The Gilded Cage (The WRAITH series)

The sweet, heavy smell of lilies filled the church, but it didn’t make Samantha feel light or happy. It felt like a cruel joke. The lilies were white and perfect, but everything else felt wrong. Each breath she took reminded her that things looked good on the outside, but were bad underneath.

Her father, Sampson Simms, stood at the altar. He used to be her hero, but now he was like a stranger. His eyes weren’t warm anymore. They were cold and greedy, like he was thinking about money. She knew he probably made a lot of it by selling her to Ace Mason.

Next to her father stood her soon to be husband. He was handsome, but his face was blank. He stared straight ahead, like he was a statue. He was the man she had to marry, even though she didn’t want to. He was like a beautiful cage, pretending to be a safe place. She wondered if he felt bad about this, if he hated being part of this unfair deal. Or was he just playing his part, forced to do this for reasons she didn’t know?

Ace was a mystery. He had a nice suit on, but it couldn’t hide the wildness in his silver eyes. The suit made him look respectable, but he seemed like he was ready to explode. He was only 26, but he had lines around his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in years. Like he had been fighting secret battles.

She knew he was friends with the “Wraith” group. They were like ghosts on the internet, able to break into big companies and show the world their secrets. She found this out by spying on her father’s phone call, the call that ruined her life.

The call was quiet and broken, but she understood enough. Ace was dangerous and good at tricking people. He could destroy things with computers. And somehow, he was mixed up in her father’s secrets. The more she learned, the more she realized Ace wasn’t just a hacker. He was a powerful force, a result of a world filled with too much information. Now, he was a big part of her life falling apart.

She looked at her reflection on the shiny floor. It didn’t look like her. It looked like a fake version of herself. Her hair, usually wild and free, was pinned up fancy. The red streaks in her brown hair, usually hidden, were now shining bright. They reminded her of the fire inside her that was being put out.

Her blue eyes, usually full of fun and curiosity, were now sad and scared. They were cloudy, like a stormy sea. They were screaming for help, but no one could hear. She was only 20. She should be making plans for her future, dreaming about what she wanted to be. Not standing here, being sold off like an animal. Her worth was only about her family and having babies. The weight of her family’s expectations was crushing her.

The priest talked and talked, but Samantha didn’t hear him. She was too scared. She looked at Ace from the corner of her eye. She wanted to see something in his face, some sign that he cared. She wanted to see if he understood how serious this was. But his eyes were cold and empty.

He didn’t seem to care about the wedding at all. He was looking at a spot on his shoe. A tiny spot was more interesting than getting married. Samantha felt a shiver go down her spine. This was a nightmare.

The priest said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The words hit Samantha hard. She was Mrs. Ace Mason now. She was tied to a man who bought her. She was trapped.

The priest smiled, but Samantha couldn’t return it. People started clapping. It sounded far away, like thunder rumbling in the distance. Ace turned to her, his face still blank. He didn’t smile either. He just lifted her veil and placed a cold kiss on her cheek. It felt like a transaction, not an act of love.

Then, she was being led through the crowd, a puppet on a string. People patted her back, offering fake smiles and congratulations. Their words felt hollow, like empty promises. She barely registered their faces. All she saw was a sea of blurry smiles and expensive clothes.

The reception was in a grand ballroom. Sparkling lights hung from the ceiling like stars. Tables covered in white cloth stretched across the room, each adorned with flowers and fancy dishes. The air was thick with perfume and the murmur of voices.

Samantha was led to a table at the front, a spotlight shining down on her. Ace sat beside her, a dark figure in his tailored suit. Around them, strangers laughed and talked, raising their glasses in toasts she didn’t hear. Her parents were there, too, smiling proudly. They thought they were doing what was best for her, for the family. But all Samantha felt was betrayed.

She picked at the food on her plate, a tasteless pile of something she couldn’t identify. Every bite felt like swallowing a lump of lead. Ace didn’t eat either. He sat stiffly, his eyes scanning the room, as if searching for something or someone.

Samantha felt hollow, a shell of a person. She was surrounded by people, yet she had never felt so utterly alone. The music played, a cheerful tune that mocked her inner turmoil. She wanted to scream, to run away, but she was trapped. Trapped in a gilded cage, with a husband who didn’t want her, and a family who had sold her off. She was a prize, a possession, not a person. The red streaks in her hair seemed to pulse, a silent scream of defiance that no one noticed.

