Page 12 of Ivory Crown

“Focus, Jade,” I muttered to myself, trying to shake off the fog of isolation. But my stomach growled, derailing my thoughts with its primal demand for attention. Food—a basic need I’d neglected in my quest to peel back the layers of Dante’s fortress.

I reached for the mouse and clicked through to a food delivery site. Ramen noodles. How mundane, how wonderfully normal. I typed in the order without much hope; delivery to Dante’s penthouse was a long shot at best.

Half an hour later, the intercom in the kitchen crackled to life. I practically ran to it.

“Hi? Yes, bring the food up, please,” I said.

The voice came back, confused. “Miss, there’s no way to deliver this up to you.”

“Please, there must be some way,” I said, injecting a note of pleading into my voice. It felt wrong, manipulating the situation, but desperation didn’t play fair.

“You’ll have to come down here,” the delivery man said.

How could I tell him I literally wasn’t able to leave? How could I tell him I was trapped? There was no guarantee Dante wasn’t listening to me right then.

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m doing a time sensitive experiment.”

He sighed. “Uh, hold on. You’ll need to talk to the doorman.”

“Of course.” My heart hammered in my chest as I pressed the button to connect to the lobby. “This is Dr. Bentley. I’m…staying with Dante Moretti. Could you let the delivery man up? It’s... important research material.”

“Understood, Dr. Bentley,” the doorman’s voice was crisp, formal. A moment of silence, then, “I’ll make sure he uses the service elevator.”

A rush of adrenaline surged through me. Service elevator. Less guarded. A sliver of hope cut through the despair that had begun to take root in my mind. I released the talk button and leaned back, allowing myself a small smile.

“Thank you,” I whispered into the empty room, to the doorman, to the delivery man, to the universe that had just handed me a chance. All I needed now was a plan.

The doorbell’s chime shattered the silence, an alien sound echoing off the marble and glass. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before swinging the door open. Okay, good.

So there was a door. Of course there had to be a door. It looked like a

It just…didn’t look like a door. But that was where the knock had come from, so after palming the wall for a second, I found a hinge that I had thought was part of a wall bookshelf—because I was an idiot—and managed to pull it open.

The delivery man stood there, a steaming bag in his hand and an expectant look on his face.

“Dr. Bentley?” he asked, eyebrows raised as if the grandeur around him was a bit too much for a simple delivery.

“That’s me,” I confirmed, taking the bag with a brisk nod. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Uh, nice place,” he mumbled, glancing around before turning to leave.

I almost wanted to laugh at the understatement – ‘nice’ didn’t even begin to cover Dante’s penthouse. But my amusement was short-lived as I caught the departing figure of the delivery man enter the service elevator, the doors sliding shut behind him. My gaze lingered on the metal doors, a plan beginning to unfurl in my thoughts.

I retreated from the doorway, closing it softly behind me. My attention wasn’t on the noodles, their aroma now infusing the air, but on the gleaming panels of the service elevator across the room. And a door. A real door.

One I had access to.

I could just…walk out of here. I needed to be careful about it. It was a solid lead, a shadowy opportunity hidden in the bright daylight of my gilded prison.

I couldn’t just stroll through that door; it was clear as day. But knowledge was power, and I had just learned something crucial. There was another way out—a whisper of freedom—and I needed to grab it with both hands.

“Okay, Jade, think,” I muttered to myself, setting down the food without sparing it a glance. I picked up a pen and started scribbling notes on a nearby pad, each line a step closer to breathing free air again. The ramen cooled unnoticed, a casualty in my silent war for escape.

I sat on the plush sofa, a bowl of noodles nestled in my lap, feeling like an imposter amidst the grandeur that was never meant for me. From up here, the city was so quiet.

Nibbling on a noodle, I allowed myself a moment to appreciate its flavors—rich broth, tender chicken, spices that danced on my tongue. It was good, damn good, but it tasted even better knowing it could be one of the last meals standing between me and freedom. With every bite, I steadied my nerves. This wasn’t just food; this was fuel for the fight.

“Come on, Jade,” I whispered to the empty room, “you’ve cracked tougher codes than this.” My eyes drifted over the lavishness that caged me. A plan had begun to crystallize during the day’s careful observations. Dante might have built an empire on fear and power, but his fortress had cracks, and I was ready to slip through them.

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