Chapter 12 – "Locked In"
Zurich is quiet, beautiful—and suffocating.
Ava stares out from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, watching strangers live lives that are their own. She's thousands of miles from home, trapped in a luxury apartment she can't leave.
Her phone is gone. Her laptop only accesses a curated set of safe pages. She hasn't spoken to her mother since they left New York.
Dominic left the night before with no explanation. All he said was:
> "You're safer here. Don't try anything stupid."
There are security guards in the hall, and she's certain the cameras are tracking her every move.
She tries the door. Locked.
She searches the apartment. There's no sign of personal photos, no hint of who Dominic is outside the mask he wears in public. But in his study, tucked behind stacks of financial reports, she finds a folder labeled simply:
"A. Sinclair" — her maiden name.
Inside: documents, surveillance photos, transcripts of calls she never knew were recorded.
> He was watching me before I even said yes.
And worse… he knew about her mother's illness before she ever told him. Dates. Diagnoses. Financial records. Everything.
She slams the file shut, her heart racing.
When Dominic returns that night, Ava waits in the living room, the folder on her lap.
> "How long were you planning this? Watching me? Picking me like some… investment?"
He sits across from her, calm as always.
> "From the start," he admits. "You were perfect for what I needed."
> "And what was that? A silent wife? A pawn?"
He doesn't flinch.
> "A liability I could control."
It's the coldest thing he's ever said to her.
She wants to hate him. She wants to scream. But all she can do is whisper:
> "And I thought you were the only person who could ever save me."