She stayed still as a statue, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The fancy dress, bought for her, felt like a costume, suffocating her. She couldn’t force the food down, each bite turning to stone in her throat. She couldn’t talk, her voice trapped behind a wall of anger and despair.

Then, a large man with a hard face walked up to Ace. He leaned in close and whispered something in Ace’s ear. Ace’s jaw tightened, and he nodded shortly. He stood up abruptly and walked away with the man, disappearing through a door in the side of the ballroom. Samantha tried to ignore it, focusing on a single flower in the centerpiece, its petals a delicate, artificial pink.

She needed to escape, even for a moment. She pushed back her chair and walked towards the restrooms, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor. Inside, she locked the door behind her and leaned against the cool porcelain of the sink. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the feeling of being caged. She looked at her reflection, hardly recognizing the pale, hollow-eyed woman staring back. No fake smile could hide the truth etched on her face.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door handle. But then, she heard voices. Ace’s voice. It stopped her cold. She’d never heard him speak before. It was a deep, smooth voice, unexpectedly attractive, but laced with a menace that sent a shiver down her spine.

“...she is not to know,” her father said, his voice thin and reedy.

“As long as you keep your end of the bargain, she will never need to know, Sampson!” Ace replied, “And, you are in NO position to be making demands!” his voice a low growl barely holding back anger. He turned and walked out of the room, his expression smooth and unreadable as he passed the door. The ballroom music washed over him as if he hadn’t just threatened her father.

Samantha finally opened the restroom door, her mind reeling. She was determined to ignore her father’s existence and return to the reception, a mask of indifference plastered on her face. She started walking, head held high, towards the ballroom.

“Sammy,” her father called, his voice laced with a desperate plea. But Samantha continued walking as if no one had ever spoken.

Samantha continued walking, the click of her heels on the marble floor echoing in the vast hallway. “Sammy,” her father called again, his voice filled with a raw desperation that tugged at her, but she hardened her heart. No more.

She pushed open the heavy doors to the ballroom. The scene was a whirlwind of color and sound. Strings played a sweet melody, people laughed and chatted, raising glasses filled with champagne. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow on the elegantly dressed guests. It was a picture of celebration, a stark contrast to the cold dread that had taken root in her stomach. She spotted their table easily enough, the one set apart, draped in the finest linen and adorned with towering floral arrangements.

Ace was already there, standing tall and imposing. She walked towards him, her steps measured, her face a carefully constructed mask of polite indifference. He watched her approach, his eyes unreadable.

She reached the table and sat down beside him, the silk of her dress rustling softly. He didn’t acknowledge her, just continued to scan the room, a predatory glint in his eyes. It didn’t matter to her, she wouldn’t acknowledge him either.

Suddenly, Ace stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. A hush fell over the room. All eyes turned to him, the expectant silence thick with anticipation. He cleared his throat, and the sound seemed amplified in the stillness.

“Friends, family,” he began, his voice booming, “I want to thank you all for joining us on this…special occasion.” He even managed a smile, a practiced curve of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. Then, he turned slightly towards Samantha, the smile widening, though it looked strained and unnatural. “My bride, Samantha, and I are thrilled to begin the rest of our lives together.”

Samantha sat there, frozen. The words washed over her, each one a tiny barb twisting in her gut. A wave of nausea rose up, the bitter taste of bile stinging the back of her throat. She wanted to scream, to shatter the facade of this perfect day, but she remained still, a prisoner in her own body.

Her gaze flickered across the room, landing on her father. He stood amongst the crowd, his expression blank, devoid of any emotion. There was no love there, no regret, only a chilling indifference. In that moment, the truth crashed down on her with brutal force. He hadn’t protected her, hadn’t cherished her. He had been waiting, patiently biding his time until she was ripe, ready to be sold off to the highest bidder, like a prize-winning pony paraded before wealthy judges. The realization was a crushing weight, stealing her breath and leaving her hollow inside.

The rest of the reception blurred.

Finally, it was over. The guests, fueled by champagne and canapés, spilled out onto the front steps of the grand ballroom. They chattered and laughed, the sound grating on Samantha’s raw nerves.

