Chapter 8 Century Cage
Glass walls imprisoned sunlight and secrets. The conservatory Edward built after Elizabeth's hospital discharge stretched across the east lawn like a crystalline mausoleum—roses climbing trellises, exotic orchids dripping nectar, and Elizabeth trapped among them like the rarest specimen.
"It's for your protection," Edward insisted, programming the biometric locks. "Anne has powerful friends."
Three months of gilded captivity had turned Elizabeth's skin translucent. She pressed her palm against heated glass, watching Thomas splash in the outdoor pool under his nanny's watchful eye.
"He needs his mother," she whispered to Edward's reflection as he entered with her afternoon tea.
"He has you." Edward set the silver tray down. "Right here where you're safe."
"In my cage?" Elizabeth turned, roses framing her like a Renaissance painting. "This isn't protection, Edward. It's possession."
His jaw tightened. "Would you prefer Anne's alternative? She made bail yesterday."
The teacup trembled in Elizabeth's hand. "You promised no more secrets."
"I promised no more doubts." Edward adjusted the climate controls, humidity rising to feed his precious blooms. "Anne threatened Thomas at his preschool. Called him her 'investment.'"
Horror washed through Elizabeth like ice water. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you'd do exactly what you're contemplating now." Edward trapped her against the glass wall, his body caging hers. "Run."
Their breath fogged the pane between them. Outside, Thomas waved frantically, his laughter muted by inch-thick security glass.
"I'm not running," Elizabeth whispered. "I'm suffocating."
Edward's fingers traced the surgical scar on her side where her kidney would have been removed. "Better breathless than heartless."
The conservatory door hissed open as Thomas burst in, trailing pool water across marble tiles. "Daddy! Miss Anne is back with the funny-smelling water!"
Edward froze. "What funny-smelling water?"
"In the big cans." Thomas made sloshing motions. "She said it's for the roses."
Alarms shrieked through the estate. Security monitors flashed red as smoke billowed from the garage—where the fuel depot connected to the main house.
"FIRE!" The nanny's scream pierced the afternoon calm.
Edward scooped Thomas into his arms, shoving a panic button on his watch. "Garage access, northeast quadrant. Evacuate all staff."
Elizabeth grabbed Thomas's inhaler from her pocket. "The garage connects to the—"
"Conservatory gas lines." Edward's face drained of color. "She's turning your cage into a crematorium."
Glass walls trembled as the first explosion rocked the foundation. Through smoke and chaos, Anne appeared on the security monitors, dragging gasoline canisters toward the conservatory's oxygen supply.
"If I can't have a kidney, I'll take your heart instead!" Her voice crackled through intercoms. "We'll all burn together!"
Edward thrust Thomas into Elizabeth's arms. "Emergency tunnel beneath the orchid display. Code 1787."
"What about you?" Elizabeth clutched their son as Edward punched numbers into a hidden panel.
"I'm ending this." He pressed his signet ring into her palm. "If I don't follow in three minutes, keep running."
The floor slid open revealing concrete steps. Thomas whimpered against Elizabeth's neck as smoke began seeping through ventilation shafts.
"Edward, please—"
His kiss silenced her, desperate and final. "Three minutes. Then run."
The tunnel sealed behind them, darkness swallowing Elizabeth's scream as the second explosion shook dust from concrete walls. Thomas's inhaler wheezed in the blackness, his tiny lungs fighting smoke that followed them down.
"Mommy, where's Daddy?"
Elizabeth clutched Edward's ring, its edges cutting into her palm. "Fighting monsters, sweetheart."
Two minutes stretched into eternity. Emergency lights flickered on, illuminating the escape route to the boathouse. Above them, hell rained glass and fire.
"We have to go back!" Elizabeth pounded against the sealed entrance. "EDWARD!"
The tunnel door slid open, belching smoke and nightmares. Edward stumbled through, his suit ablaze, skin blistering as he collapsed at their feet.
"Anne—" he gasped, rolling to extinguish flames consuming his back. "She—"
The final explosion drowned his words. The conservatory imploded, raining molten glass and twisted metal as Edward threw himself over Elizabeth and Thomas, his body their final shield.
Dawn broke over Blackthorn estate's skeletal remains. Emergency vehicles cast red and blue shadows across the ruined gardens where roses had melted into grotesque shapes. Elizabeth sat wrapped in shock blankets, Thomas asleep in her lap, while paramedics treated Edward's burns.
"She didn't make it out," the fire chief reported. "Found her remains near the oxygen tanks."
Edward winced as medics applied burn cream to his shoulders. "And the staff?"
"All accounted for, sir."
When they were finally alone, Elizabeth touched the bandages covering Edward's back. "You saved us."
"I protected what's mine." His voice rasped from smoke inhalation. "Always will."
Thomas stirred, tiny fingers tracing the melted signet ring Elizabeth still clutched. "Can we build a new house, Daddy?"
Edward's laugh dissolved into coughing. "What kind of house, champion?"
"One without glass." Thomas's serious eyes met his father's. "So Mommy can breathe."
In the charred rose garden, as dawn painted ash with golden light, Edward took Elizabeth's hand. "No more cages."
"No more running," she countered.
Among the ruins, their kiss tasted of smoke and new beginnings.
Six weeks later, the blackened rose garden transformed into an altar. Elizabeth walked through aisles of freshly planted seedlings, her simple white dress catching on thorns that would someday bloom again. Thomas preceded her, scattering diamond chips instead of flower petals—fragments of the conservatory glass, recut and purified by fire.
Edward waited beneath an arch of scorched timber, his burns healing beneath his suit, his eyes never leaving hers as she approached.
"Third time's the charm?" he whispered as she reached him.
Elizabeth touched the rosebud scar above her heart, now matched by the burn scar on his back. "No more contracts. Just vows."
As they exchanged rings—simple platinum bands replacing ornate gold—Thomas tugged on the minister's robes.
"Does this mean no more monsters?"
Edward lifted his son between them. "It means we fight them together."
In the distance, bulldozers cleared debris for their new home—open-concept, no glass walls, windows that actually opened. Elizabeth's wedding bouquet contained a single surviving rose, its petals scarred but vibrant.
"To new beginnings," Edward murmured against her lips.
"To breathing freely," she answered.
Somewhere beneath the ashes, Anne's obsession fertilized fresh blooms. Somewhere in Thomas's crayon drawings, their family portrait finally included smiles that reached their eyes. Somewhere between possession and partnership, love found room to grow without walls.
