Chapter 564 - 160 Bird in Cage

Chapter 564: Chapter 160 Bird in Cage

Lila’s POV

Sleep remained a distant hope throughout the endless night. Even if exhaustion had claimed me, Connor’s thunderous snoring would have shattered any attempt at rest. The casino magnate’s breathing sounded like machinery grinding in one of his underground gambling dens. When dawn finally broke through the reinforced windows of his private safe house, I sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, my spine turned deliberately away from him.

"Awake already, princess? You’re quite the early riser," he commented with that smugness typical of men who believed they controlled everything in their orbit.

I clenched my jaw to prevent myself from snapping back that sleeping through his earthquake of noise would require sedatives strong enough to fell a racehorse. This man, with his crude mannerisms disguised beneath expensive suits, represented everything vile about the families that ruled from the shadows.

"Connor, release me immediately. No matter what Claire promises you, I will never consent to this marriage. Never." I rose and confronted him directly, summoning every ounce of defiance my Sullivan bloodline had instilled in me.

His laughter carried the confidence of someone accustomed to breaking resistance through brutality and intimidation. "Such fire in those pretty eyes! Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll tame that spirit soon enough." His arrogance made me want to drive something sharp through his skull. "Listen carefully, Lila. I’ve been doing business with Claire for many years through the art procurement networks..."

"Yes, as her lover! You certainly know her intimately through those money laundering operations," I interrupted, surprising myself with my boldness in addressing the sordid reality of their relationship.

"So you’re aware of our arrangement." He sighed without bothering to deny the accusation. "That partnership served its purpose. But here’s what matters—when Claire wants something in this organization, she acquires it. Always. The Sullivan family doesn’t accept failure."

"She cannot force me into this alliance," I declared, lifting my chin with the pride that came from my true heritage, not the fabricated bonds she’d constructed.

"We shall see about that. Now come, let’s have breakfast, then I’ll contact Claire about your arrival." He gestured toward the door, but I remained planted where I stood. "Would you prefer I carry you downstairs?"

I darted past him before his hands could make contact. The mere thought of his touch revolted me more than the stench of the illegal cigarettes he chain-smoked. True to his word, immediately after a breakfast of imported delicacies that felt like my last meal, he placed the call to my captor.

"Claire! The bird is secured in the cage," he announced with satisfaction dripping from every word. "Lila is here at the compound. No, I couldn’t bring her to your penthouse." Even from across the room, I could hear her shrieking through the encrypted phone. "Because Daniel’s surveillance teams were watching your building. She’s at our old meeting location." More screaming followed from her end. "This is how the situation will proceed because I’m the one calling the shots! She remains here under my protection. My security teams are monitoring every exit. Exercise caution when you arrive. And remember our agreement—don’t damage the merchandise!"

I almost laughed bitterly at his feigned concern for my welfare, as if I were valuable cargo rather than a human being. He terminated the call and fixed his cold stare on me.

"I have business to attend to at the casino. Make yourself comfortable in this safe house, but don’t entertain thoughts of escape. My men have orders to watch you. Your mother will arrive soon."

"You understand what she wants beyond this forced marriage arrangement, don’t you?" I asked, certain he was fully aware of the larger financial conspiracy.

"I have no interest in the details, but she won’t seriously harm you," he replied with disturbing casualness.

I couldn’t suppress my bitter laughter. "You don’t know Claire at all." I no longer referred to her by any maternal title—she had forfeited that privilege despite the biological deception she’d maintained for years. "She’ll beat me, whip me, torture me until my skin is raw, then continue the assault until she extracts what she wants. And since I cannot provide access to what she demands, she’ll beat me until there’s nothing left."

"What could she possibly want so desperately from a young woman?" he asked, seemingly genuinely puzzled by the depths of her obsession.

"My inheritance—the trust fund Beckett established with offshore protections. But it’s completely untouchable by anyone, including her," I said, turning away and settling onto the leather sofa that probably cost more than most people’s annual income.

The reinforced door slammed as he departed for his criminal enterprises. Moments later, it opened again to admit his lieutenant—the same driver who had transported me to this prison last night—who positioned himself like a guard by the entrance. Any lingering hope of escape evaporated instantly.

Lost in contemplation of my grim circumstances, I failed to notice Claire’s arrival until her voice slithered into my consciousness like poison.

