Chapter 6 - THE TWIST OF THE BLADE
Three months had passed since the night of the attack.
The Vance estate had become my world. I had my own wing, beautifully decorated, filled with books, art, and clothes that cost more than my mother's clinic. My mother was recovering well at St. Margaret's, her health improving daily thanks to the private doctors Silas had hired.
In public, we were the perfect couple. The media wrote stories about the mysterious, beautiful woman who had captured the heart of Boston's most elusive bachelor. The board had quieted down, intimidated by Silas's swift execution of Julian and his consolidation of power.
But in private, we were a storm waiting to happen.
We kept our distance, but the tension between us was a physical thing. Every time we touched in public, every time he held my hand or kissed my cheek for the cameras, a jolt of pure electric heat went through me. I was falling in love with him, and it terrified me.
One evening, Silas invited me to his private study.
It was a room I had never entered—a dark, wood-paneled space filled with old books, leather chairs, and a massive mahogany desk.
He sat behind the desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked tired, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up.
"Sit, Celine," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I sat down, my heart beating slightly faster. "Is something wrong?"
"The two-year agreement," Silas said, sliding a piece of paper across the desk. "I want to nullify it."
I froze. "What?"
"I don't want a temporary marriage, Celine," Silas said, his eyes fixed on mine, burning with a quiet intensity. "I want a real one. I want you to be my wife. For good."
My breath caught in my throat. "Silas... you don't mean that. This was a business deal."
"It stopped being a business deal the moment you ran out into the rain with a silver candle holder to save my life," he said, standing up and walking around the desk. He stopped in front of me, leaning down, his hands resting on the arms of my chair, trapping me. "I have spent my whole life surrounded by people who want to use me, betray me, or kill me. You are the only person who has ever stood by me because of who I am, not what I can give you."
"Silas..." I whispered, my heart hammering.
"I love you, Celine," he said, the words heavy and real. "And I think you love me too."
I looked up at him, the truth staring back at me. He was right. I did love him.
"I do," I whispered.
He smiled, a beautiful, genuine smile, and leaned down to kiss me. His lips were warm, urgent, and possessive. I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting myself drown in the feeling of him.
But the moment of bliss was shattered by a loud crash from the hallway.
The door to the study burst open.
It was Bree.
She was covered in sweat, her red hair wild, a gun in her hand. Behind her, two of Silas's guards lay unconscious on the floor.
"Bree!" I gasped, standing up, pushing Silas back. "What are you doing?"
Bree didn't look at me. She kept her gun trained on Silas.
"I'm saving you, Celine," Bree said, her voice shaking but determined. "I told you I'd call you if he appeared. But you didn't call me. Because you were too busy playing house with the man who ruined your life."
I blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"The clinic fire, Celine," Bree said, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and pity. "The fire that almost killed your mother. It wasn't an accident. And it wasn't the Morettis."
She tossed a small leather folder onto the desk.
"Look at the files, Celine. Look at the signatures."
I slowly reached out, my hand trembling as I opened the folder.
Inside were bank transfer receipts, floor plans of the Saint Jude Clinic, and a signed contract paying a local arsonist fifty thousand dollars to burn the building down.
The signature at the bottom of the page was bold, elegant, and instantly recognizable.
Silas Vance.
My world shattered.
I looked at Silas, my throat tightening so much I couldn't breathe. "Silas... is this true?"
Silas didn't look at the paper. He looked at me, his face turning into a mask of pure, freezing stone.
"You needed a reason to ask for my help, Celine," Silas said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth he had shown just moments ago. "You were too stubborn. You would have worked yourself to death before accepting my charity. I had to create a situation where you had no choice but to come to me."
"You... you burned down my mother's clinic," I whispered, tears spilling over my eyelashes, burning my cheeks. "She almost died! I almost lost her!"
"I had my men inside before the fire even started," Silas said, his voice terrifyingly reasonable. "She was never in danger. I controlled the entire situation."
"You are a monster," I gasped, stepping back, away from him.
"I am the man who saved you, Celine," Silas said, taking a step toward me. "Look around you. You have everything you ever wanted. Your mother is healthy. You are safe. You love me."
"I loved a lie!" I screamed.
Bree stepped forward, her finger tightening on the trigger. "Move away from her, Vance. We're leaving."
"You are not leaving," Silas said.
Before Bree could react, Dante appeared in the doorway behind her. A silencer-equipped pistol flashed once.
Thwip.
Bree gasped, her eyes widening in shock as a small red circle bloomed on her chest. The gun slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor, and she collapsed, her red hair splaying out across the dark wood.
"Bree!" I shrieked, throwing myself onto the floor beside her, grabbing her hand. "No, no, please, Bree!"
She looked at me, her eyes dulling, the light fading. "Run..." she whispered, her last breath escaping her lips.
I let out a raw, broken sob, clutching her cold hand to my chest.
A shadow fell over me.
Silas stood over us, his face expressionless. He looked down at Bree's body, then up at Dante.
"Clean this up," Silas ordered.
He reached down, his strong hands catching me by the elbows, lifting me effortlessly from the floor. I fought against him, kicking and screaming, but his grip was like iron. He pulled me flush against his chest, holding me so tightly I could feel the steady, terrifying beat of his heart.
"Let me go!" I sobbed, striking his chest with my fists. "I hate you! I hate you!"
Silas caught my wrists, holding them together in one of his massive hands. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear.
May you like
"You can hate me all you want, Celine," he whispered, his voice dark, possessive, and absolute. "But you are my wife. You signed the contract. You belong to me. And in my world... no one ever escapes."
He kissed my cheek, tasting my tears, before turning and walking toward the door, dragging me with him into the dark, glittering gold of the cage I had built for myself.
