Chapter 41

FORTY-ONE

The car drovedown the winding driveway, and I could see Bradley look over through the back window.

I walked back inside with Ian, Daphne, and Conrad. If a neighbor had been out walking their dog or pushing a stroller, they'd assume a beautiful family was spending quality time together. They'd probably even be envious of us donning matching, beautiful, designer clothing. A gorgeous set of two couples casually going into a sprawling estate.

But behind these giant, double doors laid a haunted house full of death and prisoners. This wasn't a house, it was a morgue.

"The house feels so much lighter, almost brighter. Wouldn't you agree, Father?" Conrad followed behind Ian to the golden bar cart in the corner of the room. I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

"It truly does," Dr. Ivory agreed as Conrad handed him a glass of whiskey.

"You won't miss him, Ian? Bradley's been with our family for years. It'll be strange not having him around. Granted, he will return for the wedding." Daphne sighed as she sank into the accent chair and brushed her hands across her white pleated skirt.

"Of course, we'll miss him. I'm not a heartless monster, Daphne," he said with complete seriousness as he took a seat next to his wife.

"Come sit with us, Demi. Why are you standing there like the damn maid?" Conrad barked at me.

"Well, she was hired to be the maid." Ian let out a dry laugh.

"It was simply to get my bride to us. She's not the maid," Conrad fired back at his dad. Wow, he was defending me? My hero. I rolled my eyes as I sat with them.

"Demi, we are going to do your bridal gown fitting in the morning. Make sure you get plenty of sleep, and then you'll even get to select the bridesmaid's dresses just in case we let you have them. We're going to go to the best bridal boutique in Charlotte tomorrow," Mrs. Ivory said, delighted.

I sat up immediately. "Wait, we're going to leave the house?"

"Well, of course, we are. We have an entire girls' day planned, darling," Mrs. Ivory chirped as she smiled. "We have five days until the wedding. I always thought we'd have slightly more time, but now we know Conrad is in dire need of a woman's touch. Clearly." She glanced over at her son.

Cringing inside, I knew she was referring to the fact that Conrad had attacked Daisy and then almost did the same to me. She was implying that he needed his wife to relieve him so he wouldn't go around assaulting women in front of an audience out of spite.

"Speaking of…" Ian cleared his throat and handed a small box over to Conrad, who set his glass down.

Walking toward me with the black velvet box in his hands, Conrad dropped to one knee.

Oh no.

Mrs. Ivory gasped and flung her hand over her mouth, as if she was completely surprised by the clearly staged, gut-wrenching proposal. I didn't think I had ever thought about this moment in my life. Maybe because I knew a girl like me would never have a prince charming riding in on a white horse to save me from the fire-breathing dragons. Maybe because I always knew the only way someone would be on their knees in front of me was if he were the villain.

"Demi Rao, you have taken my breath away since the very first time I laid eyes on your photograph. I remember so clearly flipping through the pages of the…" He paused and flicked his eyes to his dad, who shook his head. "I remember all the girls were blurring together. Boring, dreadful, bland… but then you were a vision. I knew the only way I'd want to improve my bride-to-be was simply by altering your hair, and now look at you. You're perfect." Conrad cracked the box open, and I couldn't help but widen my eyes at the massive stone in front of me. It was a massive, emerald-cut diamond solitaire on a thin gold band.

"Demi, will you do me the greatest honor of my life and marry me?" Conrad flashed his pearly white teeth at me, and for a moment, I tilted my head and thought how many women in the world must dream of this moment.

I wanted to say no and slap him. I wanted to spit on his face and storm out of here. But I knew they'd hunt me down and gut me—and worse, they'd hurt him.

They'd kill Bradley and make me watch. My stomach curled as I thought of my finger having to carry the weight of this ring being from this disgusting scum of a man. But, I knew better. I knew that I was a girl without choices. I knew there weren't multiple choices here. So, I sucked in a breath of air and looked at my shaking fingers.

"Yes," I whispered so low that I hoped in some way I wouldn't hear it so I wouldn't have to think of myself as the most pathetic human in the planet.

Clapping and laughter erupted around us as Conrad yanked my hand and slid the massive stone onto my finger. Standing, he pulled me into his arms and forced a sloppy kiss across my lips.

"Say cheese!" Dr. Ivory held a camera up and took a photo. The bright flash blinded me temporarily, and as I opened my eyes again, I could see her.

My sweet sister, laying in her own blood, watching me sadly as I held a knife in my clammy hands to put her out of her misery. She'd be heartbroken that this was why she died.

But then, as I thought of my sister, while the clicking of Ian Ivory's camera sounded in the background, it occurred to me.

My sister told me to run away to Charlotte, North Carolina. She specifically made it clear that I would make it here. A sick feeling in my stomach rippled through as panic set in.

Did my sister send me into a death trap?

I looked at the Ivory family—the three were chattering away, eyeing me periodically—and suddenly, the weight of the ring on my finger felt heavier. It felt like it was burning.

