Chapter 299
JULIAN'S POV
The silence inside my childhood bedroom was suffocating.
I paced back and forth across the plush carpet, stepping from the edge of the large leather sofa to the glass balcony doors and back again.
Outside, two armed security guards in black suits stood on the wet stone terrace, their hands clasped behind their backs, watching every move I made through the reinforced glass.
Downstairs, two more guards stood outside my heavy oak bedroom door. I had tried the handle an hour ago, but the sharp, heavy click of the external lock was a constant reminder that my father meant every word he said.
I was a prisoner in my own home.
My jaw throbbed with a relentless, dull ache where my father's ring had split my skin. Every time I ran my tongue over my back teeth, I tasted a faint trace of copper. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the fiery, agonizing knot tightening inside my chest.
My phone was gone. My laptop had been confiscated. My father had pulled every plug, cut off the room's wireless network, and isolated me completely from the outside world.
He thought he was taming me. He thought a slap to the face and locked doors would make me surrender Aria to Brandon Sterling.
Aria.
I stopped pacing, pressing my palms against my temples as my breathing grew shallow and uneven. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her standing in that study, her soft eyes wide with confusion and fear as Brandon held her against his side.
She had looked at me like I was a monster. But I knew the truth. Brandon was controlling her. He had spun a web of lies around her, convincing her that she needed his protection, keeping her trapped on that fortress of an estate.
She was waiting for me to break her free. She had to be.
The quiet click of the heavy door lock echoed through the room, cutting through my thoughts.
The door swung open just enough for my mother to slip inside. She was carrying a silver tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a tall glass of water. Her face was pale, her dark eyes red-rimmed and swollen from hours of crying.
The guard outside pulled the door shut behind her, the lock sliding back into place with a definitive thud.
"Julian," my mother whispered, setting the tray down on the small coffee table near the sofa. "You need to eat something, my sweet boy. You haven't touched a thing since last night."
I stood still, staring at her with hollow eyes. "Where is Father?"
"He left for the corporate headquarters an hour ago," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she reached out to touch my arm. She winced when she saw the dark bruise blooming along my jawline.
"He is trying to manage the press. Brandon’s media outlets are broadcasting the police report on every channel. It's... it's horrible, Julian. The company stock is already dropping."
She pulled a soft silk handkerchief from her pocket and gently dabbed at the corner of my split lip.
"Your father is furious, but he's doing this to protect you," she insisted softly, her voice filled with desperate maternal rationalization. "He just wants you to stay quiet until the lawyers can settle this. You have to forget about that girl, Julian. Aria has brought nothing but ruin to this family. She turned you against us, and now she is letting that man tear your life apart."
A sharp surge of rage flickered in my stomach, but I forced myself to swallow it down. I couldn't flip out like I did last night. If I screamed, she would leave, and I would remain completely cut off.
I looked down at her, forcing my expression to soften, letting my shoulders slump into a posture of total defeat.
"You're right, Mother," I lied, keeping my voice low and broken. "I was... I wasn't thinking straight. Everything happened so fast. My head is spinning."
Eleanor’s eyes filled with sudden relief, tears glistening on her lashes. "Oh, Julian..."
"I just feel so disconnected," I murmured, rubbing my forehead with a shaky hand. "Father took everything. I don't even know what the news is saying about me. I feel like a ghost sitting in this room."
"It's better if you don't look at the news, darling—"
"Please, Mother," I cut in, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it gently. "Just let me check the financial reports. I want to know if the Vance Group is going to survive this. I want to help Father fix what I broke. Do you have an old tablet? Anything?"
Eleanor hesitated, looking nervously toward the closed oak door. "Your father gave strict orders—"
"Father doesn't have to know," I whispered, leaning closer. "You know I wouldn't leave. The guards are right outside the door and on the balcony. Just give me an hour with a screen so I don't go insane in this silence. Please."
She stared at me for a long moment, her maternal instinct completely blinding her to the desperation in my eyes. She patted my cheek gently.
"Wait here," she murmured softly. "I have my old tablet in my dressing room. It doesn't have a cellular chip, but it can connect to the house's private guest network."
Ten minutes later, the door unlocked again, and my mother slipped back into the room. She quickly pressed a thin, silver tablet into my hands, covering it with a folded cloth napkin so the guards wouldn't see.
"Be careful, Julian," she warned in a hushed tone. "If your father finds out, he will be furious with both of us."
"I won't let him know," I promised, my fingers tightening around the cold metal of the device. "Thank you, Mother."
The moment she left and the door locked shut behind her, the soft, apologetic look vanished from my face.
I rushed over to the corner of the room, sitting on the floor behind the tall wingback chair where the balcony guards couldn't see me through the glass. I powered on the tablet, my thumb flying across the glass screen to open an encrypted browser.
I didn't check the Vance Group financial reports. I didn't care about the stock prices or my father's corporate meetings.
My fingers typed one name into the search bar: Brandon.
The top search results instantly flooded the screen, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
The media was in a complete frenzy. Headline after headline detailed the high-profile break-in at the Sterling estate, complete with leaked statements from the police precinct. But what made my blood run cold was an urgent corporate press release published just thirty minutes ago.
STERLING ENTERPRISES LAUNCHES HOSTILE TAKEOVER BID FOR VANCE GROUP FOLLOWING ESTATE TRESPASS INCIDENT.
Brandon wasn't just defending himself. He was moving in for the kill. He was using my arrest to crush my father's company, to strip our family of every ounce of power, wealth, and influence we possessed. He was trying to erase us completely so that Aria would have nowhere left to run.
I scrolled down further, my eyes catching a grainy photograph taken through the tinted glass of a luxury SUV leaving the Sterling estate early this morning. Brandon was sitting in the back seat, and beside him was Aria.
She wasn't wearing handcuffs. She wasn't locked in a cell. Her head was resting lightly against his shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around her waist as they drove toward the city.
A hot, sickening knot of agony tore through my throat.
No. No, no, no.
She was acting. She had to be acting to keep him from hurting her. She was playing his game until someone came to save her.
"I won't let him keep you," I whispered to the screen, my voice raspy and unhinged. "I won't let him win."
My father thought his armed guards could hold me. He thought house arrest would force me to give up. But if Brandon was going to burn down the Vance Empire, I had nothing left to lose.
I closed the news browser and pulled up a secure, web-based messaging portal, typing in a private 16-digit access code that I had memorized months ago.
It belonged to a man named Silas, a high-end corporate fixer and underground operator whom Leonie had once mentioned during a private meeting. He didn't work for morality, and he didn't care about legal boundaries. He worked for cash, and he specialized in making impossible situations disappear.
I quickly typed out a brief, encrypted message:
I need an extraction from the Vance estate tonight. I need a clean vehicle, non-traceable weapons, and passage out of the city. Name your price.
I hit send and stared at the screen, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my chest.
Three long minutes passed in agonizing silence. Then, the screen flickered, and a single reply popped up in crisp white text:
Fifty percent upfront to a private offshore account. Extraction ready at midnight. Don't be late, Mr. Vance.
A slow, dark smile crept onto my face, turning into a quiet, raspy chuckle that echoed off the cold walls of my bedroom. I closed the tablet and tucked it securely inside my jacket.
My father thought he was keeping me safe. Brandon Sterling thought he had won. But by midnight, I was going to break out of this cage, and I was going to take Aria back once and for all.
TBC...