Javier unbuckled his seatbelt. He pushed the heavy door open and stepped out, his leather shoes echoing sharply against the concrete floor of the empty garage.

Ella fumbled with her seatbelt. Her fingers shook as she pressed the red button. She practically fell out of the car, scrambling to keep up with his long strides.

Javier walked up to a set of brushed steel elevator doors. He pressed his thumb against a glowing biometric scanner. The doors slid open in total silence.

They stepped inside. Javier hit the button for the top floor. The elevator shot upward with a force that made Ella's stomach drop.

The doors chimed and parted. They stepped directly into a massive penthouse. The walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, the furniture sharp, modern, and completely devoid of warmth.

A middle-aged woman in a crisp uniform stood waiting in the foyer. Brenda Doyle.

Brenda's face stretched into a wide, overly eager smile the second she saw Javier. She hurried forward.

Javier shrugged off his overcoat and shoved it into Brenda's hands. He pointed a long finger at Ella. "She is your responsibility now."

He fired off a rapid list of instructions. He listed Ella's dietary restrictions and sleep schedule with the cold efficiency of a military briefing.

Javier pulled his leather wallet from his inner jacket pocket. He slid out a solid black metal credit card and tossed it onto the silver tray on the console table. It landed with a heavy clink.

He checked the heavy silver watch on his left wrist. His jaw tightened.

He turned back to Ella. "I am leaving for an overseas assignment. I will be gone for fifteen days."

The air left Ella's lungs. Her eyes widened in pure panic, and she took a desperate step toward him.

Javier ignored her movement. He turned on his heel and walked straight back into the elevator. The steel doors snapped shut, cutting off her view of his face.

The numbers on the digital display rapidly decreased. The penthouse fell into a suffocating silence. Ella stood completely alone in the center of the massive room.

The moment the elevator reached the ground floor, the fake smile melted off Brenda's face. Her eyes narrowed into a look of pure disgust.

Brenda pointed a finger down the long, dark hallway. "The last room on the left. Don't make a mess."

Three days passed. Brenda took the black card and disappeared for hours. When she returned, she brought back cheap, frozen microwave meals.

Ella sat at the massive marble kitchen island. She stared down at the greasy, processed meat on her plate. Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to swallow it, terrified of causing trouble.

The cheap additives in the food began to build up in her system.

On the seventh night, Ella lay in the freezing guest bed. Her skin burned. Thick, angry red hives covered her arms and chest. She shivered violently under the thin blanket.

She forced herself out of bed. Her legs felt like lead. She stumbled down the hallway and knocked weakly on Brenda's locked door.

"Go to sleep and shut up!" Brenda yelled from inside. The volume of the television instantly blasted louder, drowning out any further noise.

Ella's knees buckled. She slid down the wall, hitting the hardwood floor. Her throat began to swell shut.

She gasped for air. A high-pitched wheezing sound tore from her chest. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision.

Whisper, the stray cat Cale had delivered in a sterile carrier two days prior under Javier's strict "pest control and asset pacification" directive, jumped out of the shadows. The cat paced around her legs, meowing frantically.

Ella's hand fell limp against the floorboards. Her eyes rolled back, and the world went completely dark.

The next morning, Brenda unlocked her door and stepped out, yawning. Her foot kicked something soft.

She looked down. Ella lay motionless on the floor, her face a terrifying shade of blue, her chest barely moving.

Brenda screamed.

Her hands shook violently as she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed 911. Ten minutes later, the wail of ambulance sirens pierced the quiet morning air outside the building.

The elevator doors on the VIP floor of the private hospital slammed open. Javier stepped out, his dark suit radiating a freezing, lethal energy.

Cale walked a half-step behind him. His face was grim. He held a thick stack of freshly printed medical reports in his hand.

Javier's leather shoes hit the polished marble floor with heavy, aggressive thuds. The sound echoed down the empty corridor like a countdown.

Brenda sat on a plastic chair outside the room. When she heard the footsteps, she jumped to her feet, her entire body trembling.

Javier stopped directly in front of her. He didn't say a single word. He snatched the stack of papers from Cale's hand and slammed them hard against Brenda's chest.

The papers exploded out of the folder, fluttering to the floor like snow.

"What did you do?" Javier asked. His voice was a low, terrifying whisper that promised absolute destruction.

Brenda stuttered, taking a step back. "She-she's a picky eater! It was just a sudden allergy, I swear I didn't-"

Javier let out a short, dark laugh. He rattled off the exact dates and amounts of three designer handbags Brenda had purchased using the black card.

Brenda's knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down her face as she began to beg loudly.

Javier didn't look down at her. "Call the lawyers," he ordered Cale. "Make sure she rots in a cell."

Cale grabbed the collar of Brenda's uniform. He dragged her down the hallway, her shoes scraping against the marble until her crying faded away.

Javier stood alone outside the door. He took a deep breath, forcing the violent rage out of his muscles. He pushed the door open.

