Chapter 5 - The Glass Cage
My hands shook as I stared at the text message on my phone screen.
Who sent this?
I immediately tried to call the number back, but it rang twice and went straight to an automated message stating the line was no longer in service. A burner phone.
I stood on the patio, the cool breeze from Lake Washington doing little to calm the sudden burn of adrenaline in my veins. Someone knew I was here. Someone knew my name.
"Miss Bennett? This way, please."
A female staff member stood near the patio doors, holding a garment bag. She led me to a luxurious guest suite on the second floor. Inside, resting on the bed, was an elegant emerald-green silk dress that looked tailored to my exact measurements.
I changed into the dress, staring at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I looked like I belonged in Graham Holloway’s world, but inside, I had never felt more like an intruder.
At 8:00 PM sharp, I walked down the grand staircase toward the main dining hall. The long mahogany table was set with sterling silver, crystal glasses, and burning candles. Graham sat at the head of the table, looking impossibly sharp in a black tailored shirt. Mia sat to his right, wearing a pale yellow dress, looking bored and detached.
"You look stunning, Miss Bennett," Graham said, standing briefly as I was seated across from Mia.
"Thank you, Mr. Holloway," I replied quietly.
As the waiters began serving a multi-course meal, I translated the conversation between Graham and Mia. It was a tedious, painful exercise in emotional distance. Graham asked about her studies; Mia gave short, minimal answers.
Tell him I want to go to a public university next year, Mia signed to me.
I translated her words aloud. "Mia says she wants to attend a public university next fall."
Graham paused, setting his wine glass down with a sharp clink. "No. It’s too dangerous. We’ve discussed this, Mia. Private tutors will handle your higher education here."
Mia’s eyes flashed with anger. Her fingers flew into fast, aggressive signs. I am seventeen! I am not a dog you can lock in a kennel! I want a life!
I translated faithfully, keeping my tone objective despite the intense emotion behind her signs. "Mia says she deserves her independence and wants a real life."
"Independence is a luxury for people who aren't targets!" Graham snapped, his voice booming through the cavernous hall. The waiting staff froze in place.
Mia stood up so fast her chair screeched against the marble floor. She glared at her father with absolute hatred, threw her cloth napkin onto her plate, and stomped out of the room.
Silence descended over the dining hall like a heavy blanket.
Graham closed his eyes, pressing two fingers against the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted—not like a ruthless mafia Don, but like a defeated father who had run out of answers.
"You shouldn't shout at her," I said softly, breaking the silence.
Graham opened his eyes, glaring at me. "Do not tell me how to parent my child."
"She isn't acting out because she’s spoiled, Mr. Holloway. She’s acting out because she feels invisible," I said, leaning forward. "You talk at her, not with her. You build walls around her and call it protection, but all she sees is a prison."
Graham stared at me, his expression unreadable. "You know nothing about the dangers surrounding my family."
"Then teach her! Talk to her!" I argued, my voice rising with genuine frustration. "Learn her language! Really learn it! Don't just make half-hearted signs when you want to give an order. If you actually loved her, you would bridge the gap!"
The moment the words left my mouth, I froze. I had just yelled at the most dangerous crime lord in the city.
Graham stood up slowly, stepping toward me. The security guards near the doors straightened up, waiting for his command. He stopped inches from my chair, leaning down until his face was leveled with mine.
"You have a very large mouth for a woman whose entire life savings wouldn't cover the cost of the wine you're drinking," he whispered, his voice dangerously low.
"Then fire me," I challenged, refusing to back down.
Graham searched my eyes for a long, agonizing ten seconds. Then, to my absolute shock, a slow, dark smile crept onto his lips.
May you like
"I don't fire people who tell me the truth, Claire," he murmured. "They are far too rare."
Before I could process his response, the mansion's emergency alarm suddenly blared—a deafening, high-pitched siren that turned the crystal chandeliers red.
