Chapter 6: Prison Break and Reckoning

He became fiercely protective, always a step behind me, always making sure I was safe. It was suffocating. And sweet.

Mason stood up and patted my head. I pursed my lips, met his gaze, and said, “You owe me.”

He just looked at me, then sighed. Like he was giving up.

I hid out at Mason’s place for a few days and lived comfortably.

I spent my days painting, my nights curled up on the couch watching old movies. For a little while, I almost forgot the world outside existed.

I kept my phone off. No way was I letting Nathaniel blow it up and track me.

I kept it powered off, buried in my bag. Every time I heard a car outside, my heart leapt into my throat.

Over breakfast, I stared at my phone in a daze. Above me, Mason’s deep voice rumbled: “If Nathaniel really didn’t want you to leave, do you think you’d have made it out of the Brooks mansion? Turn on your phone and see. I bet he hasn’t called you once.”

He was right, and I hated that he was right. I hesitated, thumb hovering over the power button.

I glared at Mason, pressed the power button, and my eyes widened.

The screen lit up, and my heart skipped a beat. Notifications rolled in, but none from Nathaniel.

Yep—no calls from Nathaniel.

Not a single missed call, not even a text. Relief and disappointment tangled inside me.

The one who’d bombarded me with calls was someone else—Mason’s sister, Mia.

She’d left a dozen voicemails, each more frantic than the last. I winced, realizing how much trouble I was in.

Mason glanced at my phone, a rare smile flickering in his usually cold eyes. He pressed down on my shoulder, leaned close to my ear, and I could smell the coffee on his breath. He let out a low laugh, “You’re in trouble.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time I’d seen him look genuinely amused in weeks.

I frowned. “Why am I in trouble? Just because I missed a few calls…”

I trailed off as realization dawned. My heart skipped a beat.

Oh, hell.

I looked at the date on my phone and froze. Crap. Today was Mia’s birthday.

Her parties made the society pages every year.

If I missed her birthday because I didn’t turn on my phone, she’d probably storm the Brooks house and kill Nathaniel.

I could just see it—Mia in her Louboutins, ready to kick down the door. The thought almost made me laugh.

Mason let go, sat across from me with his coffee, raised his eyebrows as he watched me frantically apologize to Mia on the phone, and shook his head with a silent smile.

He sipped his coffee, watching me type like I was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all week.

Most of the rich kids I met after being adopted had their bad habits. They liked to judge people by status. Even though they feared the Brooks family’s power, they still looked down on me as the adopted daughter and sometimes mocked me openly or behind my back.

I’d learned to tune out the whispers, the side-eyes. Still, some days it stung.

But Mia never did. She was always kind and never treated me differently because I was adopted.

She’d invited me to every sleepover, every dinner, even when the others rolled their eyes. She made me feel like I actually belonged.

She was the kind of friend who’d hold your hair back when you puked, who’d show up with Ben & Jerry’s and a bad movie when life sucked.

Mia’s birthday party was at the Harper family’s private estate.

The place was sprawling—white columns, manicured lawns, the whole Hamptons look. The kind of house you see in movies, with a driveway that goes on forever.

I stood on the terrace. A few expensive birds I couldn’t name perched on the railing, chirping. I held a cigarette between my fingers, thinking up ways to explain my absence to Mia.

The night air was cool, the sky washed with city lights. I took a drag, smoke curling around my fingers, grounding me.

It was quiet. The mix of fresh air and cigarette smoke made everything else seem far away.

For a second, I let myself believe I was just another guest, not a girl on the run.

I flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it under my shoe.

The embers died out beneath my shoe, a small act of defiance in a world I couldn’t control. Small victories.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, getting closer.

I tensed, recognizing the rhythm instantly. My heart hammered.

I froze. That sound was too familiar. In an instant, I felt a chill run through me, my hair standing on end.

It was the sound of trouble—Nathaniel’s polished shoes on marble.

The footsteps stopped. My heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. I turned stiffly. Nathaniel stood not far behind me, one hand in his pocket, a faint smile on his lips, his deep eyes unreadable.

He looked so calm, so in control. I hated him for it. He always acted like nothing could touch him. It made me sick.

He squinted at me, giving me time to react.

His gaze was cool, assessing, like he was waiting to see what I’d do next.

He dropped his smile and walked toward me, his calculated air making my skin crawl.

Every step he took made my skin crawl. I fought the urge to back away.

Nathaniel grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up. He chuckled, “Ellie, you’re clever. You know Mason can protect you, but my patience is limited. I won’t let you stay in another man’s house and jerk me around.”

His grip was firm, almost painful. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.

The way he looked at me made my skin crawl, an icy chill running from my bones to my skin.

I shivered, goosebumps rising on my arms. I wanted to scream, but the words stuck in my throat.