Trapped In A Fancy Cage
The sleek black SUV finally pulled up to the Prescott family house. A jaw-droppingly gorgeous modern mansion with clean lines, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and a luxurious black-and-grey color scheme that screamed understated power and wealth.
The driveway alone looked like it belonged in a magazine.
Ivy gently helped Emery out of the car, keeping a supportive arm around her slender shoulders.
Emery’s sparkling dress looked painfully out of place against the monochrome elegance as they walked inside. Her hair was slightly disheveled, the borrowed ivory veil long discarded, and her stormy eyes remained fixed on the floor, red-rimmed and exhausted.
In the vast living room, dominated by dark grey couches, a massive LED television mounted on the wall, and sleek black marble accents, the rest of the family was already waiting.
Rebecca Prescott stood with her arms crossed, fury etched across her elegant face. Grandpa Luis sat in a leather armchair, looking stern.
Harper and her husband Percy lingered near the window, the earlier excitement of the day completely gone.
Rebecca’s voice carried sharply through the room the moment Ivy and Emery entered.
“...and now we’re stuck with some girl from God-knows-where because Camilla decided to run off with her secret boyfriend.
This is ridiculous. We opened our family to that Bramwell girl expecting class and connections, not some poor replacement who. ..”
Ivy cleared her throat loudly, cutting her mother off. “Mom. She’s here.”
Rebecca didn’t even pause. She barely glanced in Emery’s direction before continuing, her tone dripping with disdain.
“Oh, please. Look at her... still in that ridiculous pink dress like she’s playing dress-up.
She’s from a humble background at best. No real standing, no pedigree.
We’re expected to accept her as Alexander’s wife?
She’ll embarrass this family every time she opens her mouth.
Poor little thing probably grew up wearing hand-me-downs.
Now she thinks she can just step into our world because her cousin bailed? Absolutely not.”
Emery stood frozen, staring at the dark grey marble floor, her fair cheeks burning with humiliation. Her slender hands twisted the fabric of her dress, but she said nothing, swallowing back fresh tears.
Alexander and Jesse walked in right then, the front door clicking shut behind them.
Alexander opened his mouth to speak, his calm voice ready to intervene, but Jesse beat him to it. His intense eyes flashed with protective anger as he stepped forward, voice low but firm.
“Mom. Stop.”
Rebecca turned to him, surprised. “Jesse—”
“No,” Jesse cut in sharply, his frame tense in the navy suit. “Don’t say things about Emery like this. She’s innocent in all of this. She didn’t ask for any of it. She was pressured into this just as much as Alexander was. Insulting her won’t change what happened today.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “You’re defending her? After the humiliation we’ve all suffered?”
“She didn’t cause the humiliation,” Jesse replied, jaw clenched tight. His gaze flicked briefly to Emery who still hadn’t lifted her eyes from the floor, before returning to his mother. “She’s not Camilla. She’s not the one who ran. She’s just… caught in the middle. Have some decency.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the sleek living room.
Ivy stepped in quickly, sensing the rising tension. “I’ll take her upstairs,” she said softly, gently guiding Emery toward the floating staircase. “Come on, Emery. You’ve had a long day.”
Emery nodded mutely, her stormy eyes still downcast, and allowed Ivy to lead her away without a word. Her soft waves of hair swayed with each quiet step, the dress trailing behind her like a painful reminder of everything that had gone wrong.
As they disappeared up the stairs, Rebecca muttered under her breath, still furious, while Alexander watched the exchange with quiet, observant eyes, completely unaware of the real storm brewing in his younger brother’s chest.
Jesse remained standing in the living room, heart pounding, every instinct screaming at him to follow Emery upstairs.
Instead, he forced himself to stay rooted, the weight of the secret he could not yet reveal pressing down on him like never before.
×××××××
Ivy led Emery into the spacious master bedroom on the upper floor of the Prescott family house.
The room was unmistakably masculine and sophisticated... a large, low-profile platform bed dominated the space with crisp gray bedding and sharp black accents.
Black marble nightstands flanked the bed, while dark wooden flooring edged the soft, plush carpet.
In the center sat a sleek black marble coffee table paired with a leather armchair. Heavy dark curtains framed the windows on the right.
On the left wall, an integrated black cabinet glowed with illuminated liquor bottles, and a large flat-screen TV was mounted above a marble console.
Recessed ceiling lights cast a soft, modern glow over the contemporary design, and mirrored doors revealed a walk-in closet beyond.
This was Alexander’s room.
Now it was hers too.
Ivy gently gestured toward the leather armchair. “You can sit down.”
Emery remained standing, her slender frame rigid in the dress, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold her pieces together.
Her hair fell in disheveled soft waves past her shoulders, wispy curtain bangs framing a face that looked utterly drained.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the dark wooden floor.
