Chapter 3: A Cage with Golden Bars
1123 Words
The Lancaster estate buzzed with unusual activity. Servants darted through corridors with ironed linens and floral arrangements, the clatter of porcelain and glass echoing through the halls. Maids whispered, eyes wide, while butlers stood stiffer than usual, clearly instructed not to speak out of turn.
The reason? The engagement of Aria Lancaster to Darius Thorne had just been made public.
Aria didn’t find out from her family.
She found out from the morning paper.
She sat in the garden, curled on her usual wrought iron bench, thumbing through the pages of The Daily Heritage, her habitual escape from the cold formality of her home. The headline nearly made her drop her tea.
LANCASTER HEIRESS TO WED ELUSIVE BILLIONAIRE DARIUS THORNE
There was a photo of her—taken from a distance, likely at one of those dreadful charity events Helena dragged her to—and beside it, the familiar shadowed figure of Darius Thorne. Even in the newsprint, he looked more real than she did.
She stared at the words, her vision swimming.
Heir to what? A family that barely acknowledged her? A home where her name was rarely spoken unless it was to scold or ridicule?
Still clutching the paper, she stormed into the house.
Marvin was at the bottom of the staircase, lounging in a velvet armchair, scrolling on his phone like a bored prince. He looked up when she approached and snorted.
"Ah, the bride of the century. I hope Mr. Thorne enjoys dull conversations and low-maintenance expectations."
Aria clenched the newspaper. "Why wasn’t I told?"
Marvin smirked, rising slowly. "Because no one needed your opinion. You’re lucky someone even wants you."
Before she could retort, Mcwell’s voice boomed from his study.
"Aria, my office. Now."
She moved toward the door like a ghost summoned by force. Inside, the room smelled of cigar smoke and leather. Mcwell sat behind his grand mahogany desk, tapping a pen against a thick document folder.
Helena stood near the window, arms crossed, expression unreadable under her heavy makeup.
"You’ve embarrassed us," Mcwell said flatly.
Aria blinked. "How?"
"By not being ready. The announcement was made this morning. We expect your cooperation."
"I found out in the paper."
"And yet, you’re still here. That’s something."
Aria bit her lip to keep from screaming. "Why now? Why this sudden—"
"Because," Helena cut in, her voice like ice against glass, "Darius Thorne is not a man to be kept waiting."
Mcwell stood, walking around the desk. "Do you think we care about your feelings in this? This marriage isn’t about romance or preference. It’s about strategy. Darius Thorne is powerful. He can secure our future."
He leaned closer, his voice a low warning. "And if you think for one moment that you have a choice in this matter, remember: we’ve never asked before. We’re not starting now."
---
Darius read the headlines over breakfast, eyes narrowed.
Vincent stood nearby, holding a tablet with updates. "It’s all over the media. They rushed it out before we could finalize private terms."
Darius set the paper down carefully, lips tightening. "Typical Lancaster move."
"They’re trying to lock it in before you change your mind."
"I don’t change my mind."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Still. It’s an aggressive tactic."
Darius sipped his coffee slowly. "They think I’ll be pressured by public opinion."
"Will you?"
A long pause.
"No."
His voice held steel. He wasn’t worried about the attention. What concerned him was Aria. She hadn’t been told. He could feel it in the cold calculation of her family’s move.
He pushed back his chair.
"Arrange a meeting. I want to speak with her. Privately."
Vincent tilted his head. "First date before the wedding. How modern."
Darius gave him a dark look. "Do it."
---
Back in her room, Aria sat by the vanity she rarely used. The walls around her felt tighter than usual, like they were closing in.
Her reflection stared back—pale, lips pinched, eyes too tired for a nineteen-year-old. She looked like a girl pretending to be a ghost.
A knock came.
Marvin’s voice sneered from the other side. "Your fiancé’s assistant is downstairs. Apparently Mr. Thorne wants to meet you. Alone. Try not to embarrass us."
She waited until she heard his footsteps retreat, then slowly stood.
A meeting. With him.
Was this another trap?
No. If it was, they wouldn’t have warned her.
She walked to the mirror one last time, brushed her hair back, and left the room.
---
The car was sleek, black, and waiting. Vincent stood beside it, polite but distant.
"Miss Lancaster. Mr. Thorne is expecting you."
No further explanation. No questions.
The city blurred past her as they drove, a thousand lights and shadows rushing by like thoughts too fast to hold.
When they stopped, it wasn’t at an office or a restaurant. It was a private rooftop garden, high above the city.
He was waiting.
Darius Thorne.
He stood by a marble fountain, dressed in a charcoal suit. The first thing she noticed was that he looked at her—not through her, not around her—but at her, like she was something worth seeing.
He didn’t smile. But he didn’t need to.
"Aria," he said simply.
She hesitated. "Mr. Thorne."
"Darius."
She blinked. He gestured for her to join him on a bench. She did, slowly, unsure what to expect.
"I assume you weren’t told about the announcement," he said.
She let out a dry laugh. "Told? I was headlined."
A faint glint of amusement in his eyes. "That’s not how I intended it."
"But you didn’t stop it."
"I couldn’t, not without making a spectacle."
She turned to face him. "Why me?"
"Because I saw you. Years ago. And you haven’t left my mind since."
She stiffened.
He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t demand or plead.
"You don’t have to love me, Aria. But know this: I won’t hurt you. Not like they do. I will protect what’s mine. And you are mine, whether you choose it or not."
She should have run. Should have protested.
But instead, she asked, voice low, "And if I don’t want to be anyone’s?"
He met her gaze evenly.
"Then I’ll convince you to be mine anyway. Not by force. By choice."
She looked away, but not before he saw the tiniest crack in her mask.
Not fear.
Curiosity.
And something else.
Hope.
---
That night, Aria returned to her room with a storm swirling inside her. For the first time in years, she felt seen. Not adored, not pitied—but seen.
And Darius Thorne was far from what she expected.
He was dangerous.
But maybe, just maybe, he was dangerous for her.
And not against her.
- Writer
