Chapter 2 - The Gilded Cage
The sun was setting over the sprawling Ashford estate, casting long, bloody streaks of orange and purple across the manicured lawns and the dark, restless Atlantic in the distance. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite—a bedroom bigger than my entire Queens apartment—staring out at the iron gates half a mile away.
Guards. Cameras. Motion sensors.
They weren't keeping people out. They were keeping me in.
After Elena’s explosive reaction in the study—where she had screamed that I was a gold-digging nobody attempting to trap the Ashford bloodline—Dominic had escorted her out of the mansion with cold, brutal finality. He hadn't fired her as his corporate liaison, but he had made it abundantly clear that if she ever spoke to me with disrespect again, she would find herself sleeping with the fishes in Boston Harbor.
Then he had led me upstairs, assigned me a personal maid named Mrs. Gable whose face wore the permanent, unsmiling mask of a lifetime of loyalty to the Ashford family, and told me to rest.
Rest. How was I supposed to rest when my entire reality had been hijacked by a mafia boss who looked at me like I was a rare museum artifact he intended to lock behind bulletproof glass?
The bedroom door clicked open.
I didn't turn around. I could see his reflection in the dark glass of the window—Dominic, having shed his suit jacket, wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, holding a silver tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of milk.
"Mrs. Gable tells me you haven't touched lunch," he said, his voice quiet as he crossed the room and placed the tray on a small table near the chaise lounge.
"I'm not hungry," I said flatly, keeping my eyes fixed on the distant iron gates.
"Vivien." He sighed, closing the distance between us. I felt the heat of his body before he stopped just behind my shoulder. "You need to eat. For them."
"Stop saying that!" I spun around, anger finally overriding the numbness that had held me captive for hours. "Stop acting like I'm an incubator! I am a person, Dominic! I have a name, a history, a job, a life! You can't just kidnap me, lock me in a mansion, and pretend we're playing house!"
Dominic didn't flinch. He absorbed my outburst with the terrifying patience of a predator used to waiting out his prey.
"I know who you are, Vivien," he said softly, taking a step closer. "I know you lost your parents when you were ten. I know you worked three jobs through Boston University to put yourself through school without taking a single penny of debt you couldn't pay back. I know you hate onions, you bite your nails when you're stressed, and you secretly listen to 90s pop music when you're doing payroll spreadsheets at 2 AM."
I froze. The breath caught in my throat.
"How... how do you know all that?" I whispered.
"When a man finds the only thing in his life that is entirely real, he makes it his business to know everything about her," Dominic replied, his grey eyes searching my face with an intensity that made my knees weak. "I didn't kidnap you to imprison you, Vivien. I brought you here because my world is violent, and enemies circle my throne every day. If anyone found out you were carrying my triplets, you would have been used as leverage against me within twenty-four hours. Here, behind these gates, you are safe."
"And what about my world?" I demanded, tears of frustration hot-pricked my eyes. "What about my job? My apartment? My landlord who thinks I skipped rent? What am I supposed to tell them?"
"Your apartment lease has been terminated, your belongings are already packed and stored in the East Wing, and your landlord received a check that covers his building's mortgage for the next ten years," Dominic said smoothly.
I stared at him in utter disbelief. "You didn't."
"I did." He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped my eye. The gentleness of his touch undid me faster than any threat could have. "You don't have to fight anymore, Vivien. Let me take care of you."
Before I could answer, before I could surrender to the terrifying pull of his arms, a sharp, frantic knock echoed at the bedroom door.
Marcus Webb pushed his way into the room without waiting for permission, his face pale and dripping with rain.
"Boss," Marcus panted, casting a brief, apologetic glance at me before looking at Dominic. "We have a breach. The Barzini family just intercepted one of our transport trucks on the Expressway. And they left a message."
Dominic’s entire body went rigid. The warmth in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, lethal fury.
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"What kind of message?" Dominic asked, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper.
Marcus swallowed hard. "They know about the girl, Boss. They know about the triplets. And they want a meeting... or they swear they'll hunt her down before the week is out."
