His Name;Her Cage

sses-slow, heavy, bit

full–All her clothes together couldn't fill them, just the way her heart couldn't get filled. A torn sweater. Two dresses with worn-out collars. A pair of flats with the soles separatin

uch. Didn't talk

and drowned in an ocean of guilt. Her mother tried to speak once or twice, offering a few broken

n the c

ust a

the whole street of Neon Ridge, they looked untouched b

ife. The neighbors heard it before they saw it-engine purring like a beast

tied back in a loose knot. Her face was bare-no powder, no gloss, no mask. Just raw tr

n't say

by the stove pretending to scr

who didn't come o

aid her hair as a child or the seamstress who

gave a hug. Tight. Lasting. Wordless. She buried her face i

ugged her back with all the strength in his littl

en she

ore than her father's entire debt. He didn't say a word eit

without looking back

nk, sealing her fate with it. Seal

rom the wreckage she had cal

g to the Mi

an arranged m

g off the ol

so rich...

ld. Heartless. Go

rything as a means of

Or maybe she did, and she

tightly on her lap. The world outside blurred as the slum

dn't show o

was a beautifu

that ch

ll at

ho left Neon Ridge would never be the s

han usual. The roads were quiet, almost unnaturally so, like even the wind held its breath for what was coming. Scarle

Grief had aged her overnight. Regret curled into her like a shadow she couldn't shake. Her eyes remained fixed, but her thoughts spun wildly, like a tornad

as okay, didn't cough, didn't flinch. His gaze stayed ahead, hands firm on the

t said a singl

n-it ap

uturistic fairytale. It was tall, black, and gleamed like a polished weapon. Symbol

the g

ans

kin

ast stretching after slumber. Acres-no, hectares-of manicured land, paved walkways that tw

ery heart of it all

, cascading balconies, glinting windows that towered into the sky, it wasn't jus

ling down into spiralling layers with such grace it looked choreographed. Sculptures danced around i

te like it belonged there, like eve

o doubt-lined

s coiled into the back of their ears, wires slipping discreetly under their collars. Their eyes hidden behind d

ues train

tt swa

he engine went silent. For a second, all she could hear was t

e. The door opened smoothly, almost reverently, and sunligh

the house-the empire-

the ground, the first th

romantic sense. But in the cold, signed-on-paper, seal

was the most beau

ven, sharp as judgment. The view it offered wasn't just a display of the lush expanse below; it w

eed, th

, the other holding a sleek glass of aged tequila-the kind that smelled of wood, smoke, and old money. He

his father said

lar glass in hand, years of built empires etched into the lines of his face. Hair silver at the tem

rived," he added, l

But something in

me the

of l

admir

wer coiled tightly around his spine and

her pawn in

e he didn't need to. Control was his air. The kin

father said idly, lifting the glass to

t, amused smirk. "It's not about where she's from,

tween them set

rom the sunlight that spilt like gold across the m

lies. No f

n't a lo

nd Kyle Miles always c

he estate. The wind brushed gently against her face, carrying with it the scent of trimmed roses and distant

roud-like a pinea

iet defiance clinging to her bones, ev

es lowered with practised discipline. She offered a so

t, miss. Pleas

n nodded once and released the box. Her

ough royalty had arrived. The moment she stepped inside, the air changed. I

uring faces that looked like they'd never known hunger, never felt fear. Art that breathed arrogance. Pieces so rare, she could

d's shoes ahead. Wooden columns stood like soldiers, polished to perfection. The grand staircase un

V, during a parade for a foreign que

before a tall, pale door

d the kno

en like a scene strai

's breat

in sheer white curtains that floated with the breeze. The comforter looked like clouds had been hand-stitched into velve

, suits, shoes in every colour. The spectrum glimmered like a peacock's tail, vibrant and impossible. Brand

t move fo

king it all in, letting the sweet,

oom with broken

had just stepped

how beautiful

felt like

still clutched in her hand, as if letting go of it meant accepting this was real. The high ceilings stretched above her like

didn't feel comfort. She felt tired. Her body rested, but her heart screamed. She lay still, letting the tears come-those quiet, hot tears she pac

rgot where she was. It was larger than her entire bedroom back home. Marble gleamed under her bare feet. Mirrors lined the walls. A gold-plated showerhead gl

ed with the evidence of a girl who didn't ask for this. Her ch

feline. Her fingers trembled when she reached for the pins in her bun. Loosening them felt like

ross her shoulders. A

spine gently, slid over her curves as if to remind her she was still al

ng wail that came from somewhere buried, somewhere only she knew existed. Th

so heartless, so used to people cryi

sh the pain back in. Her knees slowly bent under her, and she sat in the middle of

No one asked i

t hurt more t

r, but her skin-now bare, freshly bathed-gleamed under the soft bathroom lights. For the first time in forever, her skin wasn't dull

he mirror again. This ti

They shimmered like wet honey under the lights. Her cheeks were flushed, not from crying this time, but from warmth, from li

she looked like witho

n her back. She lifted it with one hand, marveled at the color, the silkine

er bo

curves that told stories of softness and strength. Her waist curved inward like poetry; her hips spoke of womanho

soft it could have been made from the fur of a polar bear. She wrapped it around her body and was swallow

tly over the cold marble. The silence was no longer haunting

at the waist, her hands resting in her l

yel

tes cr

ld di

d

beg

sha

clean, glowing...

would bring. She didn't even k

forever, Scarlett Andrews didn't fe

a stranger t

also f