But then as I looked at the large stone on my finger and my skin growing red underneath the band, I realized it didn't just feel like it was burning.

It was burning.

Letting out a distressed scream, I tried to tug the fitted ring off my finger as my skin began to peel and burn underneath.

"Ah!" I cried out as I finally got it off and saw a reddened circle around my finger.

"What the hell?" I was breathing heavily as Conrad slowly dragged his feet toward me.

Lifting my hand up, he smiled at the flaking skin. Pressing his lips against the new wound, he sighed. "An Ivory tradition, sweetheart. Now, we're bound together, skin-deep." He looked at me proudly… possessively.

"You did this on purpose?" Jerking my hand out from his, I looked over his shoulder at his attentive parents.

"Demi, darling, it's a tradition. I, too, went through it. It's actually romantic." Mrs. Ivory lifted her overly drawn-in eyebrow.

"Why don't we all head to bed? Just wrap your finger in a Band-Aid and put the ring back on. Just wash it before you do since it's still coated with hydrofluoric acid. Only a slight amount, though." Dr. Ivory put his arm around his wife as they all looked at my finger, which resembled peeling, reddened leather.

I stood there, not knowing how I wasn't even in shock. This was the least shocking thing that had happened to me here. Of course, my fiancé would attempt to burn my finger off. Conrad shoved his hand around mine and tugged me out of the room. I didn't care where he was taking me. Secretly, I was hoping he'd push me off of a cliff and put me out of my misery.

"You'll no longer be staying in the servant's quarters. You'll stay in here, and in a few short days, you'll move to my floor with me." He smiled down at me.

"Don't you have to go back to medical school soon?"

"Yes, remember? I have to go back, my love, but we have time for the wedding, a honeymoon, and plenty of… well, baby-making before I leave." Pursing his lips, he eyed me with desire. I desperately wanted to get into a shower and douse myself in soap. Bleach, even.

As soon as we turned down the monochrome hallway, I recognized it.

I was going to be staying in Bradley's suite.

"The new housekeeper did an appalling job emptying it out and sanitizing it. I didn't want any of Bradley's filth touching you, but by tomorrow, everything will be gone. I promise, my queen." Conrad caged me in against the wall and puckered his lips.

Turning my head slightly so I wouldn't have to choke on his air, I quickly groaned in pain. "My finger is killing me." I lifted my hand between our faces.

"I'm sorry, beautiful. It's all about tradition. Go ahead and clean it up, and then get some sleep. Mother is thrilled to take you and the girls out shopping tomorrow," he crooned.

"The girls?" I flung my head back toward him.

"Yes, your bridesmaids," he added nonchalantly.

Nodding, the door slid open behind me as I walked backward inside the room that now held the one and only most beautiful memory of my life.

"Goodnight, Demilion." Conrad's lips ticked in an arrogant smile. Just as I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew the nickname Layla always called me, the door slid shut and I stumbled backward, terrified of all the secrets that seemed to be swarming around me.

The room was pitch-black, and I could have sworn I felt a presence. A sensation of someone breathing down my neck. Were they watching me in here? No, they must not have cameras in Bradley's room, considering we had sex in here. I wouldn't be breathing if they knew I had lost my virginity to him.

Turning slowly, I looked around. Shadows of furniture and a lamp, darkened reflections of paintings and frames taunted me. Humans aren't afraid of the dark because of the lack of light; we're afraid of the dark because we fear the places our own minds will take us.

Patting the wall, I looked for the switch until the groove brushed against my finger. Flipping it on, I fell backward, slapping my mouth to stifle the scream that escaped it.

Becca stood there, completely bald, in nothing but a stained white gown and a smile growing slowly across her face.

"Hello, Demi." She smiled even bigger.

"Becca…" I swallowed the lump in my throat as chills spread all over my body. My eyes dropped to her hand, which clutched a knife.

"I miss him so much." She did a complete spin with her thin arms wide. Her head tilted toward the ceiling as she let out a laugh.

"Brad-ley?" My voice cracked.

She immediately stopped spinning, using her heels as a way to steady herself. The eerie grin on her face melted off, turning into a darkened frown. Without her thick blonde hair and full face of makeup, she looked like a completely different person.

"He didn't want me, Demi. He left me behind. He went away and took my heart with him. He saved me, you know? I was once a caged girl…" she trailed sadly.

"Wait, you were…?" The air felt colder as Becca opened her palm and held the tip of blade against her skin. She began jamming it in slowly.

"Becca…" I took a step forward, but she shot me a look, warning me to stay back.

"Bradley was allowed to choose one girl to release. We're all such beautiful birds in a way, but he chose me. They needed a hair and makeup artist, anyway. You know how vain Mrs. Ivory is." Becca cut into her flesh and a trickle of blood pooled in her palm.

"He didn't choose Daisy?" I was stunned. His sister was held prisoner and being tortured psychologically, physically, and in every sense humanly possible.

"They didn't let him choose her, silly. So, he chose me. Even though I think he'd have chosen me regardless. He loved me."

