Chapter 42

FORTY-TWO

"Good morning, beautiful!"I clenched my eyes before slowly opening them. How had I fallen asleep? Looking around, my vision was slightly hazy from the stickiness crusting my eyes.

I was in Bradley's bed, tucked in the plush bedding. Shoving the blankets off, I looked at Conrad.

"Becca!" I screeched and ran toward the hallway. Dragging my feet, I froze and my mouth parted as I stared blankly at the white floors.

"Who's Becca?" A chill shot up my spine. Conrad wrapped his arm around me from behind as I stood there in complete disbelief.

"Becca…" I turned and faced him, "the hair and makeup girl?"

His forehead cinched as he brushed his finger against my cheek. "Babe, we've never had a girl named Becca live here, and as for hair and makeup, Mother always hires a woman named Kim. She's the one who made your hair so perfect for me." Conrad turned me around to him completely. My hair was cut even shorter into a bob and dyed even brighter blonde.

"No! You all are sick! You are liars! Just like with Misha, the girl I met the first night I was here… I saw her. She had slit her throat, just like Becca did!" I tried to shove Conrad's hands off me, but he only tightened his grip.

"Demi! Demi… you have to stop. You have to stop this now. Demi, sweetheart, you need to sit down. It's time I told you everything. The truth." Conrad kept his voice steady as he brushed my arms up and down.

They say when it rains, it pours. But that's for people who have always had balanced lives—lives that were smooth-sailing, normal, and unswerving. For me, it was always, when it pours, just don't drown. The problem with lives that were always trying to sink you below a treacherous, dangerous flood is that you never know if someone out there shining a light down at you is throwing you a life raft to save you or to simply tease you with a punctured one to prolong your suffering.

Just as Conrad was about to speak, his phone hummed in his pocket.

"It's Mother." He slid it on and answered.

"What? Of course, Mother. I'll bring… I can't believe it. It's our first return in what? Years?" Conrad rubbed his tensed face. "I'll be there soon." He nodded and looked back at me.

"Well, my love, you may as well come with me. It'll be good for you to see how we process a refund. It's time to truly learn the family business." I didn't know what he was referring to. But then again, deep down inside, I think I did. I just didn't want to believe my assumption was going to be correct.

Conrad intertwined his hand with mine and, for some reason, I didn't even think twice. I didn't even try to move my hand from his. There was no longer a point in fighting any of this. My sister had thrown me into the pits of hell; my parents had sold me like a used toy at a consignment shop. No one wanted me. No one loved me. I thought that none of those things would get to me, break me, hurt me. But now, as I looked at our hands laced together, I looked up at Conrad and realized I loved being wanted.

Even if it was being wanted by the devil himself. The Ivory family did anything and everything for one another. They put their family first. They'd never let one of them be hurt or get hurt.

That's what I was becoming. One of them.

And I think, maybe, I needed that.

Maybe, it was the only way I could ever survive.

"Death would be better!" Her voice echoed in a room I'd never been to. I clutched Conrad's hand tighter as my eyes widened in shock.

It was Officer Tate and a thin, blonde woman.

"Isabella, lower your voice," Mrs. Ivory snapped at the woman struggling to break free from Officer Tate's tight grip.

What was happening? Officer Tate's eyes met mine and suddenly, his face softened. "Well, well… someone's had a change of heart, haven't we, sweetheart?" His gaze dropped to our hands.

The woman, Isabella, began screaming again until she finally sunk her teeth into Officer Tate's hands and he shrieked out in pain.

"That's it. Time to put the bitch down." Dr. Ivory sighed and calmly walked over, tapping the syringe before plunging it into her skin.

Crying out, Isabella crumpled in Officer Tate's lap. He began petting her like a dog. "Now that's how I like ‘em." He winked at me as Conrad released my hand and took a seat, then shuffled through stacks of paperwork and a laptop.

"You're sure you'd like a refund, Tate?" He cleared his throat.

"Yeah. I know you all were kind enough to give a poor old police officer a free one in exchange for… well, privacy, but she wasn't what I was promised. I was promised a submissive, quiet wife, and this one… well, she's broken. She's suddenly found her damn voice. She won't let me piss on her when I screw her, and that's what I get off on. So now, I got a shitty wife and a whole lot of tension built up cause I'm not getting what I need." Officer Tate looked at me as I awkwardly sat and took in his disgusting words full of repulsive misogyny.

I wasn't insane. Officer Tate received a free bride from the Ivory family so he'd keep his lips sealed about the horrors going on here. And now, he was returning her?

Conrad sucked in a breath. "Well, we're going to have to mark her as damaged. We are planning to open a new shop for used models at a discounted price, but Isabella is going to have to go back into training." He rapidly typed on the laptop in front of him.

"Officer Tate, we could put her through shock and white therapy at an intensive level for a week and see if it doesn't remind her of her manners?" Dr. Ivory brushed his finger across his bottom lip.

"No. I want a new one." Officer Tate's thin, crusted lips ticked upward.

"We can't just deplete our inventory and give you free merchandise," Mrs. Ivory retorted, sounding agitated.

"We garner millions of dollars per unit. The waiting list we have extends out to another five years." Ian snapped his fingers and suddenly, two men I'd never seen before appeared. With one simple nod of his head, they lifted Isabella and carried her away.

"I'm feeling tense. I'll be back in a bit." Ian looked toward his wife, and Daphne's face grew pale as she bit her bottom lip. A pit grew inside of my stomach. He was going to rape her.

"Listen, you can either give me a new one, or you can kiss this… little business you've got goin' on goodbye." Officer Tate stood and brushed his hands on his pants.

"Here's your return receipt. We need a signature." Conrad tapped the paper he had slid over to Officer Tate. My stomach churned as I stared at everyone in the room. This was surreal. How could they live like this without feeling any form of remorse?

"When can I expect to design my next one?"

"Tate… there is a wait list. This isn't some grocery store where we have an abundance of shiny apples to hand over to you."

"Then give me her," he snickered as he pointed at me.

"Watch your fucking mouth before you speak about my soon-to-be wife. You're looking at the next Mrs. Ivory, so lower you voice," Conrad fired off without hesitation. Looking over at him, I couldn't help but feel… thankful? Thankful that I had someone who wanted to protect me for once? What was happening to me? My chest tightened as I hated myself for even feeling this way.

Conrad's eyes met with mine and his eyes widened slightly as he recognized my emotions. Leaning in, he tilted my chin up and planted his lips against mine.

"Mmm…" I sighed against them. Wasn't Conrad a product of being raised in this madness? I could help him. I could… But then, as I looked into his eyes, I realized I didn't feel anything for Conrad. I was displacing my feelings from Bradley onto the next option—the only option. Suddenly, I realized I may be experiencing Stockholm syndrome. Was I falling for my captor? I wasn't strong enough to fight the sentiments rampaging through my body. But what scared me the most was that they weren't negative emotions, they were positive.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I heard Mrs. Ivory shift in her seat and when I glanced over at her, she had an enormous, proud smile on her face.

She was happy for us.

They were accepting me as one of them.

Suddenly, everything changed.