Chapter 33

THIRTY-THREE

Bradleyand I walked back to our wing in silence. I had a multitude of things I wanted to say to him—millions of questions to ask him, comforting statements to say to him—but I took one look at him and knew that the best thing I could do was be silent and let him process the horrors he was faced with just moments ago.

We got back to my room and the door slid open. Bradley kept his eyes on the floor as I walked inside. "Bradley, will you come inside for a minute?" I asked quietly.

He didn't answer but took two steps forward as the door slid shut behind him.

His eyes lifted, and I could see the tinges of red from what had to be him doing everything in his power to not breakdown.

"What's her name?" I asked and put my palms out in between us.

Placing his hands into mine, he replied. "Daisy."

"Daisy… that's so pretty." I offered a small smile as he sighed and held my hands. "How can we save her?"

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Demi, I've been here for years, ever since Daisy was sold." He closed his eyes. "They hired me knowing I'd never leave because they told me if I tried anything, they'd slaughter her in front of my eyes. So, I stayed; I watched her suffer, I watched them torture her. But I also watched her breathe and knew she had a heartbeat."

"Who sold her?"

"My mom sold her to a man named Trent Smith. We're originally from Tennessee, and he's the largest trafficker in the state."

Trent… Smith?

"How… how is that possible?"

Bradley's forehead creased as his eyes drooped slightly. "Demi… none of this was a coincidence. Trent Smith works for Ian Ivory. Just like a butcher has an animal-supplier; Ian Ivory has a supplier for trafficked women."

Backing away from Bradley, I began to pant with my chest constricting. "No…" I shook my head with tears running down my cheeks. "I saw the ad, the listing. I applied for this job. Raina…" I paused, thinking about how Raina just so happened to be driving exactly where I was.

"Raina dropped that paper off to your motel room in hopes that'd make the process easier for you. Raina was paid to follow you and pick you up. Raina is basically the Ivory's adoptive daughter, and her husband Jax once worked here."

"How'd they escape? How did they manage to not tell anyone about what's happening here?"

"Demi, you just don't get it." Bradley rubbed his forehead as if it were aching. "It's not white-therapy; it's white-torture. We all went through it. You're the first they haven't done it to in years. For two years, we all lived in those sound-proof rooms, eating nothing but plain white food. No sounds, no color, no stimulation. It stripped us of emotion. It made us completely submissive and devoted to this family."

"But you don't seem submissive. You seem like you're just pretending so you could be here for Daisy?"

"I can't imagine leaving this place. I'm messed up, Demi. I wanted to help Daisy escape, but thought I'd probably stay here and work for the family. Because if they caught me, they'd put me back into a cage. No one speaks to you, you hear no noise, no sounds, you see no color or anything. They shave your head and put you in all-white. You stare at four white walls all day and eat white food so your senses are depleted."

Fear churned inside of me as my legs trembled and I forced myself to sit down. "Why do they do this?"

"Because they need staff. Loyal staff who will help them with their business. They sell these women as mail-order brides essentially, and their wait list is filled with the world's richest men. Each woman is guaranteed to be completely obedient, subservient, and designed to be exactly what that man wants. Each woman sells for one to three million dollars."

I couldn't believe my ears. This had to be some sick nightmare. I pinched my skin and flinched when my nails dug into my flesh hard enough for me to know this was reality.

"Trent… knows I'm here?" I began looking around the room wildly, terrified that the man who made me kill my sister was here waiting to kill me, too.

"Demi… you were sold to him. The reason they never hurt you was because you were always intended to come here. You were always intended to be a part of this family."

"I don't understand?" I placed my hand over my heart, praying it'd slow down.

"Trent has folders, too—binders full of the women he's bought from parents, kidnappers, and more. Conrad hand-selected you from a folder."

"Conrad?" I gasped.

"You've always been the favorite girl, just like Mrs. Ivory once was. You were chosen to marry Conrad Ivory—just like Dr. Ivory's father bought Mrs. Ivory for him—and eventually, the two of you will continue this family legacy."

I sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of everything. "What?"

"You're going to be the next Mrs. Ivory."

"Conrad picked me out of a binder?" I repeated the statement to myself.

"Yeah. He liked that you weren't pale, while his father hated you for your skin color. He prefers…"

"Only white people?" I filled in, looking up at Bradley.

"Green eyes, blonde hair, and white skin is the Ivory family specialty. Dr. Ivory believes that it continues the legacy. If the girls have brown hair, they dye it. If they don't have green eyes, well…" Bradley pinched at his eye and tugged the small contact out, "then they change that, too."

