The brand-new tablet lay quietly on the table, its cold metal casing reflecting the simulated, artificial moonlight in the room, like a fragment from an unknown world, abruptly appearing in this exquisitely luxurious yet lifeless cage. Isabella White's gaze was glued to it, her heart beating out of rhythm in her chest, mixed with caution, suspicion, and an uncontrollable, humble yearning.
He gave it to her? Alexander Kane—the man who, moments ago, had coldly declared that she was his "possession"—now, yet, bestowed upon her a window to the outside world?
What was this? A consolation? A reward for "behaving" today and not continuing her hunger strike? Or some more exquisite psychological experiment to observe her reactions?
Isabella's fingers curled slightly, her nails unconsciously scratching the soft fabric of her loungewear. She slowly, extremely cautiously, approached the table, as if the tablet were a beautiful trap—one misstep and she would fall into irreparable ruin.
She extended a slightly trembling finger and touched the screen. The screen lit up instantly, displaying a simple interface. Sure enough, there was no common app store, no browser icon, only a few built-in applications: a news feed, an e-book library, a film library, and settings.
Each application required a simple permission verification to enter, and the network status displayed "Internal Secure Network."
Despite the heavy restrictions, for someone who had been completely cut off from the world for days, this was still a drop of sweet water in the desert. Isabella took a deep breath and first opened the news feed.
What appeared were almost entirely positive reports about the Kane Group: a major technological breakthrough, a charitable donation, steady stock price growth… Social news had also been carefully filtered, mundane and unremarkable. She tried to search for "Windsor Group" or "Olivia Windsor," but it showed "No relevant results" or "Permission denied." As for the news of the Pus District CEO replacement, there was not a single word, as if the bloody purge at the top had never occurred.
A sense of powerlessness swept over her again. She was still living inside the information cocoon he had meticulously constructed.
She exited and opened the e-book library. The collection was impressive, covering literature, history, science, art… even some light popular novels. But looking closely at the categories, all books related to law, sociology, especially Omega rights movements or ABO equality, were completely absent. The film library was similar: mostly old movies, landscape documentaries, some well-reviewed commercial films and animations. Any content that might inspire rebellious thought or provide ideas for escape had been meticulously removed.
Isabella leaned back in her chair. The faint glimmer that had just ignited in her emerald eyes dimmed again. She felt like a butterfly trapped under a glass dome; what he allowed her to see would always be only the sky he wanted her to see.
Frustrated, she swiped the screen and accidentally opened a documentary about polar landscapes. Cold glaciers, vast starry skies, solitary auroras… The visuals were magnificent yet carried a bone-chilling sense of coldness and detachment, eerily mirroring her current state of mind.
As she watched, her gaze became somewhat unfocused. The scientists' arduous yet purposeful lives in the documentary—their efforts to explore the unknown—pierced her heart. She had once dreamed of using her computer skills to do something meaningful, rather than now, being a caged canary.
At that moment, the suite's door was lightly knocked, and David entered, carrying a dinner tray.
The dinner was noticeably more thoughtful than before, no longer a uniform luxurious style, but rather dishes that looked homelier and warmer: a bowl of fragrant vegetable cream soup, a small portion of perfectly roasted salmon with asparagus, and even a small piece of soft, appetizing cheesecake. Beside the cutlery, there was also a small cup of warm herbal tea, emitting a calming aroma.
David arranged the plates and, without intention, his gaze swept over the tablet screen on the table, noticing the polar documentary. His movement almost imperceptibly paused for 0.1 seconds.
"Miss Isabella, please enjoy your meal." His tone was as usual, but there seemed to be an indescribable… warmth?
Isabella did not move, only lifted her head to look at him and suddenly asked, "Mr. David, how long have you been working for Mr. Kane?"
David seemed unprepared for the sudden question. Pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses, he replied, "Ten years and four months."
"Ten years…" Isabella murmured, her emerald eyes staring at him. "Have you ever seen the aurora outside? The real aurora."
David was silent for a moment, then answered cautiously, "Once, on a business trip, on Aisley Island."
