The crisis at Emerald City Port was like a heavy magnet, pulling almost all attention and tension from the top floors of the Amber Tower. In the command center, Alexander Kane's figure stood like a steadfast anchor, issuing cold and efficient orders continuously, attempting to bring the distant disaster under control. The air was filled with the oppressive calm brought by high-intensity pheromones, and every staff member operated like a gear in a precision machine at full capacity.
Meanwhile, in the "Silent" suite, time seemed to flow at a completely different pace. Here, only the faint glow of the tablet screen and Isabella's nearly held breath existed.
Her entire focus was absorbed by that astonishing discovery—the firewall's minuscule yet potentially crucial loophole. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, striking her ribs with a roar only she could hear. She carefully exited the browser, cleared the search history, her movements as gentle and precise as disarming a bomb. Only after completing all this did she realize her palms were already slick with a thin layer of cold sweat.
She needed verification, needed more evidence to prove this was not a coincidence.
Over the next several hours, Isabella disguised herself as a naïve audience member curious about space technology. She no longer directly searched sensitive technical terms but treated it like a carefully designed crossword puzzle, breaking apart and recombining potentially alarm-triggering keywords, mixing them with large amounts of unrelated or even childish queries.
"Name of the Mars probe?"
"Popular science about rocket fuel composition?"
"How do astronauts eat in space?"
"…What was that long algorithm name in the documentary just now? Something about filtering? Can't remember, it's really complicated."
"…Is calculating celestial orbits difficult?"
Her performance was flawless. Her aquamarine eyes sometimes showed confusion, sometimes glimmered with admiration. Her delicate fingers swiped across the screen, pausing occasionally, tilting her head in a thinking pose like a student trying to grasp profound knowledge. If anyone were monitoring her expression at that moment, they would never suspect her motives.
And the search results repeatedly confirmed her guesses. Most queries went nowhere or were guided toward Kane Group's reviewed safe content. But every few attempts, when she combined those technical fragments in a certain way, a few "stragglers" appeared—perhaps an incomplete abstract of an academic paper, an old snapshot from an open-source tech forum, or even a screenshot of a code snippet.
These fragments themselves were worthless, unable to piece together any practically useful information, let alone help her escape. Yet their mere existence was hope! It proved that the system was not omniscient; it had blind spots, a rule based on logic and keyword filtering that could be "tricked"!
Isabella's mind began operating at an unprecedented speed, analyzing the patterns of these fragments' appearances, attempting to reverse-engineer the firewall's filtering logic. It was a long-missed thrill of intellect, almost making her temporarily forget the dull pain in her ankle and the cold numbness from the patch on the back of her neck. She felt her parched thoughts being reactivated, like a rusty machine being lubricated; slow, but finally beginning to turn again.
Just as she was immersed in this dangerous "game," footsteps different from David's, slightly hurried, came from outside the suite, along with a male voice raised in pitch, carrying a certain bluster of arrogance.
"I know the big brother isn't here. What, do I need prior notice even to see the future 'sister-in-law'? Step aside!"
Isabella abruptly lifted her head from the screen, her heart tightening sharply. Future… sister-in-law? The term felt like a cold needle, piercing the faint thrill she had just built. She instinctively turned off the screen, curling up her body, cautiously glancing toward the door.
David's calm, unflinching voice rang out, carrying unquestionable authority: "Mr. Wilson, Mr. Kane has ordered that no one may disturb Miss Isabella's rest. Please do not put me in a difficult position."
"David, you're just a butler, recognize your place!" the male voice grew more displeased. "I'm just here to say hello, to show some concern for the family. Has this house already got places I'm not allowed to go?"
The quarrel approached the door. Isabella tensely gripped the sofa's cushions, her knuckles whitening. Mr. Wilson? Kane's younger brother? She had never heard of him. Alexander Kane was like a solitary emperor; his world seemed to consist only of himself and everything he needed to control, never mentioning any family.
The suite door was rudely pushed open halfway.
A young man stood in the doorway, trying to push aside David's blocking arm. He appeared about twenty-three or twenty-four years old, his hair carefully styled with gel into a slightly flamboyant look, wearing an expensive but somewhat flashy patterned suit. His face carried the spoiled, self-righteous arrogance of someone used to being indulged. His features vaguely resembled Alexander's in one or two ways, but taken together, they seemed frivolous and shallow—especially his restless eyes, flickering with a mix of curiosity, scrutiny, and an unsettling interest, fixed firmly on Isabella.