Ace, her new husband, stood beside her. He looked down at her and extended his hand. It was a large hand, the skin stretched taut over thick knuckles. Samantha hesitated, then placed her own hand in his. It felt wrong, unfamiliar, heavy.

He pulled her gently to her feet and led her out of the ballroom, through the ornate doors, and into the cool night air. A beautiful red Rolls Royce gleamed under the soft glow of the streetlights. It was a symbol of wealth, of power, and of the cage she now found herself in.

Ace turned them around to face their assembled guests. Samantha, still holding his hand, forced a smile onto her face. It felt stiff and unnatural, but she waved, a pathetic little flutter of her fingers as if trying to signal for help that would never arrive.

Ace helped her into the back seat of the car, his movements precise and economical. Then, he slid in beside her. He wasn’t a small man. In fact, he was huge. Roughly six foot seven, his frame was packed with thick muscles.Samantha had avoided looking at him directly throughout the wedding, focusing on the empty spaces around him rather than his imposing figure. Now, trapped in the closed confines of the car, she couldn’t avoid him. She could see the way his expensive shirt strained under his suit jacket, the sheer bulk of his shoulders pressing against the luxurious leather.

The air in the car was stifling, thick with unspoken tension. The entire ride passed in silence. Ace kept checking his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen with a restless energy. Samantha thought she saw him glance at her a few times in her peripheral vision, a flicker of his silver eyes in the dim light. But she couldn’t be sure. Every stolen glance made her feel more and more uncomfortable, like a trapped animal under observation.

The ride was long. The car went down a windy and thin paved road. It took almost a half hour to pull up to the sprawling house. If you would call it a house, it wasn’t massive but it was impressively big. It was beautiful and terrifying to look at at the same time. It was old but well maintained from the outside. The air grew even colder as the car idled in front of the imposing structure. The opulent mansion that Ace called home was more fortress than dwelling. High walls, topped with razor wire barely visible glinting in the sun, encircled the property, suggesting not welcome but exclusion. State-of-the-art security, from facial recognition scanners at the wrought-iron gates to hidden cameras that tracked every movement on the sprawling grounds, reinforced the atmosphere of constant vigilance.

The driver cut off the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening. He got out of the car, the door clicking shut with a solid, expensive thud. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at Samantha. Instead, he walked around the back of the car, his movements smooth and purposeful. He reached her door, and with a single, swift motion, pulled it open.

Samantha flinched, startled by the suddenness of it. Ace stood there for a moment, his silver eyes, momentarily visible in the car’s interior light, unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked towards the huge double doors that led into the house. He didn’t wait, didn’t offer a hand, didn’t even glance back. Just disappeared inside.

Samantha sat there for a long moment, the open door a gaping invitation and a silent command. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to compose herself. She smoothed down her dress, pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and finally, stepped out of the car. The house loomed over her, an imposing giant promising secrets and shadows. With hesitant steps, she followed Ace inside.

The air inside was cool and still. Samantha’s breath caught in her throat. Gone was the imposing darkness she felt outside; instead, she was greeted by a breathtaking grand entrance. Two sweeping staircases, crafted from rich, red wood, curved upwards on either side of her, like welcoming arms. The floor beneath her feet was a gleaming expanse of black and white marble, its cool surface a stark contrast to the nervous heat rising in her cheeks. The same marble climbed the walls, creating a stunning, checkerboard effect, softened by the warm red wood that framed doorways and accented the baseboards.

The red wood wasn’t just any wood. It was a deep, vibrant color, polished to a mirror shine. Samantha could see her own reflection, distorted and small, in its surface. It was like looking into a warm fire, a welcome contrast to the cold, hard marble.

The sheer size of the entrance hall took her breath away. It stretched upwards for what seemed like forever, disappearing into a shadowed ceiling she couldn’t quite make out. Light streamed in from unseen windows, illuminating the marble and wood, making them glow.

It was beautiful. Truly, undeniably beautiful. A small, unexpected spark flickered within her. This was the first upside, the first glimmer of something positive, since the nightmare of her forced marriage to Ace had begun. Even against her will, she found herself admiring the grandeur, the exquisite detail. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this… situation… than she initially thought. But just as quickly as the thought came, it was replaced with the reality of why she was really here. She had to remember what her goal was, to get out of this as soon as possible.

