Chapter 78 Caged
Aria’s POV
I’d been inside for five days.
Five days since the gala. Five days since Christian had hit me. Five days since my world had narrowed to these four walls.
I paced my bedroom like a caged animal, my bare feet wearing a path in the expensive carpet. Back and forth. Back and forth. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air too thick to breathe.
I needed to get out. Needed air. Needed space. Needed anything other than this suffocating prison.
I walked to my bedroom door and pulled it open.
Two guards stood on either side, their faces impassive.
“I’m going out,” I said, trying to sound confident. Authoritative.
“I’m sorry, Miss Martinez,” the one on the left said without sounding sorry at all. “We have instructions that you’re not to leave.”
“Instructions from who?”
“Your parents, miss.”
“My parents?” I laughed, but it came out bitter. “I’m twenty-three years old. They can’t just keep me locked up like…”
“Those are our instructions,” the other guard interrupted. “We’re sorry, miss.”
They weren’t moving. Weren’t budging an inch.
I slammed the door in their faces and screamed into my hands.
This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.
I looked around my room…at the expensive furniture, the walk-in closet full of designer clothes, the view of Central Park from my window.
A beautiful cage was still a cage.
I had to try something else.
I left my room again, ignoring the guards, and headed down the hallway to the master suite. I didn’t knock, just pushed open the door.
My mother sat in her vanity, applying lipstick without a care in the world. She didn’t even glance at me when I entered.
“You have to let me out,” I said, my voice shaking. “You can’t keep me locked in here like a prisoner.”
“We’re not keeping you prisoner, darling.” She pressed her lips together, checking her reflection. “We’re keeping you safe. There’s a difference.”
“Safe from what?”
“From yourself. From making rash decisions that would ruin your life.”
I walked closer, my hands clenched at my sides. “Christian hit me, Mom. He hit me. I can’t marry someone who…”
“Well, what did you do to make him hit you?”
The words stopped me cold.
My mother finally looked at me in the mirror, her expression calm. Like she’d just asked about the weather.
“He’s usually very well-behaved,” she continued, turning back to her reflection. “Christian comes from a good family. He has excellent prospects. If he felt the need to correct you, I’m sure you gave him reason.”
I stared at her, unable to form words.
This woman. This woman who’d given birth to me, who’d raised me, who was supposed to love me…she was excusing the man who’d hit me. Blaming me for it.
“Get out,” she said calmly. “And stop being dramatic. The wedding is in eight months. You need to accept that and behave accordingly, since you know the truth now I expect you to grow up and stop acting like an adult.”
I turned and walked out without another word.
There was no point. She’d chosen her side, and it wasn’t mine.
——-
That evening, I made my decision.
I waited until the house was quiet. Until I could hear my father’s voice from his office, my mother’s footsteps in the kitchen below.
Then I moved.
I changed into jeans and a hoodie, pulling my purple hair into a bun. I grabbed my phone and my credit card…the one in my name that my father had given me for “emergencies.”
My bedroom window opened onto a decorative ledge that ran along the building. I’d climbed out this way a few times as a teenager, sneaking out to parties my parents would never have approved of.
I could do it again.
I climbed out carefully, my heart pounding, the cold December air biting at my exposed skin. The ledge was narrower than I remembered. The drop to the street below looked much farther.
Don’t look down. Just don’t look down.
I inched along the ledge until I reached the fire escape. Grabbed the railing. Pulled myself over.
Then I climbed down as fast as I could without falling, my hands shaking on the cold metal.
When my feet hit the sidewalk, I ran.
I ran until I was blocks away, until my lungs burned, until I was sure no one had followed me.
Then I walked. Just walked through the city with no destination in mind, breathing in the freedom.
But freedom didn’t last long.
By midnight, I was standing outside a hotel…nothing fancy, just somewhere I could get a room and figure out my next move.
I walked up to the front desk, smiled at the tired-looking clerk, and handed over my credit card.
“Just for one night,” I said.
He swiped the card.
Frowned.
Swiped it again.
“I’m sorry, miss,” he said, handing it back. “This card has been declined.”
My stomach dropped. “What? That’s impossible. Try it again.”
He did. Same result.
“It’s been blocked,” he said apologetically. “You’ll need to contact your bank.”
I stared at the card in my hand.Blocked. My father had already blocked my card.
Of course he had. He probably got an alert the second I left the building. Probably called the bank immediately.
I backed away from the desk, my vision swimming.
I had no money. No credit card. Nowhere to go.
I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking as I pulled up Melissa’s contact.
My finger hovered over the call button.
But it was past midnight. She’d be asleep. And after everything she was dealing with…Gavin, Troy, all of it…I couldn’t drag her into my mess too.
I couldn’t ask her to save me again.“Dammit,” I whispered, shoving my phone back in my pocket.
I walked out of the hotel, back onto the street, with no plan and no options.
I bent forward, my hands on my knees, trying not to cry. Trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do now.
That’s when someone tapped my shoulder.
I spun around, my heart jumping into my throat.
A man stood there, his face shadowed by the streetlight behind him.
“You look lost,” he said.