No windows.
No visible locks from the inside.
Luxury without freedom.
“You’re insane,” she whispered.
Kai entered behind her.
The elevator doors slid shut.
“This is temporary,” he said. “Until the board meeting next week. I can’t have you interfering again.”
“You can’t keep me here.”
He stepped close enough that she felt the heat of him.
“I can,” he said quietly. “And I will.”
Gavin released her.
She stumbled but didn’t fall.
“Phones?” she demanded.
“Confiscated.”
“My lawyer—”
“Won’t find you.”
Her chest tightened.
This wasn’t a bluff.
This was containment.
“You won,” she said hoarsely. “Congratulations.”
He studied her, eyes dark and unreadable.
“This was never about winning.”
“Then what?”
His hand lifted.
For a heartbeat, she thought he would touch her.
Instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
The gesture was almost gentle.
Possessive.
“You fascinate me,” he murmured.
Revulsion coursed through her.
“I hate you.”
A slow smile.
“I know.”
He stepped back.
“You’ll be comfortable here. Food will be delivered. Try not to break anything.”
“You think this will break me?”
His gaze hardened.
“No,” he said softly. “I think you’ll break yourself.”
The elevator doors opened again.
Gavin stepped inside first.
Kai followed.
The doors slid shut.
And Sylvia Bennett was left alone in a gilded cage.
For the first time since her parents died, true fear seeped into her bones.
Not because she had lost.
But because she had underestimated the monster she tried to destroy.
Upstairs, Kai poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Gavin stood nearby.
“She won’t cooperate easily,” Gavin said.
“I don’t want cooperation.”
Kai took a slow sip, eyes distant.
“I want submission.”
Outside, Los Angeles glittered under the night sky.
Inside the Voss estate, a war had ended.
And a far darker one had just begun.
There were no windows.
That was the cruelest part.
Not the locked doors. Not the cameras she could feel but couldn’t see. Not even the silence that pressed against her ears until she could hear her own pulse ticking like a countdown.
It was the absence of sky.
Sylvia sat on the edge of the bed in the underground suite and stared at the blank wall where a window should’ve been. She’d counted the hours by meals delivered and lights dimmed remotely. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Darkness.
Day four.
Or five.
She refused to ask.
They wanted her disoriented. Small. Uncertain.
She wouldn’t give them that.
The door clicked open without warning.
Her spine went rigid.
Kai walked in like he owned the air.
Black shirt. Sleeves rolled to his forearms. No tie. No jacket. Casual power. The kind that didn’t need to announce itself.
He looked at her like she was art he hadn’t decided whether to keep or destroy.
“Good morning,” he said mildly.
She didn’t answer.
He set something down on the glass coffee table.
A box.
Her stomach twisted.
“I thought you might want this.”
She didn’t move.
He opened it himself.
Inside lay a gold watch.
Her father’s watch.
The one he’d worn the day the markets crashed.
The day everything fell apart.
The day he jumped.
Her breath stopped.
“Where did you get that?” Her voice came out thin.
Kai watched her reaction with clinical interest. “It was in evidence storage after the investigation. I acquired it.”
“Acquired.” The word tasted like poison.
She stood slowly, every movement deliberate. “You have no right.”
“I have every right,” he said calmly. “Your family’s assets were liquidated. Auctioned. Purchased.”
“You murdered them.”
“I bankrupted them,” he corrected. “Your father chose the rest.”
Her hand shook as she picked up the watch.
It was heavier than she remembered.
“You set him up,” she whispered.
Kai stepped closer.
“I outmaneuvered him.”
“He trusted you.”
“And that,” Kai said softly, “was his fatal mistake.”
Her chest cracked open.
For a second—just a second—her vision blurred.
He saw it.