Celeste's POV
Thursday morning, I wake up to find my bedroom door locked from the outside.
I try the handle. Pull. Twist. Nothing.
Damien! I pound on the door. Let me out!
No response.
I call his cell. It rings once, then goes to voicemail.
Panic rises in my throat. He locked me in. Actually locked me in my own room.
An hour later, the lock clicks. Damien enters carrying a breakfast tray.
Good morning, he says calmly, like this is normal. I brought you food.
You locked me in.
For your own safety. You were planning to do something rash. He sets the tray on my desk. I need you to calm down and think clearly about what you're doing.
What I'm doing? You imprisoned me!
I'm protecting you from making a terrible mistake. He crosses his arms. The Paris job is off the table. I contacted Beaumont Luxe and told them you're no longer interested. I also cancelled your flight and froze your credit cards.
My world tilts. You can't do that
I can. I'm your guardian
I'm twenty-four years old! You're not my guardian anymore!
Then let me be clear. His voice drops. You're not leaving this penthouse until you understand that running away solves nothing. You're staying here, where you're safe, where I can take care of you.
This isn't taking care of me. This is kidnapping.
Call it what you want. He heads for the door. I'll check on you later. Eat something. Get some rest. We'll talk when you're rational.
The door closes. The lock clicks.
I'm alone.
Actually alone, locked in a room by my own brother.
I grab my phone to call for help, but realize—who would I call? Damien owns the building. The security guards work for him. The police would believe whatever story he tells them.
I'm completely powerless.
Unless I can find another way out.
I spend Thursday mapping my room like a prisoner planning escape.
The door is solid oak. No way to break through.
The windows face the street, forty floors up. No fire escape.
But there's an air vent in the bathroom. Small, but maybe large enough to crawl through.
I'm measuring it when I hear voices in the hallway. Damien's voice, and someone else. A woman.
I press my ear to the door.
—think locking her in is going to help? The woman sounds angry.
It's temporary. Until she calms down.
She's an adult, Damien. You can't just imprison her.
I'm protecting her
From what? Having a life? Making her own choices? The woman's voice rises. This is exactly what I warned her about. Your obsession is out of control.
Victoria. It's Victoria.
Get out of my home, Damien says coldly.
Not until you let her out
This doesn't concern you
It does when you're clearly having a mental breakdown. Let me talk to her.
A long pause. Then: Five minutes.
The lock clicks. The door opens.
Victoria slips inside, and the door locks behind her.
Oh, honey. She looks at me with genuine concern. Are you okay?
He locked me in. My voice cracks. He cancelled my flight, froze my cards, called my job—
I know. He told me. He thinks he's saving you. Victoria sits on my bed. But we both know that's bullshit.
How did you know I was locked in here?
I didn't. I came to warn you. I heard through the grapevine that Damien was losing it about you leaving. Wanted to make sure you were okay. She looks around the room. Clearly, you're not.
I need to get out of here.
I know. And I'm going to help you. She pulls out her phone. I have a contact—a friend who specializes in situations like this. Abusive family members, controlling partners. She can get you out safely.
But Damien controls everything. My money, my passport
Your passport is in his study, right? Top drawer of his desk?
How did you know that?
Because that's where he kept mine when we were engaged. He liked having control over whether I could travel. Victoria's expression hardens. He's done this before, Celeste. The controlling behavior, the isolation. I got out before it got this bad. But you...
I didn't see it until it was too late.
It's not too late. But you need to move fast. Tomorrow, when he lets you out—and he will, because he can't keep you locked up forever—you need to run. Don't pack. Don't prepare. Just grab what you can and go.
Go where?
My friend has a safe house. She'll get you to Paris, help you access emergency funds, get you set up. Victoria squeezes my hand. But you have to be brave. You have to actually run and not look back.
What if he finds me?
He will try. But you'll be in Europe with legal protections and people helping you. He can't just drag you back. She stands as footsteps approach. Remember: tomorrow. Run. I'll text you the address.
The door opens. Damien glares at Victoria.
Time's up.
I'm going. Victoria pauses at the door. Think about what I said, Celeste. About being strong enough to choose yourself.
After she leaves, Damien studies my face.
What did she say to you?
Nothing. Just checking if I'm okay.
You'd tell me if she suggested something crazy, right? Like running away?
I meet his eyes and lie. Of course.
He doesn't look convinced. But he nods. Good. Get some rest. Tomorrow we'll discuss your future. Together. The way it should be.
The door locks again.
But now I have a plan.
Tomorrow, I run.
And I don't stop until I'm free.
Friday morning, Damien unlocks the door at 8 AM.
