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Chapter 23
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2024-12-20 16:45:22Abigail
I waited for Conrad to protest, like he always seemed to do when it came to Susanna, but to my surprise he said nothing. Then again, there was no mistaking the weight of Alexander’s words, or the look in his eyes—he wasn’t asking for permission, not that anyone in this family ever truly did.
Alexander turned to me, his expression contemplative. “Abigail,” he said, his voice low. “Thank you. I’ve heard from everyone how helpful you’ve been, looking after Susanna during… everything.” He hesitated briefly, his tone softening. “I owe you a great debt.”
I barely had time to respond before the door to the master bedroom swung open, and out stepped Susanna. Her face was a mess of tears, her voice cracki
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AbigailI nodded at the apology, not trusting myself to speak just yet.“Susanna,” Conrad said quietly. “I think Alexander is right. You should go home with him. Your husband is back now.”The moment he finally agreed to let Susanna leave with Alexander, a weight seemed to lift from my chest.Alexander nodded. “Thank you again, for taking care of her.” He turned to Susanna. “Start packing your things. You’ll be leaving tonight.”“At least let me leave tomorrow,” Susanna said, her voice tight with barely concealed anger, but she didn’t dare show it in front of Alexander. “I can’t possibly pack all my things tonight.”
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AbigailConrad froze for a moment, his eyes darting between me and the direction of Liliana’s wails. His face twisted with the conflict he wasn’t even trying to hide. “But Susanna’s situation is more urgent,” he said anxiously, his tone pleading.I stared at him, willing him to see the betrayal that his words carved into me. “I came here for—”“You’re just here to follow up on your foot injury, Abigail,” he interrupted, his voice becoming more pleading in a futile attempt to reassure me. “There’s no rush for that, but Susanna…” He trailed off, guilt in his eyes. “Look, you heard Liliana, she fell. That can’t be good for a pregnant woman. Once I confirm she’s fine and report
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AbigailConrad grabbed my wrist, his grip tight. “Come on,” he said, pulling me along. “We’re leaving.”He paused only long enough to nod curtly at his brother. “Goodbye, Alexander.” He didn’t acknowledge Daniel.We walked past Alexander and his assistant and into the parking lot, Conrad not letting go of me till we reached the car. The drive home was suffocating. Conrad’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw set in that stubborn way of his, as though sheer silence could erase the fact he had left me on my own in the hospital. I didn’t bother speaking. What could I say that hadn’t already been said?What could I say that hadn’t already been ignored
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AbigailThe park was as loud as a zoo, with the sounds of children running around playing with each other, and the chatter of other adults.Roxy and I sat side by side on the park bench, our feet brushing the mulch under us as I told her about the fight Conrad and I had gotten into after coming back from the hospital. I knew the question that was coming before she even opened her mouth.“So?” she asked, her voice breathless as she listened. “What happened next? After you slapped him?”The memory flashed through my mind—the anger, the unbelievable accusation Conrad had hit me with, the sharp sting of my palm against his face. I stared down at the mulch beneath my feet, scuffing it with the tip of my shoe
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AbigailThe first thing I felt when I woke up was pain. The coarse rope binding my wrists had rubbed the skin raw, and every movement sent a sharp, burning sting shooting up my arms. My head pounded in a way that made it hard to piece together what had happened. The hands carrying me roughly dropped me to the ground, deliberately brushing up against the side of my body, and I shuddered in disgust.I groaned in agony as I landed on my shoulder, forcing my eyes open. I was in a dimly lit, grimy room, and the air heavy with the stench of sweaty bodies and cigarette smoke. A low murmur of voices reached my ears, followed by gruff laughter. Panic cut through me like the sting of ice water as the pieces fell into place—I had been kidnapped. I struggled to sit up, my breathing ragged.