"Becca, why don't you give me the knife?" I reached my hand out as she looked lost in a completely different world.

Pressing the knife even deeper into her palm, her eyes shot to mine as a smile stretched across her face. "He left me behind. He didn't choose me to be his…" she trailed with her eyes closing and tears running down her cheeks.

"His what?" I whispered as my eyes flicked between the dripping blood and the completely deranged expression across of her pale face.

"His favorite girl."

"I don't… I don't understand?" I shook my head slowly.

"He chose you. But so did Conrad… so they sent Bradley away." My heart tightened as Becca grew closer to me. Taking a few steps back, I stumbled into the wall.

"What makes you so special, Demi?" She angled her head slightly, tugging the blade from her palm, tapping it against her hand. "You're not nearly as beautiful as me." She eyed my mid-section. "You're… kind of unpleasant, really. Muddy skin, frizzy hair and perhaps even a bit thinner than acceptable."

Hugging myself, I took a deep breath as she caged me in against the wall. Pressing the knife against my throat, her cold air blew against my face.

Sucking in, I tried to push my head away without making a difference. "You're actually fucking ugly, Demi." She pushed the blade further into my flesh. Closing my eyes, I thought about how I was actually sad to die.

I didn't think I'd be sad, considering I was living a life that didn't feel like living at all. But no, suddenly, I realized I had held on to some sliver of hope, praying I'd get another chance at life. I think that reason was also because of Bradley. Meeting him and for the first time, feeling something for someone on a deeper level.

"It's quite funny, you were never Conrad's first choice. You were the substitute. But your promiscuous sister couldn't keep her legs closed, and well, she was no longer pure for the Ivory family." Becca clicked her tongue.

My body went cold. My eyes blurred and everything Becca said no longer sounded like a language I understood.

"My… sister? No, you don't know what you're talking about. Layla had no idea who this family was. She… she was raped by Trent."

"Did you actually see her being raped? Or is that what she told you?" Becca pursed her thin lips at me.

Blinking rapidly, I thought about how I hadn't seen Layla being raped; I'd just hear them. Hear them… having sex? But she'd always come back into the closet with me. She'd always look repulsed and heartbroken.

"She fell in love with Trent, and he loved her, but business is business. When he found out Ian Ivory was no longer buying Layla for the two million dollars he had promised him, he couldn't handle it. Layla was supposed to be his largest transaction and his way out of the Nashville slums. He couldn't believe having sex with her had wrecked him. So… he set it all up, and he put Layla up to it as well. He said if she helped him get you to go to the Ivory's house, he'd marry her." Becca paused. Leaning in, she brushed my hair from my face with her blood-stained palm. "It must really hurt to know your sister didn't want you, either." She frowned at me with insincere sadness.

"We were sold by our parents to Trent. Layla… she didn't love him. You have no idea what you're talking about," I hissed. There was no way my sister, the only human in this world who had ever loved me, wanted me, protected me, would intentionally put me in the path of harm.

But in the back of my mind, I questioned why she urged me to go to Charlotte. How everything aligned so effortlessly, so coincidentally.

"Yeah, and then you both were put in The Virgin Bride Catalogue." She squinted her eyes at me as if she were stunned I had no idea what this meant. "Oh, you poor, silly girl. You have no idea about anything, truly."

My brows furrowed as I looked into her red-tinged eyes. "The virgin bride catalogue?" I breathed out as Becca left only the smallest sliver of space between our faces. Putting more pressure against the knife against my neck, I flinched when she let out a small laugh.

"You're going to have such a beautiful life carrying an Ivory child, and the most amazing family's legacy." A tear escaped from Becca's eye. In one swift motion, she jerked the knife away from my neck and slashed her own.

Letting out a shriek, I grabbed her hand but was too late. She didn't think twice; she didn't make a sound. Blood sputtered out of her neck as she dropped to her knees and fell into my legs. Parting my lips, I could taste the splashes of her blood all over my mouth and face.

"Becca!" I cried out. I looked around wildly, grabbing Bradley's scarf from a hook on the wall, and frantically held it against her neck as she laid, face-down, in a growing pool of blood.

"Becca! Help! Someone!" I looked up at the ceiling and quickly remembered that Bradley said his room didn't have cameras. Running to the door, I slammed my bloodied fists while shouting for help at top of my lungs. Sliding my fingers across the panel, I couldn't get it to open. Red streaks were painted all over the smooth white as I sobbed harder.

"Please…" My voice was hoarse as I collapsed to the floor and looked at Becca. I knew she was dead. She had slit her throat completely. The puddle around her had now grown so large, it was hitting both sides of the walls.

Gagging, I clutched my knees and tugged them in, praying I could focus on my breathing or anything at all. Memories of my sister flashed in my mind. I was exhausted. And then suddenly, the light cut off, and I was all alone in the dark.

But I wasn't alone, was I?

Becca was right here with me, bleeding out. More than fearing the unknown in the darkness is that sometimes, what we already know is there is more terrifying than any place our imagination could ever take us.