The room was dim. The only sound was the steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

Javier walked to the edge of the bed. He looked down at Ella. A clear oxygen mask covered her face. She looked incredibly small, her skin a translucent, sickly pale. An IV needle was taped to the back of her bruised hand.

The muscle in Javier's jaw locked. His hands dropped to his sides, his fingers curling into tight fists until his knuckles turned white.

Ella's eyelashes fluttered. She slowly opened her eyes.

She saw the tall, dark figure standing over her. Her pupils dilated, and tears instantly flooded her eyes.

She reached up with her free hand. She grabbed the edge of the oxygen mask and yanked it down. The sudden movement pulled the IV line tight, causing a streak of dark blood to back up into the clear tube.

Javier leaned over instantly. His large hand clamped down on her shoulder, pinning her flat against the mattress with undeniable force.

"Do not move," Javier ordered. His voice was harsh, but a faint tremor hid beneath the command.

Ella didn't fight him. Instead, her fingers shot out and grabbed the bottom edge of his suit jacket. She gripped the wool fabric so hard her joints ached.

She tilted her head back, looking up at him. Tears spilled over her bottom lashes, running down her pale cheeks and soaking into the pillow.

"Please," she rasped, her voice weak and broken. "Don't give me to anyone else."

She twisted the fabric in her fist. It was the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

"Let me live with you," she begged. "I'll sleep in the basement. Just don't leave me with strangers."

Javier stared down at her white-knuckled grip on his coat. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, a sudden, inexplicable tightness seizing his chest as if the oxygen had been completely sucked out of the room. He forced his face to freeze into a mask of total indifference. He reached down and grabbed her wrist.

One by one, he pried her cold, stiff fingers off his jacket.

He stood up straight, putting three feet of physical distance between them. He looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice.

Javier put his hands behind his back. He could still feel the freezing temperature of her skin burning against his fingertips. He forced himself to turn around.

He faced the window, putting his back to the bed. "Your request is absurd," he stated, his voice a flat, bureaucratic drone.

"You are a young, single female. I am an adult male with no blood relation to you. Cohabitation is entirely inappropriate."

The word "inappropriate" hit Ella like a physical slap. The desperate light in her eyes died instantly. She turned her face away, staring blankly at the blank wall.

Javier didn't turn around to see the damage he had done. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a heavy silver pen.

He walked over to the small table in the corner. He grabbed a piece of hospital stationery and quickly wrote down a string of numbers.

He walked back to the bed and slid the paper under her plastic water cup. "This is a secure, encrypted line. It is active twenty-four hours a day."

He didn't wait for her to respond. He turned and walked out of the room. The heavy door clicked shut behind him.

The room fell dead silent. Ella stared at the ceiling. Hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, sliding down her temples and soaking into her hair.

The next afternoon, the door swung open. A young man with messy blond hair and a bright baseball jacket walked in.

"Hey! I'm Caleb Shepherd. Javier's cousin," he announced, dropping a massive, obnoxious bouquet of sunflowers onto the chair.

Caleb pulled up a stool. He pulled an apple and a pocket knife from his jacket and started peeling. "Javier is a robot. Don't let his cold act get to you."

Ella's tense muscles relaxed slightly at his easy, loud energy.

Caleb pointed the knife at the door. "The security on this floor is insane. He's guarding you like you're the President."

Ella's heart skipped a beat. She gripped the edge of her blanket. "Why is he doing this for me?"

Caleb stopped peeling. He let out a long breath. "Because of your mom. Elara."

He looked at Ella's confused face. "Elara was the Shepherd family's adopted daughter. Javier and her... they were close. He never got over her leaving."

The air punched out of Ella's lungs. Her chest tightened painfully. She wasn't special. She was just a replacement. A tool for his guilt.

A sick feeling of humiliation washed over her. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingernails digging into her palms.

After Caleb left, Ella sat alone in the quiet room. Her eyes locked onto the piece of paper trapped under the water cup.

Her hand trembled as she reached out and pulled the paper free. She stared at the numbers. The numbers that represented absolute power.

A sudden, reckless urge to test him flared in her chest. She picked up the plastic receiver of the hospital phone.

She punched in the numbers one by one. The line rang exactly once before it connected.

"Report," Javier's voice snapped through the speaker. It was sharp, cold, and ready for a national emergency.

Ella took a deep breath. She forced her voice to sound soft, yet completely entitled.

"Is anyone feeding Whisper?" she asked. "My cat. At the apartment."

Five seconds of absolute, dead silence stretched over the line. Ella could hear the faint sound of his breathing stop.

She braced herself for him to yell at her and hang up.

Instead, a very low, very tired sigh came through the speaker.

"Asset secure," Javier answered. His voice remained entirely flat, a cold, bureaucratic drone devoid of any human emotion. "Food supply meets standard requirements. It is alive."