Chapter 2 He Begins to Pamper Me
# Chapter 2: He Begins to Pamper Me
The first week at Thorne Manor passed in a blur of calculated moves and counterplays. I spent my days exploring the mansion, memorizing escape routes while appearing to reminisce about a childhood I never had. The DNA results came back—confirming what money had bought—and just like that, I became Elise Thorne, the prodigal daughter returned.
Cassian held a small, private dinner to "welcome me home." Just the two of us and Helena, his mother, a woman whose arctic beauty remained intact despite her sixty years. She watched me with hawkish eyes throughout the meal, barely touching her wine.
"It's remarkable," Helena said, her voice like silk over steel, "how little you remember of your life here, Elise."
"The doctors said it might be selective amnesia," I replied, the rehearsed line flowing easily. "Trauma can do strange things to memory."
Helena's perfectly shaped eyebrow arched. "Indeed. And yet you remembered enough to find your way back to us."
Before I could respond, Cassian set down his fork with a sharp clink. "Mother," he said, his tone a warning.
Helena's smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'm simply making conversation, darling. It's not every day the dead return to life."
After dinner, Helena excused herself with a kiss to Cassian's cheek and a cool nod in my direction. The moment she left, Cassian's shoulders relaxed.
"Don't mind her," he said. "She's... protective."
"Of you," I replied, studying him. "She doesn't believe I'm Elise."
Cassian's dark eyes held mine. "What Mother believes is irrelevant. I know who you are."
The certainty in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. Did he know? Had I made some mistake?
But then he smiled—a rare, genuine expression that transformed his face—and said, "Tomorrow, I want to show you something."
"Tomorrow" turned out to be a shopping spree that would have bankrupted a small nation. Cassian personally escorted me through the most exclusive boutiques in the city, dismissing my protests with a wave of his hand.
"My sister will try everything," he informed the fawning sales assistant at Chanel, before turning to me. "You always loved fashion. Before."
I nodded, playing along. "I... I think I remember that."
While I changed into yet another designer dress, I could hear Cassian speaking quietly to someone on the phone. I strained to listen, catching fragments: "...full security detail... no one approaches her... background checks on all staff..."
By the end of the day, my "brother" had purchased an entire wardrobe, complete with jewelry that cost more than most people's homes. As we left the final store, a flash went off—paparazzi, hungry for a glimpse of the mysterious Thorne sister.
Cassian's reaction was immediate and alarming. His arm wrapped around me, pulling me against his side with bruising force. His security team materialized, surrounding us as he rushed me toward the waiting car.
"Keep your head down," he ordered, his voice tight with anger. Once inside the vehicle, he made another call. "Find out who tipped them off. They're fired. And get me the photographer's name."
I watched him warily. "It's just a picture, Cassian."
His eyes, when they met mine, were cold with fury. "No one gets close to you without my permission. No one."
That night, I began my real work. With Cassian at a late business meeting, I slipped out of my room and made my way to his study. The security system was sophisticated but nothing I couldn't handle—I'd spent years learning these skills for exactly this moment.
Inside, I quickly located his computer. Locked, of course, but I had come prepared. As I worked on bypassing his security, I scanned the room for anything useful—documents, files, anything that might give me leverage.
A soft noise behind me made me freeze.
"What are you doing, Miss Elise?" Mrs. Winters stood in the doorway, her face expressionless.
I straightened, mind racing. "I couldn't sleep. I was looking for a book."
Mrs. Winters' eyes flickered to the computer, then back to me. "The library is down the hall. This is Mr. Thorne's private study."
"Of course. I'm sorry—I'm still getting used to the house." I moved toward the door, heart pounding.
Mrs. Winters stepped aside to let me pass, but as I did, she murmured, "Mr. Thorne doesn't appreciate people touching his things. Even family."
The warning was clear. I had an enemy in this house.
The next morning, Cassian announced he'd bought me a place of my own—not just an apartment, but an entire brownstone in the most exclusive neighborhood in the city.
"You didn't need to do that," I said, genuinely surprised. "I'm comfortable here."
"It's not about need," he replied, sliding a set of keys across the breakfast table. "It's yours. Though I've taken the liberty of arranging security."
By "security," he meant a team of six men who would rotate shifts, accompanying me everywhere. My new home came with state-of-the-art surveillance systems that reported directly to Cassian's phone. My gilded cage had just gotten bigger, but the bars were no less real.
Still, I made the most of my newfound "freedom." I arranged coffee dates with carefully selected men—business associates I'd researched, potential sources of information about Cassian's empire. Each one might provide a piece of the puzzle I needed to complete my revenge.
It was during the third such meeting, with a handsome venture capitalist named James who had once been Cassian's college roommate, that I discovered the true extent of my "brother's" control.
James and I were laughing over coffee at an upscale café when a shadow fell across our table. Cassian stood there, his expression terrifyingly blank.
"James," he said, his voice conversational despite the tension radiating from him. "I wasn't aware you were back in town."
James's smile faltered. "Cassian. Yes, just got in yesterday. I was going to call—"
"And yet here you are, with my sister." Cassian's eyes never left mine as he spoke. "How fortunate for you both."
Before either of us could respond, Cassian placed a hand on my shoulder, his fingers digging in just enough to hurt. "Elise needs to leave now. Family emergency."
"Is everything okay?" James asked, half-rising from his seat.
"Nothing that concerns you," Cassian replied, his tone dismissing James entirely.
Outside, Cassian guided me toward his car with that same painfully tight grip. People on the sidewalk turned to stare—whether at Cassian's obvious anger or his devastating good looks, I couldn't tell.
"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed, trying to pull away.
In one fluid motion, Cassian backed me against the car, his body caging mine. One hand came up to grasp my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"You are a Thorne," he said, each word precise and deadly. "No one touches what's mine. No man approaches you—" his grip tightened, "—without my permission."
I should have been terrified. I should have been plotting my escape. Instead, I found myself mesmerized by the raw possessiveness in his eyes, the slight tremor in his hand against my skin.
"You're hurting me," I whispered, though it wasn't entirely true.
Something flashed across his face—regret, perhaps—and his grip gentled, though he didn't release me. His thumb brushed across my lower lip in a gesture that was anything but brotherly.
"You disappeared once," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I won't lose you again. Not to anyone."
Around us, pedestrians openly stared now, phones raised to capture the scene. Cassian seemed oblivious to them all, his focus entirely on me, his eyes burning with an emotion I wasn't prepared to name.
In that moment, I realized two terrifying truths: Cassian Thorne was far more dangerous than I had imagined—and not in the ways I had expected. And worse, some treacherous part of me responded to that danger, drawn to it like a moth to flame.
This wasn't part of my plan. This wasn't supposed to happen.
But as he finally released my chin only to take my hand in his, leading me into the car with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession, I felt the first crack in my armor widen into a chasm.