"Conrad wanted you. He thought you were breathtaking, which… you are, Demi." Bradley stared at me and moved closer, sitting next to me on the bed.

"But he wanted a tanned-skin woman with blonde hair. He also didn't want you to have green eyes, so they don't make you wear the contacts… yet. But as soon as you become his wife and eventually take over this… business, they'll make you wear them." Bradley tucked the short hair behind my ear. "For what it's worth, I liked your black hair," he said sadly.

"I'm not going to marry Conrad." I furrowed my brows and looked into Bradley's eyes. One eye was a light brown, while the other had a green contact in.

"You have to, Demi. If you don't, they'll cage and torture you. They'll torture you so badly that you'll wish you were dead or had just married him."

"If they are so big about submissive wives, then why aren't they caging me? Why aren't they forcing me to withstand white-torture?"

"Because Conrad told them he'd never take over the business if they did that to you. He said you were already submissive enough. You do everything you're told; you haven't run away. Sure, you called the police, but that doesn't mean anything. The police?—"

"Bradley! What are you doing in here?" Conrad's voice cut through the heavy conversation, stunning us both. Bradley jumped up and fastened his hands behind his back.

"Mr. Ivory," he bowed his head. They couldn't be more than a couple of years apart in age, yet Bradley was acting like Conrad was his boss.

But then again, wasn't he?

"Get out." Conrad's teeth gritted together as Bradley quickly moved out of my room. I looked at him once more before the door slid shut.

He tilted his head and looked at me with sheer sorrow.

"Did he touch you, Demi?" Conrad took Bradley's spot on the bed next to me. Instantly, I scooted back as I looked at the handsome man in front of me.

"Did you order me from a magazine to be your wife?"

Conrad looked like someone had slapped him across the face. "Demi… Bradley had no right, and he will be dealt with."

"No. You won't do anything to him!" I shouted and stood.

"Listen to me, Demi. I don't want my soon-to-be wife being a fucking whore. Did he touch you? Did he touch what's mine?" Conrad's eyes dropped below my waist as he shot up and grabbed my arm. I tried to wriggle out of his grip, disgusted that this man was even breathing the same air as me.

"He didn't do anything, and I'm not yours, you psycho." I tried to shove him off me, to no avail, and I bumped into the small vanity. Conrad gripped my wrists tightly between his hands and flung me onto the bed.

"If I don't see blood, I'll know you're a disgusting slut and ruined. If I don't see blood, you'll never become my wife; instead, I'll make sure you rot in the cages until you die, and then I'll give my father your bones for decoration."

I began pushing my feet against the bed, trying to sit up, but Conrad moved even faster, hovering over me. He unzipped his pants and looked at me with evil in his fake-green eyes.

"Don't do this, Conrad," I whimpered as he pressed his legs against mine, pinning me down.

"You know what… you're right. It shouldn't be this way. I'll have you prove yourself to me in front of your dear friend Bradley, in the holy room on the night of our nuptials. I think we will be pressing pause on Dr. Davenport's wedding; instead, tomorrow… you and I are going to be wed." Moving off me, Conrad adjusted himself and smiled.

"I can't wait for you to be my bride, Demi. And just to make sure you understand how this will go… well, if you don't smile on your way down the aisle to me and marry me tomorrow, I'll make sure Bradley and Daisy are tortured and murdered in front of you. I'll make sure that your next meal is the meat from their bones." Blowing an air kiss, he abruptly left the room, leaving me to crash my face into the pillow and sob hysterically. Nausea rose inside my body as I gagged and cried loudly.

Trent Smith was the man my parents sold Layla and me to for money they desperately needed for the survival to dig their way out of poverty. They didn't care about their two daughters, who were nothing more than burdens to them. They didn't care about the abuse or repercussions. I closed my eyes and saw Layla's crushed face. I could hear her wheezing, holding on to every last breath as her teeth cut through her bottom lip. I cried as I pictured myself violently stabbing her to make sure she was dead and freed from the pain Trent and our parents had succumbed her to. Her limbs were tangled and broken… her body wasn't hers. Sometimes setting someone else free means imprisoning yourself, and that's exactly what I had to do.

And now, I was going to marry Conrad Ivory. And I'd do whatever he wanted me to in order to protect Bradley and Daisy. Even if it meant I was going to be a caged girl in a different way.