Chapter 3 - THE GILDED CAGE
My new world was a fortress of limestone, marble, and secrets. The Vitali estate sat on the edge of Lake Michigan, surrounded by a high wrought-iron fence and patrolled by men in tailored suits whose jackets bulked unnaturally over their ribs.
I was given a bedroom next to Elena’s in the east wing. It was luxurious—silk sheets, a clawfoot tub, a balcony overlooking the water—but the heavy lock on the door reminded me that it was merely a beautiful cell.
The first time I met Elena, she was sitting in a sunlit conservatory, a sketchbook on her lap. She was heartbreakingly small, her dark hair a stark contrast against her pale, almost translucent skin. She had her father’s gray eyes, but where Nico’s were stormy and hard, hers were wide and trusting.
"Are you the new lady?" she asked, her voice a fragile whisper.
"I'm Clara," I said softly, crouching down to her eye level. "I'm going to be taking care of you for a little while."
She showed me her drawing. It was a picture of a large black dog. "Papa says I can get a puppy when I'm better. But Dr. Evans says I have to rest a lot."
My ears pricked at the name. Dr. Evans. The family physician. I kept my smile in place as I gently took her pulse, noting the sluggish rhythm. "Well, we'll just have to make sure you get better very soon, won't we?"
Over the next two weeks, my life became a tense game of chess. I was the silent shadow at Elena’s side. I prepared all her meals myself, refusing to let the kitchen staff handle her plates. I locked her medications in a safe only I knew the combination to.
Nico was a ghost in his own home during the day, running a criminal empire that bled into the very foundations of the city. But every night, exactly at eight o'clock, he would come to Elena’s room. He would read to her, his harsh voice softening into a low, soothing rhythm. I watched him from the corner of the room, struggling to reconcile the ruthless mob boss who had bought me with the devoted father who kissed his daughter's feverish forehead.
The friction between us was constant. We were two stubborn people forced into proximity. I defied him in small ways—refusing his money, talking back when he gave me unreasonable orders, and glaring at him when he tried to intimidate me.
"You look at me as if I'm the devil," he noted one night in the hallway after Elena had fallen asleep.
"You bought a human being, Nico," I replied coldly. "Don't ask me to pretend you're a saint."
May you like
He stepped closer, backing me slowly against the mahogany wall. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, a dangerous warning sign my body was ignoring. "I don't want you to pretend anything," he murmured, his breath brushing my ear. "Just keep her breathing. Do that, and I'll let you keep your soul."
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