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Isabella's voice carried a faint sense of longing, tinged with slight bitterness. "Isn't it… very free?"
David did not answer the question. He only slightly nodded: "Food is best eaten while hot. Mr. Kane instructed that today's inhibitor has been slightly adjusted; it may make you feel a little more comfortable." He skillfully diverted the topic but did not leave immediately.
Isabella looked at the food in front of her, then at the cold polar scenery on the tablet, and thought of the slightly adjusted inhibitor, unsure if it was a blessing or a curse. A complex emotion surged in her chest. She picked up the spoon and silently began to drink the soup.
The soup tasted very good, warmly soothing her cold stomach. She ate slowly, but this time, it was no longer purely mechanical swallowing.
David quietly stood by. When she had almost finished, he spoke again: "If you are interested in natural science, there is a collection of National Geographic authorized documentaries in the library, of very high quality. There are also some classic space exploration series in the film library." He mentioned it casually, and after speaking, picked up the empty plate, slightly bowed, and left.
After the door closed, Isabella was stunned for a moment. Was David… hinting at something? National Geographic? Space exploration? These seemed more suitable than the cold polar scenes for passing the time, and also… more neutral, less likely to trigger negative emotions.
She put down the spoon and immediately opened the e-book and film libraries, searching for the content David mentioned. Sure enough, she found it easily. She opened a documentary about Mars exploration—the vast universe, human courage and wisdom—temporarily pulling her out of the narrow confines of her cage-like thoughts.
Although it was still content she was permitted to watch, at least she now had a slight illusion of choice. This tiny illusion, like a small spark, temporarily warmed her almost frozen heart.
What she did not know was that in the study's surveillance feed, Alexander Kane was watching the small figure curled on the sofa, holding the tablet, absorbed in the screen.
She had changed into soft light-gray loungewear after showering. Her damp chestnut hair hung casually over her shoulders, with a few strands stuck to her fair cheek. The light from the screen reflected in her focused emerald eyes, as if capturing the stars. She watched so intently, even slightly parting her lips, revealing a hint of childlike curiosity. The bandage on her ankle was still conspicuous, making her look even more fragile, needing protection.
Kane's gaze lingered on her face for a long time. He noticed that she seemed slightly more relaxed than before; the fear and stubbornness that always seemed to be frozen between her brows had softened a little. Was it because of those documentaries? Or… because of the slightly adjusted inhibitor?
He had instructed the dosage adjustment simply to prevent her from resisting excessively due to physical discomfort, which might affect the stability of her pheromones and the "effectiveness" of the drug. But seeing her now, looking somewhat calm and even… a little cute, the violent resentment in his heart, accumulated from dealing with the mess in the Pus District and Olivia's farce, seemed to be silently soothed.
This uncontrolled sense of calm, caused by her, made him both obsessed and cautious.
He turned off the surveillance feed and forced himself to refocus on the mountain of documents before him: one was a ruthless plan for thoroughly reorganizing Asia-Pacific operations, and the other was a scheme for further suppressing the Windsor family, making them pay a heavy price for Olivia's foolish actions. His annotations were cold and precise, cutting to the bone; every decision affected the fate and wealth of countless people.
He was the uncrowned king of Star City, accustomed to controlling everything with absolute power and cold logic, including the Omega who was now watching a space documentary, eyes shining.
He controlled her body, her pheromones, the world she could see. He thought that was everything.
But he did not see, beneath that seemingly calm and obedient exterior, behind the slightly alleviated physical discomfort, the spark deep in Isabella's heart, reignited by exposure to "knowledge" and "exploration," a flame of freedom and self.
She watched the rocket launch on the screen, breaking free from Earth's gravity, her fingers tightening unconsciously.
Someday… she silently vowed in her heart, looking at the vaporized, fake night sky outside the window… someday, she would also break free from this gravity-like restraint.
The light from the tablet illuminated the deep corner of her eyes, where that flame, far from extinguished, burned even more stubbornly after glimpsing the broader world.