Clarissa and I had worked with a chilling, symbiotic precision. The agreement was a masterpiece of legal predation, a document that promised the world while meticulously constructing the bars of a gilded cage. Every clause was a double-edged sword, every contingency a trap door. Charles would be pleased. He had given me the task of forging the weapon, and I had sharpened it to a razor's edge.
My phone buzzed as I walked toward the private car that was always waiting for me in the reserved space. It was a text from Charles. Two words.
Bring it.
No pleasantries. No instructions. Just a command. He wanted the cage delivered, and he wanted me to be the one to turn the key.
