The ride to the Blackwood Estate was completely silent. Nora sat in the backseat of the black sedan, watching the rain wash over the window as the city skyline slowly disappeared. She expected to feel a surge of panic, but instead, there was just a dull, exhausting numbness. She looked down at her lap, her fingers tracing the edge of the crisp, white carbon copy of the contract she had just signed. It felt heavy, like a set of iron shackles resting in her hands.
When the car finally pulled through the massive iron gates, the house came into view. It was a sprawling, modern structure built from dark stone and glass, perched right on the edge of a jagged cliff overlooking the dark ocean. The architecture was sharp and geometric, carved directly into the black rock. It looked more like a museum or a high-end corporate headquarters than a place where someone actually lived. It possessed no warmth, no welcoming lights, and no signs of life. It was a fortress designed to keep the world out, and to keep her in.
The driver, Viktor, parked the vehicle in the underground garage and led her up a private elevator without saying a word.
"Mr. Blackwood is currently handling a crisis with the logistics merger at the downtown office," Viktor said as the elevator doors slid open onto the main floor. "He will not be returning to the estate tonight."
Nora felt a small, immediate wave of relief wash over her chest. She was not ready to face him again so soon after the humiliation in his office. But as she stepped into the grand foyer, she realized she did not need to see him to feel his presence. The entire place smelled exactly like him. The air was heavy with his signature scent, an expensive mix of cedarwood, leather, and a faint hint of bitter tobacco. It rolled over her senses, a subtle, constant reminder of whose roof she was under, and who now owned her life.
Viktor led her down a long, minimalist hallway to the east wing of the house. The floors were made of polished concrete, buffed to such a high shine that they reflected the geometric chandeliers above like a frozen lake. At the very end of the corridor, Viktor swiped a black keycard against a digital scanner, and the heavy oak door unlocked with a quiet beep.
"This is your wing," Viktor explained, gesturing for her to step inside. "Your clothes and personal items have already been brought up from your old apartment. Dinner will be left in the kitchen downstairs at eight."
Nora stepped inside the room, her wet canvas sneakers squeaking against the pristine hardwood floors. Before she could turn around to ask about her brother Leo, Viktor pulled the heavy door shut behind her.
A heavy, automatic click followed. Nora rushed back to the door, grabbed the silver handle, and pushed with all her weight. It would not budge. The lock was controlled remotely. She could not leave the wing without a keycard. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to try and call her brother, but there was no signal. The device had been completely blocked by a security jammer.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and looked around her new prison. The suite was staggering in its size, bigger than her entire old apartment. It had a king-sized bed dressed in plain slate-gray linens, a small sitting area, a private study, and a luxurious marble bathroom. In the corner of the room, her two taped-up cardboard boxes looked completely out of place against the flawless interior.
Then she noticed the small, glossy black domes mounted high up in the corners of the ceiling.
A tiny, steady red light blinked on each one.
Cameras.
There were no blind spots in the living space. Killian was not even in the building, but he had set it up so he could watch her every move from his phone or his office desk. Every step she took, every time she sat down, and every time she checked the windows, someone would be monitoring her.
Nora walked over to her boxes, sat down on the floor next to them, and pulled her knees tight against her chest. She did not cry. She was too tired for tears, her body completely drained from the confrontation at Blackwood Tower. She just stared across the room at the little red blinking light in the corner, realizing that her life was no longer her own. She was a bird in a gilded cage, completely cut off from the world, living in the shadow of a man who wanted to break her pride.
She looked out the massive glass window at the dark, churning ocean below, watching the waves crash violently against the rocks.
"Welcome to hell," she whispered to her own reflection.