Page 129 of The Tower

I let them fall into the trash without ceremony.

The car will be here any minute. I gather my things, a strange lightness at my neck, my shoulders. My head feels physically lighter, but something inside me feels lighter too, as if I’ve shed more than just hair.

As the car arrives, I take one final look at the beautiful house that briefly felt like home. The security. The peace. All built on lies.

I slide into the backseat, still numb from the betrayal, but also stronger somehow. “Reed Tower,” I tell the driver, choosing the one place Liam won’t expect.

As we pull away, I don’t look back. Tears will come later. Fury, too. And grief. For now, there’s just hollow emptiness where trust once lived.

He saw me, all right. Saw every part of me without consent. All this time, I thought I was finally being truly seen, truly understood.

Instead, I was being watched. Again. Still. Always.

The tower may change, but the princess always remains trapped.

Not anymore.

Thirty-Nine

Return

Reed Tower looms before me, a gleaming monument to my father’s ego—and, I now know, my mother’s vision. The familiar façade, once a prison, now represents something more complicated. A past I can’t escape, a legacy I’m not sure I want, and yet still the only place that has ever truly been mine, however tarnished it might be from years under my father’s control.

“Welcome back, Ms. Reed,” the doorman says, genuine warmth in his greeting. Ruby had told me that news of my father’s abuse had spread throughout the staff. She was right, and I’m grateful for the sympathy and support.

The private elevator whisks me upward, my stomach dropping in a way that has nothing to do with the rapid ascent. What am I doing here? This is the last place I should seek refuge, the physical manifestation of everything I’ve been fighting to escape.

And yet, as the doors slide open to reveal my suite, a delicious sense of familiarity washes over me. This space, at least, was mine. Whatever my father did, however he controlled me, this sanctuary was where I created Elysium, where I dreamed of freedom.

Where I was secretly watched by the man I thought had saved me.

The bitterness of the irony is enough to choke on. Escaping one captor only to fall into the arms of another.

I drop my bag by the door and move through the rooms, seeing them with new eyes. The elegant furnishings, the tasteful art—all carefully selected to create the illusion of autonomy while maintaining my father’s aesthetic control. Like Liam’s Connecticut house, beautiful but ultimately designed for someone else’s purposes.

I scoff. I could choke on the irony. I’ve gone from one controlling man to another. From being my father’s puppet to Liam’s weapon. Both men making decisions for me.

Had I really once told Liam that he’s nothing like my father? I’d believed it then. Now, I’m not so sure. Hadn’t they both made decisions for me without even asking what I thought? Hadn’t they both lied to me? My father about who killed my mother, and Liam about Elysium?

My father may have kept me tethered with drugs and manipulation, but wasn’t Liam manipulating me every moment he failed to mention that he’d been watching me—hell, fucking me—in Elysium?

My sanctuary that wasn’t a sanctuary at all. My private world that had been invaded without my knowledge or consent.

The violation cuts deeper than I could have imagined. It’s not just about privacy—it’s about trust, about believing that for once in my life, someone saw the real me, not the image they wanted to see.

That Liam Grimm, of all people, did this to me …

But why should I be surprised? I knew his reputation going in. I’d just let myself forget it.

The tears finally come, hot and fierce, pouring down my face in a torrent I can’t control. I sob until my throat is raw, until my eyes burn, until there’s nothing left but a hollow ache where my heart should be.

When the storm passes, I’m left exhausted but clearer. I won’t stay here—not in Reed Tower, not in my father’s shadow. But I needed this moment, this return, to understand that I can’t go backward. Whatever comes next, it has to be something new, something built on my own terms.

Sleep claims me eventually, curled on the studio couch where I’d spent so many nights before, lost in the creation of a world that was never as private as I believed.

A soft knock pulls me from restless dreams. I blink awake, disoriented. For a moment, I expect to see the Connecticut house ceiling and feel Liam’s arm draped across my waist.

Then reality crashes back.