5. Chapter Five Jade
Chapter Five: Jade
H e was gone. And when he was gone, I could plan my escape.
The clink of fine china and the soft murmur of Dante’s departure ushered in a silence that settled over the penthouse like a verdict. I watched him go, his back to me, every step echoing the finality of doors closing shut. As the sun climbed higher, its rays spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows that stretched out like prison bars across the marble floor.
Once he was gone, the fatigue that had been hovering at the edges of my consciousness came crashing down on me. But I shoved it aside; there’d be time for sleep when I was free from this opulent prison. This wasn’t home - it was a beautifully decorated cage, complete with invisible sentinels of steel and encryption standing guard at every exit.
My eyes lingered on the elevator, its gleaming doors reflecting a distorted image of myself. It sat there like a challenge, needing only a keycard’s whisper to yield its secrets. I didn’t have that key, but desperation was the mother of invention. It was either find a way or succumb to the golden handcuffs Dante had so artfully disguised as luxury.
I measured each step with precision, a silent waltz in Dante’s grand penthouse, my mind sharpening with focus. The security cameras hadn’t gone unnoticed. I trailed my gaze along their lines of sight, memorizing the angles and blind spots with meticulousness.
“Technology,” I murmured under my breath, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the gravity of my situation, “your sleek, shiny downfall.”
My fingertips skimmed across cold surfaces, every texture a story, every device a potential ally—if only I had access. Control panels embedded in the walls teased me, their screens alight with subtle luminescence. I assumed they were hooked to the cameras. I paused, considering, then retreated a step. No, not yet. Touch nothing without knowing the consequences, that was lab safety 101.
“Patience, Jade,” I chided myself quietly, the irony not lost on me that here I was, seeking a crack in the armor of a man who dealt in fear and control, while I couldn’t even press a button without second-guessing. But I knew this game wasn’t won with haste; it demanded cunning and attention to detail.
After I felt like I had surveyed the entire penthouse, I went back to my makeshift lab. I slumped into the leather chair at my workstation, the familiar hum of electronics around me offering a cold comfort. My eyes scanned over the digital pages of research I’d been poring over, but the letters blurred together, meaningless. The outside world beckoned through the screen, a myriad of information at my fingertips, yet I felt as distant from it as if I were staring through a telescope at a far-off galaxy.
“Focus, Jade,” I muttered to myself, trying to shake off the fog of isolation. But my stomach growled, derailing my thoughts with its primal demand for attention. Food—a basic need I’d neglected in my quest to peel back the layers of Dante’s fortress.
I reached for the mouse and clicked through to a food delivery site. Ramen noodles. How mundane, how wonderfully normal. I typed in the order without much hope; delivery to Dante’s penthouse was a long shot at best.
Half an hour later, the intercom in the kitchen crackled to life. I practically ran to it.
“Hi? Yes, bring the food up, please,” I said.
The voice came back, confused. “Miss, there’s no way to deliver this up to you.”
“Please, there must be some way,” I said, injecting a note of pleading into my voice. It felt wrong, manipulating the situation, but desperation didn’t play fair.
“You’ll have to come down here,” the delivery man said.
How could I tell him I literally wasn’t able to leave? How could I tell him I was trapped? There was no guarantee Dante wasn’t listening to me right then.
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m doing a time sensitive experiment.”
He sighed. “Uh, hold on. You’ll need to talk to the doorman.”
“Of course.” My heart hammered in my chest as I pressed the button to connect to the lobby. “This is Dr. Bentley. I’m…staying with Dante Moretti. Could you let the delivery man up? It’s... important research material.”
“Understood, Dr. Bentley,” the doorman’s voice was crisp, formal. A moment of silence, then, “I’ll make sure he uses the service elevator.”
A rush of adrenaline surged through me. Service elevator. Less guarded. A sliver of hope cut through the despair that had begun to take root in my mind. I released the talk button and leaned back, allowing myself a small smile.
“Thank you,” I whispered into the empty room, to the doorman, to the delivery man, to the universe that had just handed me a chance. All I needed now was a plan.
The doorbell’s chime shattered the silence, an alien sound echoing off the marble and glass. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before swinging the door open. Okay, good.