His pheromones surged simultaneously, carrying an aggressive, yet seemingly impure Alpha aura, like tainted liquor; trying to display power, it only felt pungent and unpleasant. Isabella's stomach churned, instinctively drawing back. This aura was far less strong and composed than Alexander's, yet it made her feel a direct sense of offense.
"Oh—" The young man, Lucas Wilson, let out a frivolous whistle, his gaze unabashedly sweeping Isabella curled on the sofa from head to toe, as if appraising a curious piece of merchandise. "Seems big brother really has good taste, hiding you so well. Truly a rare little beauty."
David stepped forward, skillfully using his body to block most of Lucas's view, his voice still calm but carrying an irresistible firmness: "Mr. Wilson, please leave immediately. Miss Isabella needs quiet."
"Why the rush? I haven't even introduced myself," Lucas tried to push past David, but found him immovable. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, then he turned back to Isabella, forcing what he thought was a charming smile. "Hey, little beauty, don't be afraid. I'm Lucas Wilson, Alexander's brother. I heard he finally found himself a partner, so I came to see you. Must be boring being stuck here, huh? My big brother, that guy, so dull, all he cares about is work and…"
"Mr. Wilson!" David's voice abruptly sharpened, cutting him off. "If you do not leave immediately, I will have no choice but to notify Mr. Kane and take enforcement measures."
Hearing "notify Mr. Kane," a trace of apprehension crossed Lucas's face, but he forced his composure, snorting: "Don't use big brother to scare me! I'm leaving now." He glanced at Isabella once more, his eyes playful. "Little beauty, if it gets too boring, you can come find me later. I know lots of fun places—way better than being stuck in this cage…"
David gave him no further chance for words, firmly yet politely ushering him out the door, closing the suite, and completely isolating the faint sounds of argument outside.
Silence returned inside.
Isabella, however, remained tense, her heart pounding. The appearance of Lucas Wilson was like a gush of polluted air suddenly sweeping in, shattering the fragile inner balance she had just painstakingly established. His scrutinizing gaze, flippant tone, and the words "sister-in-law" and "cage" were like cold knives, slicing through the raw reality.
She was not a guest. She was the hidden "partner," a canary in a cage, and this realization, pointed out by such a loathsome person, felt all the more humiliating.
David quickly returned, his face betraying no emotion, as if the previous incident had been an inconsequential interlude. He slightly bowed: "My deepest apologies, Miss Isabella, for startling you. Mr. Wilson will not disturb you again."
Isabella lifted her head, her turquoise eyes still harboring a lingering trace of fear and humiliation. She whispered, her voice trembling without her noticing: "He… he is Alexander's brother?"
"Yes, but you need not concern yourself with him." David's reply was concise and detached, clearly unwilling to discuss the internal affairs of the Kane family. "Mr. Kane has little to do with him."
Isabella fell silent. She lowered her head, staring at her tightly clasped hands, her knuckles white. Lucas's appearance had revealed a shadowed corner of Alexander Kane's world. The man was not an isolated existence; behind him might lie a complex, even twisted, family network. And she herself was completely placed at the center of this vast, unfamiliar, and dangerously unknown network—like a treasure to be contested or coveted, more like a lamb wandering into a predator's territory.
The excitement she had felt upon discovering the network vulnerability was now replaced by a deeper sense of powerlessness and fear. Even if she could find a way to transmit information outward, what could she do? This world, this social stratum, this place governed by Alexander Kane's rules—would it really offer her even a sliver of escape? Characters like Lucas were perhaps just the most trivial of countless malice she might face in the future.
Over the next half day, Isabella's mood visibly sank. She no longer attempted searches, merely holding the tablet and switching aimlessly through documentary channels, her gaze vacant, staring into nothingness. She ate very little for both lunch and dinner. No matter what carefully prepared food David brought, it tasted like cardboard in her mouth.
Night fell again. The crisis at Emerald City Harbor seemed to persist, and the atmosphere at the tower top remained tense.
Isabella lay on the soft, large bed, yet could not sleep. In the darkness, she opened her eyes wide, staring at the blurred outline of the ceiling. A faint ache radiated from her injured ankle, and the restraint patch at her neck felt like an eternal block of ice, constantly reminding her of her predicament. Lucas's loathsome face and flippant words involuntarily kept surfacing in her mind.
