All Chapters of Plaything in one's palm: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The days bled into a monotonous, nerve-shredding rhythm. Lynn’s world had shrunk to the dimensions of his locked room, the sterile studio, and the oppressive silence of the dining table. He was a ghost in the machine of Caius’s life, a tolerated but deeply suspect presence. The initial, fragile acceptance born of his desperate lie had solidified into a state of permanent, watchful containment.Caius was a ghost as well, but a powerful, omnipresent one. He moved through the penthouse with a cold, focused intensity that was more terrifying than his previous rages. He spent most of his time sequestered in his study, the door a firm, unbreachable barrier. But his presence was felt in the new locks, the ever-watchful cameras, and the heavy silence that fell whenever he emerged.It was during the deep silence of the nights that Lynn felt the walls closing in most acutely. Locked in his room, he would lie awake, his senses straining. And sometimes, he would hear it: the low, muffled murmur o

The echo of Lynn’s raw, screaming confession seemed to hang in the air of the studio long after the sound had died. The silence that followed was not peaceful; it was a vacuum, thick and heavy, sucking all the oxygen from the room. Lynn stood frozen, his arm still tingling from the ghost of Caius’s crushing grip, his face wet with tears and smeared paint. He felt flayed open, every nerve ending exposed to the cold, sterile air.Caius didn't move. He stood before him, a statue carved from shock and something else—something unreadable. His gaze was fixed on Lynn, but it was no longer the piercing, analytical stare of a jailer examining his prisoner. It was wider, deeper, as if he were seeing Lynn for the first time, and the sight was profoundly unsettling. The fury that had contorted his features had vanished, leaving behind a pale, almost haggard stillness. The mask of the invulnerable tyrant had cracked, and for a terrifying moment, Lynn saw the man beneath—a man confronted with the b

The air in the warehouse was thick with the smell of dust, whiskey, and fear. Marcus’s face, cold and mocking, was inches from Lynn’s. The accusation hung between them, a poisonous cloud. Caius’s whore. The words were a violation, a final stripping away of any remaining dignity.Lynn’s mind, frozen with terror, scrambled for a defense. “No!” he choked out, the word raw and desperate. He strained against the plastic ties cutting into his wrists. “I’m not working for him! He doesn’t trust me! He locked me away! He’s using the information you gave me to destroy you! I told you the truth!”It was a frantic, tangled mess of half-truths and lies, the only shield he had left.Marcus’s smile was a cruel, thin line. “The truth?” he sneered. He straightened up, his expression turning to ice. “You’re a terrible liar.” His hand moved faster than Lynn could react, a sharp, stinging backhand that snapped his head to the side. Pain exploded across Lynn’s cheekbone, bright and shocking. Tears of pain

The ride to the penthouse was a silent, pressurized journey through the neon-lit veins of the city. Caius never released his grip on Lynn’s wrist, his hold a constant, bruising reminder of the line that had been crossed. Lynn sat frozen, the adrenaline ebbing away to leave a hollow, trembling exhaustion in its wake. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, meaningless streaks of color. He was being taken back to the cage, but the cage felt different now. The warden had stormed the gates of hell to retrieve him, and the cost of that retrieval was a debt Lynn couldn't begin to comprehend.They entered the penthouse through the private garage, bypassing the main entrance. The familiar opulence of the foyer felt alien, a stage set after a real war. The silence was profound, broken only by the soft click of the door and their footsteps on the marble floor.Caius finally released Lynn’s wrist as they stepped inside. The sudden absence of pressure left a phantom ache. He didn't look

The days after the explosion in the study settled into a new, more terrifying normal. The silence returned, but it was different now—a heavy, watchful silence, like the calm after an earthquake, waiting for the aftershocks. The penthouse felt like a fortress on high alert. Lynn could feel the tension humming through the walls, a constant, low-grade vibration of menace. He remained in his room, a prisoner in a gilded isolation cell, his world shrunk to the four walls and the ever-present view of a city he was cut off from.He slept fitfully, his dreams haunted by the sound of shattering glass and Caius’s roar of fury. What news had been so catastrophic? What had Marcus done? The not knowing was a form of torture. He was adrift in a sea of uncertainty, and the only lifeboat was the man who had locked him away.It was deep in the heart of the night, in the absolute stillness between midnight and dawn, when the sound came. Not a shout, not a crash. A soft, almost imperceptible click.Lynn