“Look, I know this is so unexpected,” Ivy said softly, her voice kind. “We’ll find a solution, okay?”
Emery didn’t respond.
“My name is Ivy. I’m the youngest. Jesse, the one who defended you downstairs, he’s my twin.” She offered a small, encouraging smile. “I assume you know him. They said you work at the company.”
Emery gave a tiny nod, her throat too tight to speak.
“Great. Look, people will talk for a few days and then shut up. My mom is a little strict, but she’ll understand soon. Don’t worry.” Ivy stepped closer, her tone gentle and reassuring. “I’ll bring you some clothes you can change into, alright?”
Emery managed another small nod.
As Ivy turned to leave, Harper walked in holding a sleeping Kitty against her shoulder. The baby’s chubby cheek rested peacefully on her mother’s chest, completely unaware of the tension in the room.
Harper’s eyes landed on Emery and narrowed.
“Mrs. Prescott,” she said, her voice dripping with bitterness.
“Look at you, pretending to be shocked. These crocodile tears… You can wipe them. We know you’re very happy.
A common worker who’s now the wife of the CEO.
You wouldn’t even have dreamt about this kind of life. ”
“Harper, is it really necessary?” Ivy cut in sharply. “Look at her.”
Harper ignored her sister. “Whatever. Don’t think you’re going to last in this house. You won’t.” She turned on her heel and walked out without another word, Kitty still sleeping soundly in her arms.
Ivy let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temple. “I’m so sorry about that.”
Emery shook her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. Nothing about this day felt okay.
Ivy hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but finally offered a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be right back with those clothes.”
As the door clicked shut behind Ivy, Emery stood alone in the middle of Alexander’s sleek, masculine bedroom.
The gray bedding on the large platform bed seemed to mock her. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, the sparkling fabric of the dress suddenly feeling cheap and ridiculous in this luxurious space.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks again.
Downstairs, the family was still arguing. Up here, she was trapped in a life she never asked for... married to one brother while her heart still belonged to the other.
And Jesse… somewhere in this house, carrying the same unbearable secret.
×××××××
Jesse closed the heavy black oak door of his bedroom with a soft click and leaned back against it, his broad shoulders pressing hard into the wood as if it could hold him together.
With shaking hands, he ripped the bowtie from his collar and shrugged off his navy suit jacket, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.
Tears streamed silently down his face as he slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, head buried in his hands.
“Emery… Emery… Emery…” he whispered brokenly, voice cracking with every repetition. “What happened to us?”
The room around him was a luxurious, dark-toned bedroom bathed in nighttime ambiance.
A large, upholstered gray bed with a dramatic scalloped, arched headboard dominated the space, dressed in a rich dark gray comforter and layered with mixed beige and black pillows.
It sat on a soft plush gray rug over rich dark-wood flooring. Two dark wooden nightstands flanked the bed, each topped with a warm beige lamp and carefully chosen decorative pieces.
A black chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow, while wall sconces illuminated the elegant paneling behind the bed.
On the right, black French-style double doors with an arched top opened onto a private outdoor terrace, where soft nighttime lighting revealed the silhouettes of trees against the dark sky.
A black tufted chair sat beside a vanity with a mirror framed by glowing bulb lights, and in the foreground, a round marble coffee table held flickering candles and a vase of pristine white roses, completing the moody, elegant décor.
This room… He had always dreamt of bringing Emery here as his wife.
He had imagined her standing by those French doors in one of his shirts, laughing softly as he pulled her close. He had pictured waking up with her tangled in these dark gray sheets, her hair spread across the pillows, her stormy eyes soft with love instead of pain.
That dream would never happen now.
She had been brought into this house today but as his sister-in-law.
The thought hit him like a physical blow. Jesse’s chest tightened painfully, fresh tears slipping through his fingers as he pressed the heels of his hands harder against his eyes.
His frame shook with silent sobs. The woman he had loved in secret for three years, the woman he had held and kissed and fought with just days ago, was now legally married to his own brother.
Alexander’s wife.
The reality burned like acid in his veins... possessive jealousy, crushing guilt, and raw, unbearable grief all tangled together.
He had pushed her away. He had asked for that stupid break in anger. And now she was crying in another man’s bedroom somewhere down the hall, wearing a dress that wasn’t meant for her wedding, carrying the weight of a marriage she never wanted.
“Fuck…” he whispered hoarsely, head falling back against the door with a dull thud. “Emery… I’m so sorry.”
Outside his room, the house was quiet, but inside Jesse’s heart, everything was shattering.
He stayed there on the floor for a long time, the warm light of the black chandelier doing nothing to chase away the darkness swallowing him whole.
×××××××