Chapter 2

The world tilted, the sounds of the street fading into a dull roar in my ears. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I could feel the cold sweat bead on my forehead, my vision tunneling until Mark' s concerned face was the only thing I could see, but it was distorted, menacing.

"Ava? What's wrong? Are you okay?" His voice sounded far away.

I couldn't answer. I stumbled back, my legs weak, and braced myself against the rough brick wall of the prison's administration building. The rough texture scraped my palms, a small, sharp pain that barely registered through the overwhelming panic.

Mark' s face tightened with annoyance before smoothing back into a mask of worry. He grabbed my arm, his grip firm this time, pulling me toward the car. "You're not well. I'm taking you to a doctor."

He bundled me into the plush leather seat of his car, the scent of wealth and power making me feel sick. The drive was a blur of hazy colors and muffled sounds. We ended up at a private, sterile-looking clinic, all glass and white walls. As Mark guided me into a private room, a woman appeared in the doorway.

Clara. Mark's sister. My stepsister. She looked impeccable in a sharp business dress, her smile as cold and polished as the floor. "Mark, darling. I was just in the area. What happened?" Her eyes slid over to me, a flicker of satisfaction in their depths.

"She had some kind of panic attack," Mark explained, his voice tight with frustration. "Right outside the gate."

Clara walked over, her heels clicking softly on the floor. She looked down at me, her expression a perfect imitation of sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing. It must be so overwhelming. The world can be a scary place after... well, you know." Her words were honey-laced with venom, designed to make me feel small and broken. "Mark, you can't just let her wander around like this. She's fragile. She needs someone to look after her."

Mark looked from Clara to me, his brow furrowed. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the doubt she so expertly planted. He wanted to believe he was my savior, but Clara was reminding him that I was damaged goods, a problem he needed to manage. "You're right," he said finally, his gaze on me turning from concern to calculation. "She can't be on her own."

He drove me not to a hotel, not to a place of my own choosing, but to a high-rise luxury apartment I had never seen before. "You'll stay here," he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It's safe. I'll make sure you have everything you need."

I stood in the middle of the enormous, impersonal living room, feeling like a prisoner in a much fancier cage. I wanted to scream, to run, but my body was still trembling from the earlier panic. I needed to get away, to find my own space, to breathe my own air. "I want to find a job, Mark. I need to get back on my feet."

He turned from the window, the city lights glittering behind him. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "A job? Ava, be realistic. Who's going to hire you?" His voice was soft, but the words were a slap in the face. "Don't worry about that. I'll take care of you. You don't have to do anything. Just rest." He was not offering help, he was issuing a command. He was locking me down.