Chapter 3 - The TyrantsRyan believed the house belonged to him.
Not legally.
Not morally.
But psychologically.
He had created his own kingdom inside those four walls.
Ryan was Eleanor's nephew, a broad-shouldered man in his thirties with restless eyes and a permanent expression of contempt.
When he first arrived, he had called himself a caretaker.
He told Eleanor he was there to protect her.
He promised to handle the bills.
He promised to make repairs.
He promised she would never be alone.
Within months, the promises disappeared.
So did Eleanor's freedom.
Ryan began controlling her money.
Then her phone.
Then her meals.
Eventually, he moved the cage into the front yard.
Chloe, his girlfriend, encouraged everything.
She loved the house.
She loved the expensive furniture.
She loved imagining herself living there permanently.
Most of all, she loved the idea that Eleanor's death would eventually make everything theirs.
That afternoon, Chloe stood beside Ryan wearing designer sunglasses and ripped jeans.
She glanced toward the cage.
"She's still alive?"
Ryan laughed.
"Unfortunately."
Neither of them noticed the way Eleanor's eyes followed them.
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She had learned something important.
Cruel people became careless when they believed they had already won.
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