The penthouse became the nerve center of a corporate siege. Caius was a ghost, visible only in fleeting glimpses—pacing the study during endless conference calls, his voice a low, relentless drumbeat of commands and countermeasures. The air was thick with the scent of strong coffee and tension. He had James install multiple large screens in the study, each displaying a different battlefield: stock tickers, news feeds, legal dockets. The empire was under assault, and Caius was fighting a multi-front war with a cold, terrifying ferocity.Lynn kept to the periphery, a silent witness to the storm. He saw the strain on Caius’s face, the shadows under his eyes that no amount of authority could conceal. The invincible facade was still there, but it was stretched thin, like ice over a raging river. The emails had struck a blow far deeper than any scandal about Lynn’s captivity. They had attacked the foundation of

  • Plaything in one's palm    Chapter 75

    The manufactured calm lasted less than forty-eight hours. The Evans Group's slick press release and carefully staged photographs had successfully muddied the waters, turning public sympathy towards the "sensitive artist" and casting doubt on the initial salacious reports. But it was a temporary victory, a bandage on a festering wound. Lynn existed in a state of suspended animation, the taste of humiliation still bitter in his mouth. He avoided the studio—it felt tainted by the photoshoot—and spent his time listlessly staring out the window, watching the city that was buzzing with a distorted version of his life.The new attack came not from a tabloid, but from a respected, mainstream financial investigative journal, The Capital Ledger. It wasn't a whisper; it was a thunderclap.James entered the living room, his face graver than Lynn had ever seen it. He handed Lynn a tablet without a word. The headline was stark black and white, devoid of sensationalism, which made it all the more te

  • Plaything in one's palm   Chapter 74

    The day after the scandal broke, the penthouse was a hive of silent, furious activity. Caius was sequestered in his study, the low, constant murmur of his voice on conference calls a testament to the battle being waged in the digital and corporate arenas. Lynn remained in his room, the tablet James had given him a window to the outside storm. He watched as the initial tabloid article was picked up by more mainstream outlets, the narrative of the "troubled artist" and the "controlling billionaire" gaining traction. Each new headline was a fresh wave of nausea. He saw his own face—haunting, beautiful, vulnerable—splashed across gossip sites, a symbol in a story he hadn't chosen.He felt a perverse sense of exposure, as if his skin had been peeled back for public consumption. The gilded cage had become a panopticon, and he was the star attraction.In the late afternoon, James entered without knocking. He carried a garment bag and a demeanor of grim efficiency. "Mr. Lynn," he said, hangin

  • Plaything in one's palm   Chapter 73

    The fragile, thorn-protected peace of the penthouse was shattered not by a physical attack, but by a digital whisper that grew into a roar. It began subtly. Lynn was in the living room, attempting to read, when James entered with a tablet, his face a mask of grim neutrality."Mr. Lynn," he said, his tone carefully devoid of inflection. "You should see this."Lynn took the tablet, a cold dread settling in his stomach. On the screen was an article from a sleazy but popular online tabloid, The Daily Whisper. The headline was sensationalist clickbait: "IS EVANS GROUP HEIR HOLDING ARTIST CAPTIVE? SHOCKING DETAILS OF RE-EMERGED PRODIGY'S DISAPPEARANCE!"The article was a masterclass in insinuation. It mentioned Lynn's "sudden and mysterious" withdrawal from the art scene after his acclaimed Swiss exhibition. It featured a grainy but poignant photo of him from the opening night of Unsilenced, looking pale, intense, and hauntingly beautiful—the perfect image of a troubled genius. It quoted "a

  • Plaything in one's palm    Chapter 72

    The days that followed the crisis with Anna settled into a new, eerie normal. The penthouse was no longer a place of tense lessons or silent hostility. It was a command center under a state of high alert. Security personnel moved with quiet efficiency, their presence a constant, low hum in the background. Reports came and went on encrypted tablets. Lynn was free to roam, but the freedom felt different now. It was the freedom of a valuable specimen in a maximum-security lab—observed, protected, and utterly contained.The frantic energy that had driven Lynn’s previous paintings was gone. In its place was a heavy, contemplative stillness. He spent most of his time in the studio, but he wasn't painting with the wild, emotional abandon of before. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost ritualistic. He was processing not just emotion, but a complex, chilling reality.He started a new canvas. This one was large, demanding a different approach. He didn't reach for the violent reds and bla

  • Plaything in one's palm   Chapter 71

    The hours that followed Lynn’s frantic dash to the study were a blur of tense, silent waiting. Locked in his room, as ordered, Lynn could only pace the floor, his mind a whirlwind of fear and dread. Every creak of the penthouse, every distant hum, sent his heart into a frantic rhythm. He imagined the worst: men in black suits descending on Anna’s peaceful facility, Marcus’s retaliation, a phone call bearing unimaginable news. The image of the hydrotherapy system, a Trojan horse of goodwill concealing a threat, haunted him.He didn't sleep. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the door, waiting for it to open, for the verdict to be delivered. The gilded cage felt more like a prison than ever, but now it was a prison he was terrified to leave, because outside its walls, a predator was circling his most vulnerable loved one.Just after dawn, the lock on his door clicked open.Lynn shot to his feet, his body rigid with tension. Caius stood in the doorway. He looked exactly as he had

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