Chapter 15 - THE PRISONER
The ride seemed to last forever.
I sat pressed against the far door, as far from Julian as I could get. He did not speak again. He simply watched me, his eyes cold and calculating, measuring, assessing.
When we reached the Sanctuary, the gates swung open before us. The car pulled up before the massive stone entrance. Two guards stood waiting.
Julian stepped out. Then he reached back inside.
“Come, Mia.”
I hesitated. Then I stepped out on my own.
He led me inside. Through grand hallways lined with portraits. Past rooms filled with furniture no one ever used. Down a long flight of stairs into the basement. And finally—into a room.
It was beautiful. That was the worst part.
A large bedroom with soft carpet, silk curtains, a wardrobe filled with clothes, and a shelf lined with books. A bathroom adjoined it. A window looked out over a stone courtyard. But the window had iron bars. And the door locked from the outside.
Julian closed the door behind him. He turned the key and slipped it into his pocket.
“Your new home,” he said. “For now.”
“Why am I here?” I asked.
“Because you are the heir to the Mercer fortune. And you need to be raised properly. Away from influence. Away from liars.” He walked to the window. “Adrian Hale is not your father. He is a thief who stole your mother’s life. And Elizabeth… she is a traitor who belongs in prison.”
“You killed Vanessa,” I said.
Julian did not flinch. “Vanessa made a choice. She chose the wrong side.” He turned back to me. “You will make the right choice, Mia. You will learn to obey. You will learn to respect your family. And in time… you will learn to love me.”
“Never.”
Julian’s face hardened. “We shall see. You will remain here until you understand your place. No visitors. No contact with the outside world. Until you are ready to sign.”
“Sign what?”
“Documents. Returning everything to its rightful owner. Me.” He walked to the door. “When you sign… you will be allowed to live comfortably. Refuse… and you will remain here. Alone. Forever.”
He unlocked the door and stepped out. I heard the lock click.
I was alone.
I walked to the window. The bars were thick and solid. The courtyard below was empty and surrounded by high walls. No one could see me. No one could hear me.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor.
Adrian. Elizabeth. Thorne. They had tried. They had come so close. And then it had all fallen apart. Thorne’s betrayal had handed me right back to Julian.
But then… Thorne had not gotten the page.
I smiled slowly.
Julian thought he had won. He thought he held all the cards. But he was wrong.
The page was safe. Tucked inside the lining of my shoe. Where no one would think to look. Where Julian had not thought to search.
I pulled off my shoe. Carefully, I peeled back the inner lining. There it was—the torn page, folded small and pressed flat.
I held it in my palm.
*Names. Dates. Crimes.*
Julian needed this page more than anything. Without it… his accomplices were exposed. With it… he could destroy every witness, rewrite history, and claim everything.
But he did not have it. And I did.
I folded it carefully and tucked it back inside my shoe. Then I stood up and walked to the window.
He thought he had locked me away. He thought he had silenced me. But he had made one fatal mistake.
He had forgotten that I was Victoria’s daughter. And Elizabeth’s niece. And Adrian’s daughter in every way that truly mattered.
I would not break. I would not sign. And I would not let him win.
Days passed. Then weeks.
Julian visited me every morning. He would place the documents on the table. He would hand me a pen. And he would wait.
Every day… I refused.
At first, he was patient. Reasonable. He explained why the documents were necessary. Why Adrian was dangerous. Why Elizabeth was a criminal.
When I still refused… he grew cold. Distant. He spoke less. He threatened. He told me Adrian had been arrested. That Elizabeth was dead. That no one was coming.
I did not believe him. If Elizabeth were dead… he would have shown me proof. If Adrian were in prison… he would have used it to break me.
He was lying. Which meant they were still free. They were still fighting. And they were coming.
One evening, he came in angrier than usual. He slammed the papers onto the table.
“Sign them, Mia.”
“No.”
“You are making this very difficult.”
“I will not sign what belongs to me.”
Julian gripped the edge of the table. “You are six years old. You cannot own anything. Everything you think is yours… was stolen by my brother. And now… it returns to me.”
“Then prove it,” I said. “In court. With the page.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “So you have it.”
I said nothing.
He stepped closer. “Give it to me. And I will be merciful.”
“Merciful like you were to Vanessa? To my parents? To my mother?”
Julian flinched as if struck. Then his face twisted into something dark and ugly.
“Very well.” He stepped back. “If you will not give it to me… I will wait. I have time. And you have nothing but time.”
He walked to the door. Before leaving, he paused.
“By the way… Thorne sends his regards.”
He slipped out and locked the door.
I sat frozen on the bed.
Thorne.
He had betrayed us once. What if he betrayed us again? What if he told Julian everything? What if he told him about the page? About the names? About the plan?
I gripped my shoe.
If Thorne told Julian… then Elizabeth and Adrian were walking into a trap. And they had no idea.
I had to warn them. But how? I was locked in a basement room with barred windows and a guard outside the door.
I walked to the door and pressed my ear against the wood. Footsteps paced back and forth outside. Slow. Heavy. Repetitive.
The guard changed every two hours. I had counted.
And every evening at dusk… the guard sat in the chair just outside the door. And he fell asleep.
I had noticed it the third day. He would yawn. Lean back. Close his eyes. And sleep for exactly twenty minutes.
That was my only chance.
But even if I got past him… where would I go? The Sanctuary was surrounded by guards. High walls. No way out.
May you like
Unless… there was another way.
I walked to the bookshelf. I pulled out the books one by one. Most were new. Untouched. But one—an old leather-bound volume of poetry—had a cracked spine and a loose
