Chapter 4 Leverage

It happened before breakfast.

No warning. No polite request. No illusion of choice.

One minute I was pacing the guest room, still reeling from the accusations, and the next, a knock came. Not Lucian - a security officer in a suit too nice for the job he was about to do.

"Miss Vale," he said, not unkindly. "Mr. Thorne has requested you be escorted to the secondary wing. Permanently."

I blinked. "What?"

"Your apartment has been compromised. There was a break-in at 3 a.m. Nothing stolen. But someone left this."

He handed me a printed screenshot. My face, grainy and pixelated, plastered over a message board filled with threats and doctored photos.

TRAITOR BITCH

SHE'S IN HIS BED, LEAKING INFO. FIND HER.

The blood drained from my face.

"This is..." I cleared my throat. "You're saying someone broke in to scare me?"

"I'm saying you're a target. Mr. Thorne wants you under tighter surveillance."

Surveillance. Not protection.

Of course.

I forced a breath, biting the panic down. "I want to speak to him. Now."

The man's expression didn't change. "He's waiting downstairs."

---

He was waiting, alright.

Seated at the long steel dining table, fingers steepled under his chin like he was presiding over a court case - not the complete dismantling of my autonomy.

I didn't sit.

"You could've called," I said coldly.

"I wanted you to understand how serious this is."

"I understand just fine. Someone's targeting me, and instead of helping me handle it, you decided to quarantine me like I'm a liability."

Lucian didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just stared like he was watching a hurricane and calculating how long before the roof came off.

"This isn't personal."

"That's the problem," I snapped. "Nothing ever is with you."

He leaned back, the leather chair creaking under the shift of his weight.

"You're a threat now - not because I think you are," he said, "but because they do. And I don't let threats wander off into the city where cameras can follow them."

"And what, exactly, am I now?" I demanded. "A hostage?"

Lucian's voice didn't rise, but the chill in it did.

"You're a leverage. As long as you're with me, they won't know what you know or what you're willing to do."

It felt like being slapped.

Not because he was wrong - but because he meant it.

"You said you hired me because I was smart," I said, heart thudding. "Let me be smart, then. Let me help fix this."

"You're not ready."

"There it is again." I laughed bitterly. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? Control. You don't trust me, and you can't admit that maybe you're the one being played."

Lucian stood slowly. Purposefully.

"I trust no one," he said. "That's how I'm still standing."

"And that's why you're always alone."

We stared at each other. Me, trembling but unbowed. Him, cold and steady like a knife left in the freezer too long.

"You'll stay here," he said finally. "You'll have access to anything you need. But until I say otherwise, this is your new reality."

"No, Lucian," I said, stepping forward, fire in my throat. "This is your mistake."

And then I walked away before I said something I would regret later.

---

Later, I stood in the room they moved me into - twice the size of the guest suite, but it felt like a cell all the same. The view stretched over the city like a promise, but the windows didn't open.

Somewhere, behind one of those walls, Lucian was sitting with all the control, all the silence, and not a single ounce of regret.

And yet...

He hadn't called the police. He hadn't alerted the press. He hadn't let me go.

He'd kept me here, under his roof, under his rules - like a secret he wasn't ready to lose.

And I was starting to wonder...

Was this about leverage?

Or possession?