She thought of Alexander Kane, that man—powerful, cold, in control of everything. He had given her a luxurious cage, and also the tools to discover its flaws. He shielded her from the storms of the outside world, yet he himself was the greatest source of tempest. His attitude toward Lucas, reflected through David's words, was one of unabashed disdain and detachment. And toward herself? Was it a possessive claim over all things, a careful nurturing of a delicate toy, or… something more complex?
She did not dare think too deeply.
Amid her chaotic thoughts, the main door of the suite emitted a faint electronic unlocking sound.
Isabella's entire body instantly tensed, her breath catching. At this hour, David would never come—so it could only be…
Steady and familiar footsteps pressed against the expensive carpet. The sound was not loud, yet in the stillness of the deep night, it was clearly audible. Step by step, as if in rhythm with her heartbeat, moving from the living room toward the bedroom.
He had returned. Had the crisis at Emerald City been resolved, or was it merely a temporary pause?
Isabella abruptly closed her eyes, instinctively feigning sleep. Her long lashes trembled slightly from tension. She could feel the powerful yet restrained pheromones spreading gradually as he approached, carrying a hint of chill from travel, an unrelieved tension from afar, and a deep, indescribable fatigue.
The footsteps stopped beside the bed.
She could feel his gaze settling on her face, a gaze that seemed to carry tangible weight, making the skin on her face involuntarily tighten. He stood there for a long time, so long that Isabella almost could not maintain even a steady breath.
Then, she heard a very soft, almost imperceptible sigh. The emotion in that sigh was far too complex—fatigue, scrutiny, and a trace of… something elusive.
Next, she felt the mattress slightly depress on the other side. He did not lie down, only sitting on the edge of the bed.
A hand carrying the chill of the outdoors gently brushed aside a strand of hair from her forehead. The movement was not gentle, even somewhat stiff, yet the warmth of his fingertips sent a shiver through her body, nearly making her startle. She fought to maintain the illusion of sleep.
His fingertips lingered at her temple for a moment, then slowly moved down, brushing her soft cheek with extreme gentleness, as if touching a fragile antique porcelain. The cold touch starkly contrasted with her warm skin, sending a tremor through her.
"He came?" A deep, hoarse voice suddenly sounded in the darkness, breaking the silence. It was not a question, but a statement—he clearly already knew of Lucas's visit.
Isabella could no longer maintain her act. Her eyelashes trembled as she slowly opened her eyes. In the darkness, she could not see his expression clearly, only the vague contours of his face and eyes that seemed deeper than usual.
She gave a slight nod, her throat tight, unable to make a sound.
"What did he say?" Kane's voice revealed no emotion, yet the air around them seemed colder.
Isabella hesitated, then whispered: "N-nothing important… just a greeting…" She instinctively concealed the flippant remarks, unwilling to recall those unpleasant details, perhaps out of a primal, deeper fear of the man before her.
Kane was silent for a moment. His hand moved from her cheek to the side of her neck, the pad of his thumb, through the thin restraint patch, lightly caressing the fragile gland beneath.
Isabella gasped sharply, her body instantly stiffening. A surge of heat mixed with fear, shame, and a strange tingling sensation coursed down her spine, making her toes curl. This contact was more shivering-inducing than when doctors had replaced the patch, filled with an indescribable sense of control and aggression.
"Remember whose possession you are," his voice was deep and cold, like the hardest ice, striking her heart. "No one but me can disturb you, and no one can covet you. Lucas certainly cannot."
His words were like a cold decree, firmly nailing her to the label of ownership. There was no comfort, no explanation—only absolute declaration and warning.
Yet strangely, under the extreme fear and humiliation, his powerful and pure pheromones, though cold, completely dispelled the nauseating taint left by Lucas during the day, forming an absolutely exclusive, suffocating yet reassuring barrier, as if to declare that even in this cage, only he held the key.
After saying this, he withdrew his hand and stood up.
"Sleep," he dropped the two words and turned to leave the bedroom without looking back. The sound of his footsteps faded toward the living room; he apparently had no intention of staying.
Isabella lay alone on the massive bed, breathing heavily in the darkness. The spot on her neck that had been touched felt scorching, as if branded, and her whole body trembled slightly.