Chapter 36

THIRTY-SIX

Conrad was waitingoutside the room for me when the door opened. He was wearing a designer tuxedo, and although I didn't want to admit it, he looked extremely handsome—like the kind of handsome that made you forget what he was capable of.

"Demi, wow…" he breathed as I looked at the floor. Becca had left my hair in the sleek, simple bun but put a hefty amount of makeup on my face. I was wearing a fitted, short white dress, covered in tiny pearls.

I missed color. I never realized how much color my life had before it was stripped away, and I was living a life of blinding white and pain.

"Demi, sweetheart, listen… I'm so sorry about the garden. I'm so sorry about… I didn't mean to scare you, my love." Conrad came closer and I took a few steps backward. My back hit the wall and he caged me in with his arms.

"I know this is hard for you to believe, but your life as my wife is going to change significantly, and you're going to be living a life of luxury. We're going to be a family." Conrad leaned in and kissed my neck. I immediately turned my head the other way, praying I wouldn't breathe in his air.

"Baby, we're going to be married soon, and I cannot wait to have you. All of you…" he whispered into my ear before biting my earlobe. I let out a small whimper, slamming my eyes shut while reliving his father doing the exact same thing to me.

A voice cleared behind Conrad, forcing him off me.

"Of course, it'd be irritating Bradley," Conrad said with exasperation.

"Dr. and Mrs. Ivory asked for me to retrieve you both." His eyes lingered on me an extra moment, doing a quick sweep. When I met his gaze, his eyes were full of defeat.

He looked even more handsome than Conrad, wearing a white tuxedo and his hair slightly messy across his forehead. It was losing the stark blonde shade it was when we first met, and I found myself wondering what his natural hair color was.

"I can't wait for you to be out of here." Conrad looped his arm into mine and dragged me past Bradley.

Glancing over my shoulder, my chest tightened. Bradley was leaving?

Once we walked what felt like ten miles in the damn, sponge-like shoes, we entered a large space I'd never been to before. Tables lined the back of the room but at the front were two rows of pews. The room was decorated with creams, whites, and the only other color was a hint of blush-pink from the peony centerpieces. My stomach tumbled as I realized the peonies were being grown on what had to be a cemetery. The finger…? There had to be a body somewhere in the garden. Swallowing the stomach acid that began to inch its way into my esophagus and mouth, I focused on my breathing.

"Come, my love." Conrad tugged my hand to take a seat next to his parents. Dr. Ivory looked over at me and licked his lips while his eyes slowly studied my entire body. Hiding behind Conrad, I quickly sank down next to him, and Bradley took the seat beside me.

He had a front row seat to his sister's wedding. A wedding she didn't want; a wedding he couldn't stop.

The opposing two sets of pews began to fill with older men, who all smiled enthusiastically. I peered at them, noticing they all held binders and highlighters as they settled into their seats.

"Who are they?" I mumbled under my breath, directing the question to Bradley. But he didn't answer me. His eyes were fixed on the front of the space, where a small arch was covered in tiny fairy lights and tulle.

Conrad wrapped his arm around me and said into my ear, "They are our most elite buyers, sweetie."

Buyers? And just like that, soft music began to play, and one-by-one, bridesmaids wearing identical long white gowns began walking in with peony bouquets in their hands.

But they weren't just women; they were the caged girls. Their heads were completely shaved, their bodies frail, collarbones protruding and eyes desolate.

Mrs. Ivory gasped with pride as they lined up in front of the arch. The men in the pews were mumbling to one another, pointing at images in their binders. I squinted and leaned closer to Bradley, hoping to catch a glimpse.

It was the same binder the man Daisy would be marrying had.

Make, model, year. Hairstyles, eye colors, and every single other detail in order for these men to take these women and build their own bride. My hands shook as I watched them eye the girls hungrily.

The lights dimmed and the music shifted as an older man walked down the aisle. "Mason looks dapper, doesn't he?" Mrs. Ivory whispered with a smile. The man had to be in his sixties, and I knew with certainty that Daisy was no more than nineteen years old.

His wrinkled face beamed with joy as he nodded at Dr. Ivory and took his place under the arch.

A moment later, Dr. Ivory stood and walked to join him. He was wearing a strange white caftan over white slacks and a shawl over his shoulders with a religious symbol in gold.

He's going to officiate the wedding?

Mrs. Ivory leaned in and whispered, "Bradley, I don't know what's taking her so long. Go and retrieve her and walk her down the aisle. This must be the proudest moment of your life."

A wave of doom washed over me as I watched Bradley stand and leave. How could this be happening? Please, let Daisy have miraculously escaped. Please, please…

Time stood still as my eyes blurred and my palms grew moist. The anticipation of what was coming had a grip around my neck.

"Oh, my heavens…she's a vision!" Mrs. Ivory exclaimed. I turned in the pew and, in that moment, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

They say the only way to overcome pain is to feel it. But in this moment, I prayed that the pain I felt for Bradley and Daisy was enough for them to not endure it.

Daisy was wearing a fitted wedding gown. She wore a long blonde wig, that I knew Mason, her groom, had selected. Designing his perfect woman was part of the process, but she wasn't a woman. She was just a girl—an innocent life that would never get to truly live.

Bradley had his arm intertwined with his little sister's and walked so slow, it didn't even seem like they were moving. As soon as they reached the pews, Daisy's face changed. She looked over at us and smiled.

She smiled so big, I could have sworn she was actually happy. But I knew the truth. Sometimes it's not the number of tears we shed that measure our pain… sometimes it's the number of smiles we forge.

She looked back at her older brother and gave him a look of reassurance, but he saw right through it. As soon as they reached Mason and Dr. Ivory, Bradley clutched his sister's arm tighter.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" Dr. Ivory boasted loudly. The girls, or bridesmaids, all shook slightly at his voice. And it occurred to me, this was the first time they were hearing noise. The first time they were seeing more than white walls. Each of them had smiles plastered onto their faces, but unlike Daisy, theirs weren't fake or forced. Theirs were genuine. In some sick way, this was freedom to them. This was a happy place and event.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" Dr. Ivory repeated. Bradley looked down at his sister, his eyes tinged with red as one single tear rolled down his cheek, crushing my soul.

"Me. Her older brother." His voice cracked as he said the four simple words that had to have destroyed him.

Daisy gave him a quick hug before eagerly placing her hands into Mason's. If I didn't know the back story, I'd have assumed this was an actual love-based marriage. That this was one of those mega age-gap stories—maybe the girl had some daddy issues, or maybe he was filthy rich and she was a gold digger—but here, I knew. I knew this was the most disturbing, forced marriage in which Daisy was completely brainwashed to become submissive through torture and abuse.

Bradley turned and sat back down next to me, and the room grew even darker. The only light was now on Daisy and Mason as Dr. Ivory read some scriptures. Looking down at Bradley's hands, I saw them tremble. It was the first time I saw him scared. And it frightened me.

Reaching over, I snuck my hand into his and squeezed. Another tear rolled down his face, and I wished so badly that I could wipe it away. But more than that, I wished I could wipe away the cause of the tears.