Chapter 3 - A Cage of Black Marble
The silence inside the study grew heavy enough to suffocate.
Nico looked down at the plastic bag in Marcus's hands, his expression hardening into stone.
"How many people have the security clearance code for the workshop?" Nico asked.
"Only four," Marcus answered without hesitation.
"You, me, your head driver Frank, and your stepmother Helena."
Ava felt a chill run down her spine as the names hung in the air.
This wasn't just corporate sabotage or business rivalry.
It was family poison.
"Where is Frank right now?" Nico asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"He went to the west gate to guide the police cruisers around the private driveway," Marcus said.
"Keep two men watching him," Nico ordered.
"Do not let him leave the grounds under any circumstances."
Marcus nodded once and turned toward the door.
"What about the girl?" Marcus asked, pointing a blunt finger toward Ava.
"She saved my life," Nico said.
"She stays."
Ava stood up from the leather armchair, her shoulder throbbing with every movement.
"No, Mr. Romano," Ava said firmly.
Both men turned to look at her in surprise.
"I am an hourly caterer," Ava said, clutching her torn jacket against her chest.
"I pushed you because I thought you were the man who saved my life."
"Now I know that your brother faked his death, and someone in your house is trying to murder you."
"I don't belong in this world."
"I want my paycheck, and I want to leave through that gate."
Nico walked across the room until he was standing less than an inch away from her.
He towered over her, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across her face.
"You cannot leave, Ava," he said quietly.
"You don't own me, Mr. Romano," she challenged, refusing to look down.
"The moment you screamed my brother's name in that conservatory, you became a target," Nico replied.
"Do you think the person who rigged that ceiling didn't see you?"
"Do you think they didn't watch you throw me out of the kill zone?"
"Whoever wanted me dead tonight now knows two things."
"First, you ruined their carefully planned execution."
"Second, you know a secret about Ethan that nobody outside this room has known for ten years."
Ava felt the air leave her lungs.
"If you walk out that gate tonight," Nico continued, his eyes unrelenting, "you won't survive forty-eight hours."
"They will hunt you down."
"They will take you somewhere quiet to find out how you knew Ethan Vale."
"And when they are finished with you, your body will end up at the bottom of the bay."
The cold logic of his words hit her like a physical blow.
She had spent seven years running from violence, trying to build a quiet, safe life.
And in five seconds of instinct, she had thrown herself back into the fire.
"So what am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice tight with suppressed fear.
"You stay in the north wing under my direct protection," Nico stated.
"To the rest of the staff and the family, you are no longer a caterer."
"You are my private personal assistant."
"That gives you a reason to be by my side without raising unnecessary suspicion."
"And what about Ethan?" Ava asked.
Nico’s eyes flared with raw, unresolved conflict.
"We find out why he let me believe he was dead."
"And we find out if he was the one who sent you here."
"I came here through an agency," Ava protested, offended by the implication.
"Everything in this city connects to something else, Ava," Nico said darkly.
He turned back to Marcus.
"Take her to the guest suite on the fourth floor."
"Place two armed guards at the stairwell."
"Nobody enters that corridor without my personal authorization."
Marcus nodded and gestured toward the open doorway.
"Miss Collins," Marcus said politely, though his eyes remained watchful.
Ava looked back at Nico one last time.
He was standing by the desk, staring down at the silver ring in his hand.
She followed Marcus down the dimly lit hallway of the fourth floor.
The walls were lined with oil paintings of stern men and women from centuries past.
The Romano family had ruled this coastline for three generations through shipping, iron, and ruthless power.
Marcus unlocked a heavy double door at the end of the hall.
The room inside was massive, decorated in black marble, ivory linen, and dark walnut furniture.
"There is fresh clothing in the wardrobe," Marcus said, stepping aside.
"The telephone on the nightstand connects directly to the security office."
"Do not open the windows."
"Do not wander the halls after midnight."
"Is that understood?"
"I'm a prisoner," Ava said flatly.
Marcus paused, his weathered face softening slightly.
"You're alive, Miss Collins," he said.
"In this house tonight, that is a rare privilege."
He closed the heavy door, and the click of the lock sounded through the room like a gunshot.
Ava walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, burying her face in her trembling hands.
The pain in her shoulder burned relentlessly, but the cold dread in her stomach was worse.
She looked across the room at the full-length mirror.
Her uniform was ruined.
Her face was streaked with soot and dried blood.
Seven years ago, a stranger with dark eyes had told her to run and survive.
Now, his brother had locked her inside a fortress of black marble.
Suddenly, a soft scratch echoed from the glass of the balcony door.
Ava’s head snapped up.
Outside the balcony, rain lashed against the panes.
On the frosted glass, something had been traced in the condensation from the outside.
A single symbol, barely visible against the dark storm outside.
A shield split down the middle by a jagged crack.
May you like
Ava rose to her feet, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Someone was out on the terrace.