"Hello, my precious little girl!" Her tone carried that unhinged delight that always preceded sessions of calculated cruelty—she fed on fear and suffering like others consumed fine wine.

I remained motionless, watching as she brandished a black legal portfolio and the familiar leather whip that had carved permanent scars across my skin during countless previous encounters.

"Look what I retrieved from the penthouse safe. Perhaps you’ve missed our special bonding sessions?" She dangled the instrument of torture before my eyes like a beloved pet.

My silence seemed to energize her sadistic pleasure. "Not speaking today? Excellent—I won’t have to endure your pathetic whimpering." She settled into the armchair across from me with the satisfied air of a predator cornering wounded prey. "Lila, Lila... I warned you that I’d bring you back into the family fold. You should understand by now that I always acquire what I desire within our organization."

Her laughter—that bone-chilling sound that preceded agony—froze the blood in my veins. During the sleepless night and the hours spent on this expensive prison furniture, I had reached a state of resigned acceptance. There was no escape from this compound, and she could never access my inheritance thanks to Beckett’s sophisticated financial protections. I would endure her brutality, refuse to marry Connor, and eventually, she would beat me to death in her rage. I had made peace with this inevitable conclusion.

"Nothing to contribute to our conversation?" she prodded mockingly. I simply stared back, understanding that words had become meaningless currency in this transaction. "Perfect! Don’t waste your breath! I’ll handle all the talking. Here’s our new arrangement—I’ve prepared legal documents for your signature, transferring all assets and properties to me and granting complete power of attorney over your offshore accounts. Since you’re marrying Connor anyway, you won’t require independent wealth or property. Your husband’s casino empire will provide everything you need."

She placed the legal portfolio on the coffee table with a smile that could have frozen hell itself. I barely glanced at the papers, watching this scene unfold as if I were merely observing a play rather than participating in my own destruction.

"Sign them," she commanded, her voice dropping to that dangerous whisper that always preceded violence.

I didn’t move. Didn’t even acknowledge her demand.

The first blow came without warning—her palm cracking across my cheek with enough force to snap my head sideways. The second followed immediately, splitting my lip against my teeth. Blood trickled down my chin as I slowly turned back to face her, my expression unchanged.

"Sign the papers, Lila." The whip unfurled in her other hand like a serpent preparing to strike.

Still, I said nothing. Did nothing.

The leather bit into my shoulder through my thin shirt, the familiar burning sensation spreading across my skin. Then again across my back. And again. Each strike precisely calculated to cause maximum pain without permanent disfigurement—she’d had years to perfect her technique.

Tears leaked from my eyes, not from the physical pain but from the crushing weight of helplessness. Yet I remained silent, my hands folded in my lap, the papers untouched before me. ℯ

"You stubborn little bitch!" she snarled, raising the whip for another strike. "Do you think your defiance matters? I’ll beat you until you sign every page!"

"You can’t have it," I whispered, finally speaking. My voice emerged hoarse and broken, but the words were clear. "Beckett protected everything. Offshore trusts with iron-clad provisions. Even if I signed those papers, even if you killed me, you’d never access a single dollar."

The whip froze mid-arc. Claire’s face contorted with rage as the implications sank in.

"You’re lying."

"The trust automatically reverts to charitable organizations if I die or if there’s evidence of coercion. Beckett knew exactly what kind of person you are." I met her furious gaze without flinching. "Every beating you give me, every signature you force—it only strengthens the case for coercion. You’ve already lost, Claire. You just don’t know it yet."

Her scream of fury echoed off the safe house walls. She struck me again and again with the whip, but now there was desperation behind each blow rather than calculated control. When she finally exhausted herself, both of us were breathing heavily, my shirt torn and bloody.

"This isn’t over," she hissed, gathering up the unsigned papers. "I’ll find another way. There’s always another way."

"No," I said quietly. "There isn’t."

She stormed toward the door, then paused to deliver one final threat. "Connor will break you where I failed. And when he tires of your defiance, I’ll be waiting."

The door slammed behind her with enough force to rattle the reinforced frame. I remained on the sofa, bleeding and battered, but for the first time in days, I allowed myself the smallest smile.

Beckett had protected me even from beyond the grave. The inheritance would remain safe, and Claire’s desperate gambit had failed completely. Now all I had to do was survive Connor’s inevitable retaliation when he learned the truth.