Chapter 2: Prisoners of Luxury

The electronic hum of the deadbolt locking echoed with a devastating finality. Trev lunged for the door handle, rattling the heavy brass lever with frantic energy. It didn’t budge. He slammed his palm against the control panel, but the sleek touch screen was completely unresponsive.

"Trev, what’s happening?" Hannah asked, her voice trembling as she backed away from the door.

"She’s overridden the system," Trev grunted, pulling out his phone. He stared at the screen, his stomach dropping. "No signal. She’s jammed the network in the penthouse."

Hannah let out a choked gasp, sinking onto the edge of the plush velvet sofa. "She’s locked us in? She’s literally holding us hostage in your own apartment?"

"It’s her apartment, too," Trev reminded her grimly, pacing the length of the entryway. "The lease is in the company's name. Eleanor controls the building's security contract."

"So what do we do? We can't just sit here and wait for her to execute whatever sick plan she has!" Hannah’s voice pitched higher with hysteria. "I have a life, Trev! I have a career! If these photos leak, I’m destroyed. The gallery will fire me, my family will disown me..."

Trev stopped pacing and knelt in front of her, grasping her trembling hands. "I won't let that happen. Do you hear me? I will protect you."

"Protect me?" Hannah laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "You couldn't even protect your own secrets! You promised me we were careful. You told me the burner phones, the cash payments for the hotels, the aliases—you said it was foolproof!"

"It should have been!" Trev fired back, his own frustration boiling over. "I don't know how she bypassed the security protocols. Unless..." He paused, his eyes widening in sudden realization.

"Unless what?"

"Unless she didn't hire a PI," Trev said slowly, standing up and looking around the sprawling apartment as if seeing it for the first time. "Unless she didn't need to follow us."

Hannah frowned, wiping a tear from her cheek. "What are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Hannah. The photo from Milan. The one from the cabin in Aspen. What do they have in common?"

Hannah thought for a moment, her brow furrowing. "They were private. Completely isolated. There was no one else around."

"Exactly," Trev said, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "So how did someone get a clear, close-up shot of us inside a locked cabin in the middle of nowhere?"

Hannah’s eyes widened as the horrifying truth dawned on her. She looked up at the smoke detectors, the smart-home cameras they used to check on the apartment, the sleek television screen on the wall.

"The devices," she whispered, horrified. "Trev... did she hack your life?"

Before Trev could answer, the massive television screen in the living room flickered to life. Static hissed through the surround sound speakers, followed by a crisp, aristocratic voice that froze the blood in Trev’s veins.