Chapter 7: The Hidden Truth–1
[Sarah]
The haunting images from Theodore’s computer screen seemed burned into my retinas as I hurried through the darkening hallways of the Pierce penthouse.
Mrs. Thompson’s urgent steps echoing down the marble corridor snapped me from my thoughts. Her usually composed features were tight with worry. “Miss Sarah, the security
system-”
A mechanical whir cut through her warning. The elevator doors opened to reveal Theodore, his wheelchair perfectly positioned to block any escape route. His face was ashen, knuckles white against the armrests. Behind him, two security team members studied their tablets with carefully blank expressions.
“Sir,” Mrs. Thompson began, “I can explain-”
“Leave us.” Theodore’s voice could have frozen Hell itself. The security team retreated immediately, but Mrs. Thompson hesitated, her eyes darting to me with unmistakable
concern.
“Now.” Theodore didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. Even from his wheelchair, his
presence filled the corridor with a dangerous energy that made my skin prickle.
I watched Mrs. Thompson’s reluctant departure, my heart hammering against my ribs. The corridor’s elegant sconces cast Theodore’s face in harsh shadows, highlighting the aristocratic angles that had once seemed peaceful in his coma. Now they were carved from granite, his grey eyes holding the same ruthless calculation that had destroyed Nathan’s career. Yet beneath his cold fury, something else burned – something that made my
breath catch in my throat.
“The breach was detected at 4:47 PM.” His words sliced through the silence. “My private office. My personal computer.” Each phrase fell like an executioner’s ax. His fingers gripped the wheelchair’s armrests until his knuckles went white. “Would you care to
explain?”
“I…” My voice faltered under his intense gaze. The air between us felt charged with electricity. “I didn’t mean to pry,” I whispered.
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Chapter 7: The Hidden Truth–1
“Nothing else to say?” His fingers tapped once against his wheelchair’s control panel. Throughout the penthouse, electronic locks engaged with synchronized clicks, the sound making me flinch. “Then allow me to be clear about the consequences.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A cascade of notifications: blocked access, canceled cards, restricted movements. Each one felt like another bar in my cage.
“You will remain in the guest wing.” Theodore’s voice was terrifyingly calm, but his eyes blazed with an intensity that made my heart race. “Your meals will be delivered at set times. You will not leave without explicit permission and escort.”
“You’re imprisoning me?” Anger finally broke through my fear, hot tears stinging my eyes. “In a gilded cage like some kind of pet?” I took a step toward him, fists clenched. “Is this what you do to everyone who gets too close? Lock them away before they can see the real Theodore Pierce?”
“I’m protecting what’s mine.” His eyes flashed dangerously as he wheeled closer, until we were barely inches apart. The scent of his cologne – expensive and masculine – made my head spin. “Since you’ve demonstrated you can’t be trusted with basic privacy.”
The words struck deeper than they should have, piercing through my defenses like shards of ice. I wasn’t his – how dare he claim ownership over me? This was a marriage of corporate convenience, a business arrangement made while he lay unconscious!
“I don’t belong to you,” I whispered, but the words felt hollow even to my own ears. My hands trembled with a mixture of rage and something else I refused to name. “You can’t just…”
No one answered.
The first day of confinement, I caught my reflection in the guest wing’s floor–to–ceiling windows. My sweatshirt hung looser than usual, dark circles shadowing my eyes. The pristine white walls seemed to close in, making my already pale complexion appear almost ghostly.
“You need to eat something, Miss Sarah,” Mrs. Thompson murmured, setting down a breakfast tray. “You’ve barely touched your meals.”
I turned from the window, attempting a smile that felt brittle. “I’m not very hungry.”
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Chapter 7: The Hidden Truth–1
By the second day, restlessness clawed at my sanity. I paced my gilded prison like a caged animal, my reflection haunting me in every polished surface. My stomach churned with a mixture of morning sickness and despair.
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