جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 60

The Harbourline Penthouse had always been too quiet.Even before Mason moved Daphne into it, before the security cameras and scheduled drivers and carefully arranged flowers, the place had carried the polished emptiness of a showroom. Glass walls overlooked the city. Pale stone floors reflected every light. The furniture was expensive enough to discourage anyone from sitting comfortably.Warren had designed it differently.He had once stood beside Daphne in the unfinished living room, sleeves rolled to his elbows, gesturing toward the windows.“Morning light will hit this wall first,” he had told her. “I wanted a reading space here. Not another room people only use when they’re trying to impress someone.”Daphne had laughed then.“You designed a reading space into a penthouse for billionaires?”“I designed a home,” he said. “What people do with it is their problem.”Now, standing in that same room, Daphne ran her fingers along the edge of the built-in shelf Warren had described. It wa

The pen lay beside the contract like a weapon disguised as courtesy.Daphne stood over the glass coffee table, reading the final page again though the words had already branded themselves into her mind.Private marital agreement.Unified public image.Protective oversight.Every phrase had been chosen to sound reasonable. Every paragraph hid another way for Mason to control her—where she lived, who she saw, which doctors could speak to her, what would happen if she made a decision he did not approve of.And beneath all of it sat the blank line waiting for her name.Mason watched her from the armchair.He had poured himself a drink. Amber liquid caught the warm glow of the lamps as he lifted the glass, calm enough to make her sick.“Well?” he asked.Daphne shut the folder.“No.”The word hung in the room.Mason did not react immediately. He took one measured sip, then set his glass down.“No?” he repeated.“I will not sign this.”“You have not read it carefully.”“I read enough.”“It g

The morning of her wedding arrived colourless and cold.Toronto lay beneath a low ceiling of cloud, the skyline blurred behind a veil of early snow. From the windows of the Harbourline Penthouse, the city looked almost gentle—glass towers softened at their edges, streets quiet beneath white dust, the harbour hidden under mist.Daphne knew better.Beautiful things could still be prisons.She stood in front of the bedroom mirror while two stylists moved silently behind her, securing the final pins in her hair. The gown Mason had chosen hung around her body in layers of ivory silk. It was elegant without being warm, expensive without feeling personal. The long sleeves covered her wrists. The high neckline made her feel as though she were being fastened into armour.Or wrapped for burial.Her hand drifted to her stomach.The baby was still too small for anyone to notice beneath the gown. Yet Daphne felt the child’s presence in every breath she took. A secret heartbeat she had heard only

The cameras went dark at ten seventeen the next morning.Daphne knew the exact time because she had been watching the small clock above the kitchen doorway, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea she had not touched. The Harbourline Penthouse had become so carefully controlled that silence now had a schedule.At ten fifteen, Nora entered with a maintenance technician in a grey uniform.At ten sixteen, the technician opened the panel beside the dining-room wall and began speaking in a bored, professional tone about a “signal interruption.”At ten seventeen, the tiny red light in the camera above the hallway blinked twice.Then vanished.Daphne did not look up.Nora poured fresh water into the kettle. “It should take approximately twelve minutes,” she said.Her voice sounded calm, but her fingers trembled slightly around the handle.Twelve minutes.Daphne had spent the entire night waiting for them.Mason had left for Sonwells before dawn. He had kissed her cheek as though they were a no

Arthur’s words followed Daphne all the way back to Harbourline.Your mother died because she asked the wrong questions.They repeated in her mind with every turn of the car wheels, every red light reflected across the rain-streaked windows, every silent glance exchanged between Mason’s security men in the front seat.Daphne sat in the back of the black sedan, her coat held tightly around her.Helena’s letter was hidden inside the lining of her handbag.She had folded it twice more before leaving the Beckett estate, making it small enough to slip beneath the inner seam where an old pocket had torn loose. Her hands had shaken as she did it. Not because she believed Mason’s guards would search her in front of Arthur.But because she knew they could.Because she knew that, if Mason wanted something from her, no private thing remained private for long.The city passed outside in blurred shapes of steel and water. Toronto looked beautiful under the rain—glass towers glittering grey against