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AbigailMy chest heaved with panic as I struggled against the firm grasp of the person who had grabbed me. My body thrashed, still locked in survival mode, as the arms holding me tightened just enough to keep me from slipping to the floor. I clawed and kicked, my breaths ragged and sharp.“Abigail, stop,” a voice commanded, firm but quiet.I froze. That voice. It couldn’t be.Alexander.“It’s me. Calm down. You’re safe now.”The words registered slowly in my mind, as if they were coming through a fog. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears that it nearly drowned them out. His voice sent a jolt
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AbigailI turned to him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. His expression was tight, almost pained. My hands tightened on the piece of tissue as I braced myself for whatever was coming.“When I heard you were in danger…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. He looked away for a moment, his jaw clenched. “I can’t even describe what it felt like. I thought—” His voice broke, and he shook his head. “I thought I was going to lose you.”“Conrad…” I started, my voice trembling, but he held up a hand.“Please,” he said, his tone pleading. “Just let me finish.”I closed my mouth
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AbigailAlexander had planned the kidnapping? It couldn’t be true—could it? Conrad was sure, but doubt clawed at me.The idea alone felt impossible. Alexander, even though he was reserved, and the rest of the family seemed to fear him as much as they respected him, did not seem like he could ever hurt me. He was my family by marriage. And if he wanted to harm me, why would he have saved me?My thoughts circled back to the figure who had wrapped me in safety for one fleeting moment. Could it have been Alexander? No—he was confined to a wheelchair. But then why did that voice, that presence, feel so familiar?I didn’t know what to believe. None of it made sense.“Abigail.” Conrad’s voice broke the spell of my thoughts. His hand reached out, brushing against mine, his tone softening. “I know this is a lot to process. If you need time, we don’t have to talk about it now.”I stayed silent, my gaze fixed out the window.Conrad sighed but didn’t push. Instead, his fingers entwined with mine,
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Conrad This was wrong. All wrong. I took a slow sip of my whiskey, trying to let the burn of it distract me, but it didn’t work. The woman in front of me, the one I had spent a ridiculous amount of money perfecting, stood stiffly, her hands clasped together, head tilted downward like a scolded child. She was supposed to look like my wife. She did, to an extent. The hair, the eyes, even the perfume; those details were correct. But everything else? Off. Her posture was wrong. Abigail didn't carry herself like an 1900's schoolgirl expecting a caning. Abigail never failed to meet my eyes even when I was spitting fire. Her quiet confidence couldn't be taught. This woman? She was trying too hard, and it irritated me. I sighed, rolling the glass between my fingers before setting it down with a dull clink. This would have to do for now. I couldn’t have Abigail yet, but I needed something, someone, to fill the void, and it couldn't be Susanna. At least, not for now. Mother had been s
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Alexander The moment I pulled open the door hidden under the base of the statue of the Virgin Mary, the scent of decay hit me like a punch to the gut.No, that wasn’t quite right. I had smelled it the moment I stepped into the manor of the estate. That deep, cloying stench of something long past its time, something that should have been laid to rest but had been left to fester instead. But I had ignored it. Or rather, I had hoped, prayed even, that it was nothing more than the rot of an abandoned estate.I never thought we would find a body. But there she was.I barely had time to register the sight of the corpse before I heard Abigail’s sharp gasp behind me. I moved without thinking, shoving the door closed and stepping in front of it, using my body as a shield as if I could somehow erase what she had just seen. But it was too late.She had seen, and she knew. I didn’t need to hear her say it to understand. I had already reached the same conclusion—the same horrible, gut-wrenching
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Abigail The man who had leaned against the statue stumbled back, waving away dust with one hand as he coughed. A thick cloud filled the air, and I instinctively raised my arm to cover my nose and mouth. The statue of the Virgin Mary had crumbled like a sandcastle, revealing something hidden under it. As the dust settled, Alexander stepped closer, his expression sharpening with concern and curiosity. Where the statue once stood, there was now a gaping hole, the jagged edges of stone framing what looked like a concealed door. The wood was so moldy and blackened with age that it barely looked like wood at all. There was no handle, just a small opening where fingers could slip in and pull. Alexander reached for it. Something in me screamed for him to stop. I don’t know why. Maybe I already knew, deep down, what was waiting behind that door. But he pulled it open anyway, grunting as a laboring creak filled the air. The first thing I noticed was the stench. It was putrid, suffocatin
