Freedom tasted like cold night air, sharp and exhilarating on Elara’s tongue. Every breath felt like a stolen victory. Lucian’s words, a chilling promise to return before dawn, echoed in her mind, but for now, she was out. Moving quickly, she hailed a taxi, her heart thrumming with a mix of fear and desperate purpose. She gave a generic address, a bustling downtown area, far from the Vane penthouse. Stepping out, the city’s pulse enveloped her. Neon signs blurred. Horns blared. People flowed around her like a living river. She melted into the crowd, feeling invisible, yet intensely alive. Her first priority: information. She needed to understand Lucian, his past, anything that could explain the cages he built. Finding an internet café, a relic in the age of omnipresent smartphones, proved surprisingly easy. Its dim lighting offered a welcome anonymity. She paid for an hour, the old keyboard clacking under her fingers. Typing Lucian Vane’s name felt like an act of rebellion. His public profile was polished, formidable. CEO of Vane Industries. Philanthropist. Unmarried. No immediate family mentioned. This wasn't enough. She needed more than the curated facade. Remembering the green shade that had shattered his composure, she felt a cold certainty. There was a deeper wound. She started digging. Keyword after keyword. “Lucian Vane family.” “Vane Industries history.” “Notable Vane tragedies.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard, fueled by adrenaline. Minutes stretched. Most results were corporate filings, glowing interviews. Then, a flicker. An old forum post. A mention of a “Vane family incident” years ago, quickly brushed under the rug. Her eyes narrowed. This was it. She clicked the link, her breath catching in her throat. The forum thread was short, speculation mostly, but it pointed to an archived news database. Navigating the clunky interface, she entered new search terms:

Chapter 16: Shadows of the Past