The Caged Canary Finds Her Sky

Kenia POV:

The sound of the heavy metal pen hitting the glass echoed in the dead silence of the bedroom.

My shoulders jerked upward. I shrank back slightly, letting him see the fear in my posture.

I slowly reached out. My fingers brushed against the cold metal casing of the Montblanc pen. The moment my skin touched it, I forced my right hand to shake.

I didn't just tremble. I let my wrist spasm violently.

The pen slipped from my grip. It clattered against the glass coffee table and rolled a few inches away, leaving a thick smear of black ink across the pristine surface.

Holden’s dark eyebrows crashed together. A hard line of irritation formed around his mouth.

I immediately grabbed my right wrist with my left hand, squeezing it tight as if trying to stop a painful cramp. I let a fresh wave of tears pool in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I gasped, my voice breaking perfectly. "My wrist. The old injury is acting up again. The cold weather always makes it spasm."

I looked up at him, making sure the tears were visible. Three years ago, during a brutal New York winter, I had walked miles in the snow to bring him hot soup at his office. I had slipped on the icy steps outside his building and fractured my right wrist. I had endured the pain for hours because he was busy in a meeting.

Holden’s jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck jumped. For one brief second, his expression stiffened. He hated being reminded of his debts, especially to me.

I used his silence to push the papers away with my left hand.

"I can't write right now, Holden," I whispered pitifully. "My handwriting will look like a child's scribble. If I sign such an important family document like this, your mother will laugh at me. She already thinks I'm not good enough."

Holden didn't say a word. His dark eyes locked onto mine. He stared at me with an intense, predatory focus. He was looking for a lie. He was searching for any sign of defiance.

I held his gaze. I didn't blink. I let one tear spill over my lashes and drop onto the carpet.

The silence stretched for ten agonizing seconds. I could hear my own pulse hammering in my ears.

Finally, Holden let out a harsh breath. He reached over, grabbed the pen, and snapped the cap back on.

"Fine," he said, his voice returning to its usual cold superiority. "We will do it tomorrow. After the Hamptons family dinner, you will have plenty of time to rest your hand."

I let out a shaky breath, letting my shoulders drop in fake relief.

Holden stood up. He towered over me. "Estella will be at the dinner tomorrow night. She is a crucial business partner for the Dalton family. I expect you to be gracious. Don't show me that petty, jealous face you make when she's around."

My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. "I understand," I said softly to the floor.

Holden turned toward the bathroom. He paused in the doorway and looked back at the table. "Clean up that ink."

The bathroom door clicked shut. A second later, the sound of the shower running filled the room.

The pathetic, frightened expression melted off my face instantly. My tears stopped. My eyes turned to pure ice.

I pulled a tissue from the box on the table. I wiped the black ink off the glass, pressing down so hard my knuckles ached. I was wiping away the last three years of my blind loyalty.

I picked up the prenup and flipped to the last page. My eyes scanned the tiny print at the bottom. *The female party shall have no right to interfere with the male party’s commercial or social freedoms during the marriage.*

This wasn't a marriage contract. It was a legally binding slave agreement.

I dropped the papers. I stood up and walked into the massive walk-in closet. I stopped in front of the dress I had prepared for tomorrow night. It was a starry blue silk gown. I had spent weeks designing and sewing it myself.

I reached up and touched the cool, smooth fabric. My other hand moved down, resting firmly over my flat stomach.

Holden thought he had total control. He thought I was just a stupid orphan who would take his abuse until he handed me a check.

"You want me to leave with a check and my shame, Holden," I whispered to the empty closet. "I'll make you learn what a real price is."