Emily couldn't sleep. Each time she closed her eyes, Alexander's face returned—haunted, raw for just a moment before his usual mask snapped back into place. The image gnawed at her. Who was the woman in that photograph? And why did she seem so familiar?
By seven, she had abandoned all hope of rest. She slipped into the silk robe that had appeared in her suite—another unwanted luxury—and moved to the wide windows. The city stretched below, alive with millions of people beginning their day, blissfully unaware that she was locked in a gilded cage sixty stories above them.
A knock broke her thoughts. "Miss Chen?" Maria's voice, soft and hesitant, drifted through the door along with the rattle of a cart. "Mr. Drake thought you might be hungry."
Emily opened the door. The young maid wheeled in a cart overflowing with food—fresh fruit, pastries, eggs Benedict, and coffee that smelled divine. Her stomach betrayed her with a loud growl. She had barely touched dinner the night before.
"Thank you, Maria," Emily said as she accepted the tray. "Is Mr. Drake—"
"He left at six for his meetings," Maria interrupted gently. She was already moving around the room, fussing with details that needed no fixing. "He said your schedule for today would be delivered shortly."
Schedule. As though she were an employee. Or perhaps a prisoner. In truth, she was both.
When Maria left, Emily ate in silence, staring out at the city. The diamond bracelet on her wrist caught the sunlight and scattered rainbows across the tablecloth. Beautiful. Binding. Exactly as Alexander intended.
Another knock startled her.
"Miss Chen? Delivery for you."
She opened the door, expecting another staff member. Instead, she froze. A young man stood there, familiar in a way that made her breath hitch. He had Alexander's dark hair and sharp jawline, but his eyes—warm amber, full of humor and mischief—were nothing like his brother's.
"You must be Emily," he said with an easy smile, charming and disarming all at once. "I'm Julian. Alexander's much better-looking younger brother."
Her pulse quickened. She wasn't supposed to speak to men without Alexander's permission. But this was family. That had to be different.
"I… Mr. Drake didn't mention you'd be stopping by."
Julian's grin deepened. "Alex doesn't mention a lot of things. May I come in? I brought coffee." He lifted two steaming cups from what looked like a boutique café. "The real stuff. Not hotel swill."
Every instinct screamed at her to shut the door, to call Alexander immediately. Yet something in Julian's eyes—kindness, warmth, a sense of safety—made her step aside.
"Thanks," he said, handing her a cup. "Though honestly, you look like you could use something stronger than caffeine."
She took a sip. The coffee was exquisite—so rich and complex that her earlier cup tasted like dishwater in comparison. "How did you know I was here?"
"Alex isn't exactly subtle when he's… acquired someone new." Julian settled on the sofa with practiced ease. "The staff has been buzzing about the mysterious woman in the emerald suite. Plus, he's doubled security on this floor."
Emily lowered herself into a chair across from him, painfully aware that Alexander's cameras were recording everything. "He's your brother."
"Unfortunately." Julian's smile carried more regret than humor. "We're not close. Haven't been for years."
"Why not?"
He studied her for a long moment. His gaze was unsettling, as if he could see past the front she had worked so hard to build. "We have different ideas about people. About how they should be treated. Especially people like you—beautiful, vulnerable, caught in his web when you don't deserve to be."
The words struck like a blow. Emily's voice faltered. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" Julian leaned forward, his tone gentle but unyielding. "Emily, you're not the first woman he's kept in this suite. And you won't be the last."
Her hands shook as she set down the cup. Porcelain clinked against the saucer. "That's not… we're not…"
"You're not what? Not lovers? Not his prisoner? Not under his control?" Julian's words cut deep, though his voice stayed kind. "Tell me, Emily—when was the last time you decided anything about your own life?"
Emily opened her mouth to argue, then closed it.
When had she last made a choice that was truly her own? Before the gala? Before Alexander had dismantled her life piece by piece and stepped in as her so-called salvation?
"He told you it was temporary, didn't he?" Julian pressed. "One month, maybe two. Enough money to start over anywhere you wanted."
Emily's blood turned cold. "How do you—"
"Because it's always the same story." Julian's eyes carried a sadness that seemed too heavy for someone so young. "My brother collects beautiful things—art, cars, businesses… people. He surrounds himself with perfection, then cages it. Possesses it completely. But collectors don't give away their most prized pieces. Not willingly."
"You're wrong," Emily whispered. The words came out brittle. Even as she spoke them, she heard the tremor of doubt in her voice.
Julian slipped out his phone, thumb moving across the screen. A moment later, he turned it toward her.
Emily's breath hitched. Photo after photo—women, each stunning in her own way. Different hair, different smiles, but the same air of being carefully dressed, adorned, displayed. Each one marked by Alexander's ownership.
"Sophia," Julian said softly. "Three years ago. She was a struggling artist. Alex promised to fund her career in exchange for six months of… companionship. She's still here, Emily. Still in this tower. Still waiting for a freedom that isn't coming."
Emily shook her head, denial rising fast. "That's not possible. Alexander wouldn't—"
"Wouldn't what?" Julian cut in gently. "Lie? Manipulate someone desperate enough to believe him? Emily, my brother is many things. Honest isn't one of them."
Her voice shrank to a whisper. "Why are you telling me this?"
Julian leaned back, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "Because someone should have warned Sophia. Or Isabella. Or Katherine." His gaze locked on hers, and for a moment the sadness there was unbearable. "Because you remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who deserved better."
Emily's mind darted to the photograph in Alexander's office—the way his hands had trembled as he held it. "The woman in the picture," she breathed.
Julian went very still. "What picture?"
"Last night. He was holding an old photo. A woman who looked…" Emily's words faltered as realization slammed into her. "She looked like me."
Julian closed his eyes. When he opened them, pain filled them. "Her name was Lily. She was everything good—kind, generous, fearless enough to stand up to Alex."
"What happened to her?"
"She loved him," Julian said flatly. "And he destroyed her for it."
Emily's chest tightened, the room tilting. "I don't understand."
"Alex doesn't know love without possession. He can't see the line between protecting someone and caging them. Lily tried to leave once, to reclaim herself. He made sure she couldn't." His voice cracked, then steadied. "She died in a car accident. Right after she'd packed her bags and bought a ticket to London. Too convenient to be chance."
Emily's hand flew to her mouth. "You think Alexander—"
"I think my brother never learned that love sometimes means letting go." Julian pushed up from the sofa, pacing to the window. "And I think he sees Lily every time he looks at you."
The thought hit Emily like a tidal wave. She wasn't just a mistress. She was a replacement. A shadow of someone who had died trying to escape.
Julian lifted his gaze to one of the hidden cameras. "He's watching us now, you know. Probably running background checks on me as we speak, trying to figure out my angle."
Emily followed his eyes to the lens. She imagined Alexander on the other side, face tight with rage. Or was it fear? Did he know his brother was tearing down the walls of lies he'd built?
Julian moved toward the door. "I have to go. But remember this, Emily. Whatever Alex promised you—whatever threats he's used—none of it is worth your life."
His hand lingered on the handle. "And if the day comes when you're ready to find out what freedom feels like, you'll need someone Alex can't control."
He brushed past her, so casually she almost missed it. The door shut behind him, leaving the suite silent again. Only then did Emily feel the weight in her pocket.
Her fingers curled around it. Small. Solid. A phone, but not one Alexander could trace. A burner.
Julian had given her a lifeline.
The question was whether she had the courage to use it.