Ann didn't remember how she got home. The city blurred past the cab window — towers and streets she'd once known by heart but that now felt like a labyrinth built to keep her in.
Daniel's voice still echoed in her head: Because you make the monster feel human.
A confession or a curse — she couldn't tell anymore.
When the cab pulled up in front of the penthouse, the driver kept glancing at her in the mirror. Maybe he could see the way her hands trembled. Maybe he could see the storm she was carrying under her ribs.
She paid him without counting the bills. Her heels clicked across the marble lobby. The guards at the elevator didn't stop her — they didn't dare. Mrs. King needed no permission to walk back into her gilded cage.
The penthouse was too quiet when she stepped inside. The hush pressed down on her like hands around her throat.
He was waiting for her, of course. He always was.
Daniel sat in the living room, back turned to her, staring out at the dusk swallowing the city skyline. He didn't move when the door clicked shut behind her. Didn't move when her bag slipped from her numb fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud.
Only when she took a shaky step forward did he speak — his voice too calm, too soft. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Ann's throat felt raw. "You already know I did."
A dark chuckle drifted over his shoulder. "Then tell me. How did Victor spin it? Did he show you old files? Paint me as the villain who ruined your perfect little family?"
Ann's voice cracked like glass. "Did you?"
He turned then. Slowly. The mask was back on his face — the cold king, the untouchable ruler of shadows. But she could see it now, the flicker of something human trying to breathe under his calm cruelty.
Daniel rose from the couch. He crossed the room like a panther — silent, deadly. He stopped just inches from her, so close she had to tilt her chin up to keep her eyes on his.
"I did what I had to do," he said. "Your brother was reckless. He gambled with debts that would've buried you alive. Your father was already dead inside, rotting from greed and shame. I put him out of his misery."
Ann flinched. Her palm twitched at her side — the urge to hit him, to claw at the face she'd once kissed in the dark. But her fingers wouldn't move. They curled into her dress instead, knuckles white.
"You killed him," she whispered. "And you took me — what? As payment? As your prize?"
Daniel's eyes darkened, but his voice stayed soft. Dangerous. "No. I saved you. I took you away from a family that would have sold you piece by piece. I gave you my name. My world. Everything you asked for."
Ann laughed then — sharp, ugly. It cracked the air between them. "I never asked for this!"
He caught her wrist when she tried to step back. His grip was iron, but not cruel — more like a shackle, more like a reminder. "No? What were you looking for when you ran to Victor, Ann? Freedom? You think he'd give you that? He's already sold your name a hundred times. He's a ghost who'd drag you down with him just to stay breathing."
She tried to twist free. "Let me go—"
He yanked her closer, chest to chest, his breath hot on her cheek. "Go where, Ann? Where is there to run that I won't find you?"
She shoved at his chest with her free hand, but he didn't budge. Her nails dug into his shirt, catching his skin. His flinch was so small she almost missed it.
"I hate you," she breathed. It was a lie. Or maybe the cruelest truth.
His lips ghosted over her ear, his voice like smoke. "You can hate me all you want. But you're still mine."
He kissed her then — rough, desperate. Not tender like dawn on the balcony, not soft like the man who whispered sweetheart when no one was listening. This kiss was punishment. This kiss was proof that no locked door, no dead secret could break the chain between them.
Ann bit his lip — drew blood. He didn't pull away. He tasted the iron on her tongue and deepened the kiss, hands tangling in her hair. When he pulled back, his breath trembled. So did hers.
"Say it again," he rasped. "Say you hate me."
She stared at him — the monster and the man, both laid bare in the flickering city light that bled through the curtains. "I hate you."
He pressed his forehead to hers. His voice broke on a whisper. "Good. It means you're still mine."
He let her go then — sudden, like he couldn't stand the feel of her for one more heartbeat or he'd break in half. He turned away, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Ann's knees almost gave out. She grabbed the back of the couch to steady herself. Her chest heaved, lungs on fire.
Daniel's voice drifted to her like a threat and a prayer all at once. "If you want to run, Ann, run. I won't stop you."
She swallowed, throat raw. "Liar."
He laughed — sharp, tired. "Maybe. But if you do run, don't ever come back. Because if you do…" He turned his head just enough for her to see his eyes — the ice and the fire both burning there. "I won't be kind when I put you back in your cage."
He left her standing there — walked past her like she was smoke. The door to his private study shut with a soft click that sounded more final than any gunshot.
Ann sank to the floor when she couldn't hold herself up anymore. Her fingers traced her lips — still burning, still tasting him.
Run, her mind screamed. Run and never look back.
But deep in her chest, something traitorous whispered, Stay.
Because hate and love had long since blurred in the house that Daniel King built for her. And the cage had no door — only a key that fit in her own heart.