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Susanna I stirred awake to the sound of slow, rhythmic breathing beside me, the weight of an arm slung over my waist. My head felt thick with exhaustion, my limbs sore in ways I didn’t care to think about. For a long moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling of the garish motel room, the golden swirls on red wallpaper filling me with distaste. Where am I? The question drifted through my half-conscious mind before memory came rushing back, hitting me like a slap to the face. Oh. Right. Disgust twisted my expression. I shoved the arm off me, wincing at the soreness in my lower back as I sat up. The movement jostled the man beside me, and he made a groggy sound before blinking awake. He turned his head towards me, his lips stretching into a lazy, leering grin. "Mm," he hummed, eyes roaming over my body, shameless despite the crust of sleep still clinging to his lashes. "You haven’t lost your touch, sweetheart. If anything, you’re even better than before." I scowled, n
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Abigail It had been hours since Alexander and I arrived at Ravenbrook, since I had first stepped into this decrepit house with my heart pounding and my hopes soaring against my better judgment. I had been so sure. After hearing Liam say the name, and seeing the terror on his face when he whispered it, I had believed with every part of me that my mother would be here. That I would find her at last. That all of this suffering, all of the waiting, all of the agonizing weeks spent wondering if she was alive or dead, had been leading to this moment. And yet, all I had to show for my hope was nothing. No signs of life. No whispers of her presence. No misplaced object, no forgotten article of clothing, no single trace that a woman who had once been the most important person in my world had ever been here at all. I had searched everywhere. The bedrooms, the bathrooms, the library, the study. I had torn through dusty closets, rummaged through abandoned drawers, even pressed my hand agai
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Abigail The elevator ride down was silent. I barely registered the soft chime announcing each floor as we descended, nor the polished steel doors reflecting my pale face back at me. My mind was spinning, turning over the name Ravenbrook like a stone in my palm, searching for familiarity in its edges and weight. Where had I heard it before? It clung to me, refusing to let go, like a whisper just out of reach. Beside me, Alexander stood still, his hands in his pockets, but I could feel his gaze lingering on me. He was watching me closely. I wasn’t sure if it was concern or curiosity at my quietness, but I had no space in my mind to dwell on it. I could only focus on Ravenbrook. There was something stirring in my memory, faint but persistent. By the time we stepped into the hospital’s lobby and moved toward the parking lot, my hands had curled into fists. The answer was there. I could feel it. I slid into the passenger seat of Alexander’s car, fastening my seatbelt automatica
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Abigail Liam moved closer, his shoulders shaking, his face wet with tears. His eyes were desperate as he reached out, trying to wrap his arms around me in an embrace. I turned my body away, just enough to avoid him. His arms hung in the air for a second before he let them drop. He sniffled loudly, his breath coming in short, unsteady bursts. I swallowed hard, forcing down the emotions rushing through me. “Liam,” I said quietly, my voice steadier than I expected. “That man you saw speaking with Marceline and Conrad, who was he?” Liam wiped his face roughly, blinking at me in confusion. “I told you already,” he mumbled. “I don’t know.” I didn’t believe him. Maybe he didn’t have a name, but Liam wasn’t stupid. He had spent time around Aaron, the man who had led him into this mess. There was no way he hadn’t overheard something, some kind of detail that could clue me in. I narrowed my eyes. “Liam, think.” He shook his head, his movements jerky. “I...I don’t know anything
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Abigail I couldn't take it anymore. Everything Liam had said so far, every word, had been an excuse. I hadn’t wanted to say it, had tried to keep my emotions in check, but the words slipped past my lips before I could stop them. “All of this… all of it, Liam, is just you making excuses.” Liam’s eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected me to say that. But I couldn’t stop now. “You’ve told me about the gambling, the debts, the deals you made, but you still haven’t explained why you helped Susanna hurt me. Your own sister.” My voice shook with anger and hurt. “And what about Mom, Liam? You haven’t even mentioned her. Haven’t even said her name. Do you even care that we still don't know where she is?” I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling quickly. “And you haven’t even apologized,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not once.” Liam stared at me after my outburst, something dark and ugly flashing in his eyes. His hands clenched into fists. Then, in an instant, he
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Abigail "I hope you mean that," Alexander said, taking a step towards the bed. Liam’s hands shook as he nodded, his fingers curling into the bedsheets. I held my breath, bracing myself, knowing whatever came next wouldn’t be easy to hear. “When did it really start?” Alexander pressed, his voice firm. “The gambling, the drugs… they didn’t just start when you met Marceline, did they? You’d already been sinking long before that.” Liam swallowed hard, guilt flashing in his bloodshot eyes. He lowered his head. “No. It started before.” I exhaled slowly, a bitter weight settling in my chest. Liam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if steeling himself, before speaking again. “It started with...Conrad.” I stiffened at the name, my hands clenching in my lap. Just the mention of his name sent a flash of anger down my spine. “The first time I asked him for money, I was hesitant,” Liam admitted. “I knew you already felt indebted to him for helping with Mom’s hospital bills, Bee
