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)
Ignoring him, I turn to glare at my father. “Why wasn’t I involved in this?”
“You’re not her daddy, Caius. As the child’s grandfather, I took responsibility of her mental health care. I assure you she’ll be as good as new before long.”
She’s not some car you take in to get restored. She’s a fucking kid.
“And Romy?” I ask, this time turning my attention to Gideon. “Where the hell is my fiancée?”
Gideon’s features pinch at the mention of her being my fiancée. I don’t give a damn what he thinks about this new level in our relationship. He clearly doesn’t approve. Well, I don’t approve of him either.
“There’s something you should know about Romy,” Gideon says gruffly. “Before you involve yourself in marrying her. She has…”
“Psychological problems,” Bastian chimes in. “She’s fucked up, man. Been that way since she was a kid.”
I wonder how many good punches I could get in before the other two men would pull me off him.
“Where. The. Fuck. Is. She?” Each of my words is punctuated by a new level of pissed-off. The liquor hisses through my veins like hot steam rushing through a pipe looking for escape.
“Show him,” Gideon urges. “Let him see what kind of screwed up girl my daughter is.”
Dad’s pathetic attempt to seem apprehensive about this is overshadowed by his gleaming eyes. He’s loving every second of this. “Promise you won’t lose your shit, Son.”
I don’t make any promises.
Gideon refills everyone’s glasses while Dad scrolls through his phone.
“There are some texts between them,” Dad explains. “That’s how it started.”
My eyebrow hikes up. I’ve had access to all her texts, and thus far, there hasn’t been anything alarming to me. This is all bullshit.
“I’m texting them to you now,” Dad explains. “Take your time. I know this is upsetting.”
I grind my teeth together as I fish out my phone. The text he sent me has some screenshots attached.
Theo: Why would you say yes to marrying him when we’re planning to run away together?
Romy: So he won’t catch on too early. He’ll try to stop us when we get ready to take Kaitlyn and leave. I don’t want him to be suspicious.
Theo: You love me more than him.
Romy: I only love you.
My eyes dart over to Dad. “She’s having a relationship behind my back with my brother?”
Dad nods, feigning disappointment. “I’m sorry, Son. I know how much you care for her.”
He has no fucking idea.
He also has no fucking idea that I know these texts aren’t real.
“There’s more,” Dad says, gesturing for me to continue. “There are a lot of text conversations between them.”
Romy: He almost caught me sneaking back to our room. We can’t be so careless in our affair.
Theo: I know, baby doll. But you’re so hard to resist. I’m counting down the days until we can leave.
I know for a fact Theo calls her “babe,” not baby doll. It’s almost as if some old guy created these fake texts…
Oh, that’s right.
An old guy did create these fake texts.
I read another screenshot, this one from this morning.
Romy: He’s gone. Hurry. Come see me. I need you.
Theo: I’m on my way. Take his ring off. I’m not fucking you with it on.
Despite knowing this is bullshit, rage burns hot in my chest.
“There are also these pictures,” Dad rumbles. “I must warn you, they’re difficult to look at.”
My phone buzzes with another text where he’s sent me multiple pictures. I open the first one and stare in confusion. It looks so real.
Romy, with damp hair, covered in hickeys I gave her and completely naked, is sprawled over my brother’s chest. He’s taken a selfie of the two of them.
He drugged her, remember?
Her eyes are closed. Though it looks intimate and real, it’s nothing more than a man posing an unconscious woman on him to look like more than it is.
The next picture is of them kissing. Well, it’s my brother devouring her lips as she lies there passed out. Another staged picture.
There are multiple pictures of her lying there completely naked. When I stumble across a picture of my brother’s dick in his hand as he kneels between her spread legs, I nearly throw my phone.
“I’m sorry, Son,” Dad says. “I didn’t want to show you, but you deserve to know of their betrayal.”
If Theo raped her while she was knocked out, I’m going to make good on my fantasy of throwing him over the stairwell railing. I’ll take great satisfaction in listening to his skull crack open like a busted cantaloupe.
There aren’t any pictures of him inside of her, thank God, but he’s touching her in each one. It’s clear this is all a setup, most likely ordered by my father, and Theo was just performing what was asked of him.
What about when the camera was off?
What did Theo do then?
At some point, though, she woke up. She texted me after and was clearly afraid.