I have meetings all day, he says. But security will be watching. Don't do anything stupid.
I won't, I lie.
After he leaves, I wait one hour. Then I grab my phone, my wallet, and my mother's necklace—the only things that matter.
Victoria's text has an address in Brooklyn. Car will be waiting at 10 AM. Driver will say Belle sent me. Trust no one else.
I take the service elevator to avoid the main lobby. My heart pounds so hard I think I might pass out.
The Brooklyn address is a coffee shop. A black car idles outside.
Belle sent me, the driver says through the window.
I get in without looking back.
The safe house is a small apartment in Queens. Victoria's friend, Maria, meets me there.
You have four hours before your flight, she says, handing me an envelope. Passport, temporary credit card, cash. Everything you need.
How did you get my passport?
Victoria has skills you don't want to know about. Maria smiles. Your brother will figure out you're gone soon. When he does, he'll call the police, his security team, everyone. But by then you'll be in the air.
What if he tracks my credit card?
The one I gave you is untraceable. Prepaid. Good for one month. After that, you'll need to set up your own accounts in Paris.
My phone buzzes. Text from Damien: Where are you?
Then another: Celeste. Answer me.
Another: Security says you're not in the building. Where did you go?
I turn off my phone and remove the SIM card.
Good, Maria says. Now let's get you to the airport.
At JFK, I'm paranoid. Every security guard looks like they're working for Damien. Every announcement feels like it's calling my name.
But I make it through security. To the gate. Onto the plane.
As we taxi toward the runway, I finally let myself cry.
I did it. I actually escaped.
My phone is off, but I can imagine Damien's reaction. The rage. The fear. The determination to find me.
He won't stop. I know he won't.
But at least now I have a chance.
The plane takes off, and I watch New York disappear below me.
Somewhere in that city, Damien is losing his mind. Calling everyone he knows. Pulling every string he has.
But I'm gone.
And this time, I'm not coming back.
The flight is eight hours of anxiety. Every time someone walks past my seat, I think it's security coming to drag me off the plane.
But we land in Paris without incident.
Belle meets me at arrivals, her face bright with worry and relief.
Oh my God, you actually came! She hugs me tight. I got your cryptic texts but—what happened? Why the emergency?
I don't answer. Just hold onto her and cry.
Okay, we can talk later, she says gently. Let's get you home first.
Her apartment in Le Marais is small but beautiful. Safe.
You can stay as long as you need, Belle promises. And the job is real. Beaumont Luxe wants you to start Monday.
Damien called them. Told them I wasn't interested
I know. I told them to ignore him. That you were definitely interested and would explain everything yourself. She makes me tea. Now tell me what happened. Why did you run away from your own brother?
So I tell her. Everything. The surveillance, the systematic isolation, Marcus's firing, being locked in my room.
By the end, Belle is pale.
That's not protection, she whispers. That's abuse.
I know.
Do you think he'll come here?
Before I can answer, my phone—the burner phone Maria gave me—buzzes.
Unknown number.
I answer with shaking hands. Hello?
You think Paris is far enough? Damien's voice is cold and controlled. You think I can't reach you there?
My blood turns to ice. How did you get this number?
I told you. I know everything about your life. Including when you get help from Victoria and her little network. He pauses. I'm disappointed, Celeste. After everything we've been through, you chose to betray me like this.
I didn't betray you. I escaped from you.
Same thing. His voice drops dangerously low. But here's what you don't understand. You can run to Paris, to London, to the other side of the world. It doesn't matter. You're mine. You've always been mine. And I will find you. I will bring you home. And when I do, we're going to have a very long conversation about loyalty.
Stay away from me
I'll give you one week. One week to come to your senses and come home on your own. After that... He laughs, cold and bitter. After that, I'm coming for you. And trust me, little sister—you won't like what happens when I do.
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone, my whole body trembling.
Belle sees my face. What did he say?
He's coming for me. My voice is barely a whisper. In one week, he's coming to Paris to bring me back.
Then we call the police
And tell them what? That my brother wants to visit me in Paris? They'll think I'm crazy. I put my head in my hands. He's not going to stop, Belle. He's never going to stop.
Then we make sure you're ready when he gets here. Belle's voice hardens with determination. You're not alone anymore, Celeste. You have me. And we're going to figure this out together.
But as I sit in Belle's apartment, an ocean away from New York but still feeling Damien's shadow over me, I wonder if I'll ever truly be free.
Or if his obsession will follow me for the rest of my life.
One week.
I have one week to build a new life before my brother comes to destroy it.
And I have no idea if that's enough time.