So there was a door. Of course there had to be a door. It looked like a
It just…didn’t look like a door. But that was where the knock had come from, so after palming the wall for a second, I found a hinge that I had thought was part of a wall bookshelf—because I was an idiot—and managed to pull it open.
The delivery man stood there, a steaming bag in his hand and an expectant look on his face.
“Dr. Bentley?” he asked, eyebrows raised as if the grandeur around him was a bit too much for a simple delivery.
“That’s me,” I confirmed, taking the bag with a brisk nod. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing. Uh, nice place,” he mumbled, glancing around before turning to leave.
I almost wanted to laugh at the understatement – ‘nice’ didn’t even begin to cover Dante’s penthouse. But my amusement was short-lived as I caught the departing figure of the delivery man enter the service elevator, the doors sliding shut behind him. My gaze lingered on the metal doors, a plan beginning to unfurl in my thoughts.
I retreated from the doorway, closing it softly behind me. My attention wasn’t on the noodles, their aroma now infusing the air, but on the gleaming panels of the service elevator across the room. And a door. A real door.
One I had access to.
I could just…walk out of here. I needed to be careful about it. It was a solid lead, a shadowy opportunity hidden in the bright daylight of my gilded prison.
I couldn’t just stroll through that door; it was clear as day. But knowledge was power, and I had just learned something crucial. There was another way out—a whisper of freedom—and I needed to grab it with both hands.
“Okay, Jade, think,” I muttered to myself, setting down the food without sparing it a glance. I picked up a pen and started scribbling notes on a nearby pad, each line a step closer to breathing free air again. The ramen cooled unnoticed, a casualty in my silent war for escape.
I sat on the plush sofa, a bowl of noodles nestled in my lap, feeling like an imposter amidst the grandeur that was never meant for me. From up here, the city was so quiet.
Nibbling on a noodle, I allowed myself a moment to appreciate its flavors—rich broth, tender chicken, spices that danced on my tongue. It was good, damn good, but it tasted even better knowing it could be one of the last meals standing between me and freedom. With every bite, I steadied my nerves. This wasn’t just food; this was fuel for the fight.
“Come on, Jade,” I whispered to the empty room, “you’ve cracked tougher codes than this.” My eyes drifted over the lavishness that caged me. A plan had begun to crystallize during the day’s careful observations. Dante might have built an empire on fear and power, but his fortress had cracks, and I was ready to slip through them.
I set the bowl aside, its contents half-finished, my appetite waning under the weight of anticipation. Escape was within reach, a dangerous game where the stakes were my life. But wasn’t that what I’d been doing all along? Playing games with fate?
“Time to play smarter, not harder.”
I glanced back at the remnants of my meal, a small smile tugging at my lips. I could do this. I had to.
It was time to turn the tables, and I’d start by learning the rules Dante played by—even if I had to rewrite them myself.
I grabbed the noodles and made sure to clean after myself. I didn’t want Dante to know I had ordered food, that I had a lifeline to the outside world.
I quickly discarded the paper bag and foam container in the bottom of a small trash can, burying them under other, less consequential waste. With a brief nod, I was satisfied it wouldn’t draw attention. The last thing I needed was Dante noticing an anomaly and becoming suspicious.
Then I slipped back into the home office, my temporary lab. The room was as cold and clinical as ever, filled with top-of-the-line equipment that made it look more like a futuristic movie set than an actual working space. It was also where I spent most of my time—effects of Dante’s restrictive protectiveness that bordered on obsession.
I made sure to wipe my internet history after every browsing session, even going so far as to install software that would do it automatically. I didn’t know how tech-savvy Dante was, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Every trace of my contact with the outside world had to be erased, every possible link severed.
Easing back into the plush office chair, I glanced at the myriad of test tubes and beakers littering the desk. Each one bore silent testament to the hours I had spent laboring over them - a pursuit of knowledge twisted into an obsession by Dante’s warped sense of protection. My mind drifted back to my conversation with the delivery man. Freedom came in small packages, but they were packages nonetheless.
I was going to catch him off guard. I knew it.
And then…then I was going to escape.