Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“I don’t understand all the mechanics of what they do,” I say softly, “but it’s wrong. It’s mind control. You literally bought a woman whose mind had essentially been wiped like a hard drive on a computer and reprogramed her to be exactly what you want. How is that not disgusting to you?”
His jaw muscle ticks and he shoots me a nasty glare. “You make it sound like I’m some sick, end-user fuck in a human trafficking scheme.”
Again, that’s exactly what this is.
“Megan chose this,” he barks out, face turning crimson. “She wasn’t stolen or kidnapped or forced. Go fucking ask her. She saw an opportunity, joined a program, and is now connected to our family. With me, she has a future she could never have dreamed of.”
“As a Stepford wife?!” I shriek. “No one chooses that.”
“According to the CUP program, the participants agree to everything that’s done to them. It’s not some shady shit like you think.”
We’re going to go around and around with this. He won’t budge. Either he believes it fully, or he’s simply delusional. I’m not getting anywhere with him, though.
I also stand and force a smile. “I guess we can agree to disagree.”
He flinches at my words. Then his features go placid. “Are you off your meds?”
This time, it’s me who recoils. Do I seem like the unhinged one at the moment? I didn’t buy a young woman to turn into my robot wife.
“That’s none of your business,” I say tartly. “When did you turn into Dad?”
I think of Eva and begin to wonder if Dad acquired her as his wife the same way Bastian got Megan. The thought sickens me. This really is a lucrative business. They farm out the women to rich guys all over who’re looking for “seen-but-not-heard” wives, trigger-happy soldiers for when they need a weapon, and teenage captives for the sick underbelly of the world. I’m disgusted by all of it.
And now I’m officially caught up in this world.
“How much did you spend on her?” I ask, leveling him with a hard glare. “Last question and then we’re done here.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“No, Bastian, it’s not. It’s reality. Now tell me.”
“I made a small donation to CUP. I didn’t buy Megan.”
“How much?”
“I said small,” he hisses.
“Bastian, how—”
“One and a quarter.” He throws his hands up in the air. “You happy?”
One million, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That’s what a robot wife costs these days.
Megan, who came from nothing, certainly is worth something now.
“How much did Megan get?”
Bastian has the gall to laugh, like I’m hilarious. I’m not joking with him. The amusement fades and anger twists his features once again.
“I take care of her,” he sneers. “Better than she’s ever been taken care of in her life. Did you see her fucking handbag, Romy? I paid two grand for that just yesterday because she saw it in a window display and thought it was pretty.”
“She traded her freedom for a purse. You’re unbelievable. I don’t even know you anymore.”
“Get off your high horse and get back on your meds. If anyone isn’t who they used to be, it’s you.”
He storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Anger surges up inside me. I don’t feel like I’ve gotten more answers. Sure, I confirmed what I already knew—that Bastian essentially bought Megan from the Crownes—but nothing new or helpful.
Why, of all people, did Orion present Megan to Bastian? Was it all a strange coincidence or was there something far more sinister going on behind the scenes?
There’s no way they could have determined that I would go looking for Megan. Theo taking me, after my snooping around at their party, was on impulse. Caius stepping in and claiming me as his pretend girlfriend was a direct result of having to clean up what Theo had done. It wasn’t all some intricately set up plan.
Or was it?
My brain begins trying to fit puzzle pieces together. It’s all jumbled together right now, but I feel as though it all connects.
And what about Vivienne? She was my nanny as a child and then she was hired to be Kaitlyn’s nanny all these years later? That’s beyond a coincidence. There’s something there.
I want to lay all the pieces in my brain down on a smooth surface so I can begin arranging them in the way they go. This is complicated and messy, but I know I can piece it all together. I’m a master at this. And now that the fog of my drugs is gone, things are starting to get clearer.
I could walk away from all of this—from everyone—and never look back. It would be so easy.
But I can never leave a puzzle unsolved.
Looks like I’ll be in it until I finish.
Something tells me I’m not going to like what the picture looks like in the end.