Before she could fully steel herself against the subtle lure of the opulent surroundings, a woman approached. She was young, perhaps only a few years older than Samantha, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. She wore a simple, but impeccably clean, grey dress with a white apron.

“Welcome to the house, Miss… Samantha,” she said, her voice soft and melodious. “Mr. Ace instructed me to see to your needs. My name is Middy. Would you like me to show you around?”

Samantha forced a polite, but firm, smile. “Thank you, Middy, but that won’t be necessary. I’m a little tired from the… journey. If you could just show me to where I’ll be staying, I’d appreciate it.” She carefully avoided using the word “room,” the term feeling too much like an acceptance of her situation. It was a cell, plain and simple.

Middy’s brow flickered slightly, a shadow of disappointment crossing her face. “Of course, Miss Samantha. Right this way.”

Middy led her towards one of the grand stairwells, the red wood gleaming warmly under the soft light. The stairs themselves were also marble, and Samantha tried to ignore the echoing click of her heels as they ascended. At the top of the stairs, Middy turned left, down a long hallway lined with an endless series of imposing, dark wood doors. Each one was identical, adding to the feeling of cold, regimented luxury. They walked in silence, the only sound their footsteps and the distant hum of the house.

Finally, they reached the very end of the hallway. Middy stopped before the last door on the left. It was the same as all the others, indistinguishable from its neighbors.

“This is it, Miss Samantha,” Middy said quietly, her tone tinged with something Samantha couldn’t quite decipher – was it sympathy?

Samantha took a deep breath. “Thank you, Middy.” She reached for the cold, brass handle.

“Will you… will you require anything else, Miss Samantha?” Middy asked hesitantly, her gaze fixed on the floor.

Samantha shook her head, already wanting to retreat behind the closed door. “No, thank you. I just need to rest.”

“Very well, Miss Samantha,” Middy said, her voice barely a whisper. “If you need anything at all, just ring the bell. It’s by the bedside. Someone will attend to you immediately.”

Samantha nodded, her gaze fixed on the door. “Thank you.” As she turned to open the door, she couldn’t help but ask, “Middy, how long have you worked here?”

Middy shifted uncomfortably. “A few years, Miss Samantha.” Her answer was clipped, almost reluctant. Samantha sensed there was more to be said, but decided not to press.

“Right,” Samantha said, opening the door and stepping inside. “Goodnight, Middy.”

“Goodnight, Miss Samantha,” Middy replied, her voice softer than before. Then, she turned and disappeared silently back down the long hallway, leaving Samantha alone in her gilded cage.

Samantha held tight to the shiny, gold handle. She took a big breath and pulled the door open. The red wood from the hallway kept going inside the room. But the black and white floor was gone. Instead, the walls were covered in pretty, light pink paper. All over the paper were red roses and vines.

Right in front of her was a big, fancy door made of glass. To her left, with the top part of the bed touching the wall, was a huge bed with gold posts going all the way up. The cloth hanging from the posts and the covers on the bed were the same pink as the walls. On each side of the bed was a small wooden table.

To her right were two doors. The one closest to her turned out to be a closet. But it wasn’t just a small closet. It was as big as another bedroom! Shelves and bars lined the walls, already full of fancy clothes, purses, and shoes. In the middle of the room was something that looked like a kitchen counter. But it had drawers on all sides. All the drawers were empty except for one. And that one only had a piece of paper that said:

“I don’t know what kind of makeup you like or what kind of jewelry you want. Please have Middy take you to town to get whatever you like. I hope you like the clothes and shoes. Welcome, Little Bird. Signed, Ace.”

Ace! Samantha was mad again. Did he really think he could buy her with expensive gifts? No way. She stomped out of the closet and slammed the door shut.

The other door was just a normal bathroom. She ended up going outside onto the balcony. It had a beautiful view of the front and side of the house. A thick forest surrounded the whole place. She could see guards standing in different spots around the edge. Hmm? she thought. Why did he need so many guards?

She pushed the thought away and went back inside. She walked over to her “bed” and fell down on the soft blanket and cried herself to sleep.