Chapter 2 - THE PRISONER BENEATH THE OCEAN
Behind his closed eyelids, Everett Kane heard every single word.
He had heard nearly everything for eight long months.
Footsteps pacing the room. Arrogant arguments over corporate shares. Lawyers discussing his assets as though he were already buried beneath six feet of dirt. Sterling promising men promotions once the “transition” was complete and the empire was legally carved up.
Everett could hear, but he could not move a single muscle. He floated beneath a black, suffocating ocean, conscious enough to recognize every betrayal, yet too deeply drugged by chemical paralysis to fight his way back to the surface.
Until Willa’s voice reached him.
There was no greed in her tone. No practiced performance or hidden agenda.
Only the quiet, undeniable dignity of one prisoner speaking to another.
The weight of her words seemed to slice through the heavy chemical fog in his brain, sending a sharp, electric spark down his spine. For the first time in eight months, his right index finger twitched imperceptibly against the wool blanket.
The following morning, Willa was escorted through the towering iron gates of the Kane estate in the back of a black sedan.
The mansion loomed above Lake Michigan, its massive stone walls bathed in cold golden light, but nobody came outside to welcome the new bride. A rigid estate manager named Mr. Crowley led her through the echoing marble foyer without offering to carry her single canvas bag.
“You will remain available to Mr. Kane,” Crowley instructed, his voice devoid of warmth. “You will not enter private offices. You will not question staff. You will not touch any medical equipment.”
“What room am I staying in?” Willa asked, stopping on the grand staircase.
May you like
Crowley paused outside a heavy double door on the second floor.
“This is where you belong.”
