Page 57 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

Afterward, we lie tangled together, my head on his chest, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on my back. Neither of us speaks. There’s no need. The words have been said by our bodies. By the twining of our souls.

When sleep finally claims us, I feel a peace I’ve never known before, along with the certainty that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.

Morning comes, and Liam heads to the city for meetings, promising to return by dinner. I lose myself in Elysium updates, tweaking environments, testing new modules. Revising protocols.

Time slips sideways, and suddenly it’s mid-afternoon, my muscles stiff from hunching over the keyboard.

The security panel chimes, announcing a car at the gate. Not Liam’s new Audi or Ruby’s ancient Volvo. I check the camera feed and see only a sleek black sedan. I’m about to pick up the on-property phone when it rings.

“A Maya Lane would like to see you.” It’s Curtis, one of the five guards who work the perimeter and the gatehouse. “She says it’s urgent.”

My first instinct is to deny entry and protect our sanctuary. But curiosity wins. “Escort Ms. Lane to the house,” I tell him. “I’ll meet her outside.”

I choose the front terrace—neutral ground, security in sight but private enough for conversation. Spring sunshine dapples through maple leaves, and the breeze carries hints of pine and wildflowers. Far too beautiful a day for the ugliness I suspect is coming.

Maya steps from the car looking runway-ready—tailored pants, silk blouse, that mauve scarf. Curtis hangs back as she approaches.

“Sasha.” Her smile stops short of her eyes. “Lovely property,” she says, and I feel a stab of victory in the realization that Grimm never brought her here.

“Maya.” I keep my voice neutral. “Unexpected visit.”

“I imagine so.” She settles uninvited into a terrace chair, crossing those endless legs. “Though perhaps it shouldn’t be.”

I take the seat opposite, keeping my distance. “What brings you here?”

She studies me, head tilted like I’m a puzzle she’s solving. “When Liam first mentioned you, I dismissed you as nothing more than Daddy’s dress-up dolly.”

I wait, silent.

“But you’re more, aren’t you?” She leans forward. “Quite brilliant, actually. Elysium proves that.”

My creation’s name on her lips sends ice through my veins. “How do you know about Elysium?”

Her smile widens, turns predatory. “Oh, I know quite a bit. About Elysium. About Vale.” She leans closer. “About how long Liam’s been watching you there.”

The world tilts beneath me, her words reshaping reality. “Go on.”

She leans back, looking smug. “So I was right. He never told you.”

I force myself to stay cool. To keep all emotion off my face. As if I’m at a photoshoot, and the art director has told me that all he wants is my face as a neutral, unreadable canvas.

Inside, I’m already dying, terrified of the words still to come.

“Liam’s clever, too. You probably know that, but you might not understand the genius of the man who founded RSC. It’s fascinating how supremely skilled that man is at finding his way in and out of all the little gopher holes hidden in the dark corners of the internet.

She pauses, as if waiting for me to say something. But I can barely think, much less form words.

“He’s been watching everything,” she continues. “Your private moments, your fantasies, your hidden self.” Her voice softens, mockingly gentle. “For at least three years he watched you. He’s very good, you know. Always finding ways into systems that don’t want him there.”

She leans back, as if just getting comfortable.

“He didn’t mean to tell me. I think he wanted to keep it his dirty little secret.

The way he—shall we say— fleshed out Prince Killiam.

But he hired me for my skills. And I’m a curious sort.

To be honest, I haven’t seen it all. Your security is excellent.

But I’ve seen enough to be impressed. And to find his entry points. ”

Once again, her smile drips honey as bits and pieces lock into horrifying place. Liam’s instant grasp of Elysium when I showed him. His lack of surprise at its complexity. His too-perfect understanding of its architecture.

I’d thought it was because of his skill in cyber tech. And it was—because that skill is what had already given him an up-close-and personal look at my very private world.

She shrugs, all casual and light. “He has no idea I’m privy to his dirty little secret.

But since you two are getting so cozy, I thought you should know.

Girl Code, right?” Her smile is like baring fangs.

“It’s just that Liam does whatever he deems necessary, regardless of collateral damage. He always has.”

I just look at her, saying nothing.

She clears her throat. “I probably should have said something to you earlier. After all, it’s been going on for three years, give or take.” Maya inspects her manicure, casually gleeful in the wake of this bomb she’s dropped.

“I think it started as opposition research. Know thy enemy’s daughter—that sort of thing. But it became something quite different.”

Three years. Him watching my only private space. My sanctuary. The one corner of the world where I could truly be myself, free from eyes, free from judgment.

All along, he was there. Watching. Invading.

I think of Prince Killiam whose face was hidden for so long. The lover who anticipated my desires before I voiced them. The man who pushed boundaries I hadn’t known I wanted pushed, who claimed me in ways both terrifying and thrilling.

Liam. It was Liam all along.

I stand abruptly, needing space, air, escape from this crushing revelation.

I force a laugh and a smile. “I’m so sorry you wasted your time, but at least the drive’s pretty.”

“Wasted my time?”

“Liam told me all of that before the hearing. He said he couldn’t bear me not knowing the truth.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I can’t tell if she believes me or not.

I’m not sure I care.

Right now, I just want her gone.

“Well, then,” she says, “I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”

“No trouble. But I have work to do, so please forgive me for not inviting you in.”

“Of course,” she says, and I take a bit of glee in the fact that she looks just a bit unstable. I keep my chin up, ironically calling on skills I learned as my father’s little puppet about reflecting one emotion to the world, while keeping your true turmoil locked up inside.

“Well,” she finally says. “Then I’m off.”

“I’ll give Liam your regards,” I say, then stand frozen until her car disappears down the drive. Only then do I move, mechanical steps carrying me inside, to the bedroom we’ve shared.

The room feels wrong now, tainted. I look around what I’d thought was a haven, seeing it through new eyes—a new cage built by a man who violated my privacy in the most basic way.

I pack methodically, gathering the few things that are truly mine.

Just clothes, the laptop he gave me, notes for Elysium’s expansion.

I leave the jewelry, designer clothes, art supplies.

Even the canvases I’ve painted and the sketches I’ve drawn in our days here.

They feel contaminated now. Everything does.

I call for a car, and while I’m waiting, I write one note—blunt and unambiguous.

I know about Elysium.

I know about Prince Killiam.

Do not come after me.

I place the note on the counter, fingers lingering on the paper as I remember the scissors I’d noticed next to the notepad. Something shifts inside me. Not just betrayal now—something harder, colder. Rage, maybe. Or determination.

I grab the scissors and move to the bathroom without conscious thought, flipping on the harsh lights, confronting my reflection.

The woman staring back looks like me but feels like a stranger—too trusting, too easily deceived.

Liam’s words echo in my head: “God, I love your hair. It’s like spun gold.

” He’d say it while winding strands around his fingers, tugging gently to tilt my face up for a kiss.

How many times had his hands tangled in it as we made love?

How many times had he watched me in Elysium, where I’d sometimes let Vale’s golden hair flow free in the wind as she rode?

My fingers twist in the long strands, pulling them taut. One cut. Then another. Golden locks fall into the sink, onto the floor. Each snip of the scissors feels like severing a cord that bound me to him. To the lie.

The first cuts are jagged, angry. But something shifts as I work, my movements becoming more deliberate. I’m not destroying—I’m creating. Each cut precise now, shaping what remains into something new. Something mine.

When I finish, my hair barely brushes my shoulders, the ends uneven but purposeful. I look younger. No—I look different. Like someone I haven’t met yet but might like to know.

I sweep the fallen strands into my palm, golden threads that represented the woman he thought he owned. The princess in her 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.