CHAINS OF SILK

Every night in the penthouse felt like a prison..soft sheets, silk curtains, and silence that pressed against her skull.

Aria sat on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, city lights flickering through the rain-streaked glass.

Her phone lay useless beside her pillow. Every number, every contact that once tethered her to the real world is gone. Just a brick now.

She thought of her parents. Her mother’s dawn tea. Her father hummed old love songs under his breath when he thought no one could hear.

Did they even know where she was?

Or did they think she had abandoned them?

The door clicked open.

Luca stood there, half-shadowed, in black slacks and a white shirt undone at the collar. His hair was damp, rain still clinging to him. He didn’t knock. He never did.

“You should be sleeping,” he said.

“I can’t.”

He shut the door behind him with a soft, final thud. His eyes lingered on her, dark and unreadable.

“Is it the sickness?” His glance dropped to her belly. He never said the word baby. At least not yet.

“No.” Her throat tightened. She forced the words out. “Where are they?”

His brow lifted. “Who?”

“My parents.” Her voice cracked. “Do they know where I am? Do they think I just disappeared?”

He crossed to her slowly, each step deliberate, like she might bolt. Her pulse betrayed her when he knelt in front of her.

“They’re safe,” he said evenly. “Being looked after.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Her voice shook. “Do they know what I did for them?”

Something flickered in his eyes..regret, maybe. Or just irritation at her defiance.

“They don’t need to know everything,” he said softly, but his tone was sharp as glass. “They wouldn’t understand.”

She recoiled. “So they think I abandoned them.”

“No,” he snapped. For a moment, control slipped—something raw flashed through. “They know you’re safe. They know you’re… taken care of.”

“By you.” Her laugh was bitter. “Like I’m some pet you feed scraps.”

His jaw clenched. “Do you want them to know the truth? Did you sell yourself? That their freedom cost you your future, your pride, your…”

“My body?” she cut in, her voice steel.

He rose, towering over her, but she didn’t flinch.

“You can hate me all you want,” he said, low. “But you made this choice.”

Her laugh cut through the silence, sharp and dry. “Did I? Or did you make it the moment you shoved that contract down my throat?”

Silence thickened. A car horn echoed from the street below life moving on while hers stayed trapped in glass walls.

“Can I see them?” she whispered. “Just once. Please.”

His eyes softened for half a second enough to steal her breath.

“No.” Too quick. Too harsh.

“Why? Because you don’t trust me not to run?”

“Because you’re not strong enough yet,” he snapped, then froze like he’d said too much.

Her heart stumbled. “Strong enough for what?”

He raked a hand through his damp hair, pacing to the window. For the first time, he looked unsettled, like the mask didn’t quite fit.

“You’re carrying my child,” he said finally, his back still turned. “If something happened to you to them”

The words cracked her walls.

“So you do care.”

His reflection met hers in the glass, haunted. “Don’t mistake this for kindness. It’s necessary.”

She pushed off the bed, closing the space between them until heat rolled off him.

“Necessary,” she hissed. “What about what I need, Luca? What about what I want?”

His hands caught her wrists before she could shove him. His grip burned.

“You want me to lie?” His voice was low, rough. “Pretend I don’t wake up in the night wondering if you’re still here? Pretend I don’t check the guards because I know you’d rather jump than stay?”

Her pulse thundered. “Then let me see them.”

He pulled her closer, so close her knees brushed his thighs.

“Not yet.”

“Why?” she choked.

His grip slid from her wrists to her waist, firm and possessive.

“Because if you see them, you’ll remember what freedom feels like. And you’ll hate me all over again.”

She stared up at him. Brutal honesty had cracked his armor. For a second, she thought he might kiss her.

She almost wanted him to.

“Luca…”

Instead, his forehead pressed to hers, his eyes shut tight.

“Don’t run from me,” he whispered. “Don’t make me remind you who you belong to.”

She should have shoved him away. Instead, her fists curled into his shirt.

“Don’t make me want to stay,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

He drew back just enough to meet her eyes. A flicker of something real burned there…raw and dangerous.

“You already do.”

Then his mouth crushed hers not sweet, but desperate. All storm and possession, no gentleness.

And for one reckless heartbeat, Aria forgot everything…her parents, the lies, the cage.

All she wanted was him.