Chapter 4 An Impossible Choice
Lydia looks like she is about to swallow her own tongue, and honestly, I hope she does.
Few minutes after I walked to my bedroom, she followed me screaming all sorts of things I didn’t bother to listen to.
Now, she’s standing in the center of my bedroom, her chest heaving under a silk robe that costs more than most people’s cars. No wonder she’s so desperate to get the family out of debt. Desperate enough to sell me out to a monster.
Her face is a blotchy mess of foundation and genuine, unadulterated fury. She holds my marriage license between two fingers as if it is a piece of used tissue.
"You really expect me to believe this, Emily?" she snarls. Her voice has reached a pitch that could probably shatter the vanity mirror behind her. "You think you can just print out a piece of paper and play house? This is a forgery. It is a pathetic, desperate attempt to get out of your obligations."
My father, Thomas, is looming in the doorway. I didn’t even notice when he came up. For a large man, he has such a small presence.
I compare it to Alistair’s presence and I almost laugh at the difference between the two.
"Emily," he says. His face is a deep, dangerous shade of purple. He doesn’t say anything after that but the way his fist is clenched around the doorframe tells me everything I need to know.
"It is real, Lydia," I say. I am sitting on the edge of my bed, my hands resting protectively over my stomach. I feel a strange sense of detachment, like I am watching a movie of my own life. "I am a Wolfe now. The deal you made with Silas Reed is dead and has nothing to me."
Thomas finally moves. He strides into the room and because no one is talking, the sound of his heavy footsteps vibrates through the floorboards. He grabs the paper from Lydia’s hand, his eyes scanning it with a calm expression before his eyes finally go wild.
I now know where I got my switch from calm to rage from.
"I don’t care if this piece of paper claims that you married the Pope," Thomas bellows. Now that he’s closer, I can perceive scotch on his breath. Was he really that nervous to meet Silas? "You are going to that hotel. You are going to sit with Silas, and you are going to be charming. If I have to drag you there by your hair, I will. Do you understand me?"
My dad wasn’t the typical girl dad lovey dovey father, but he has never been this cruel to me before. My chest tightens and I stand up, keeping the bed between us. My heart is thudding, but my voice stays cold. "You can’t. It is illegal to marry a married woman, Dad. You should know that."
"Forgery!" Lydia screams again, pointing a manicured finger at me. "She made it up! Call the records office, Thomas. Prove she is a liar."
I pull my phone from my pocket. My fingers are steady as I navigate to the official state verification portal. I dial the verification hotline and hit the speakerphone. The mechanical ringing fills the room, cutting through Lydia’s screeching.
"Public Records Verification Office," a bored, nasal voice answers. "State your document ID."
I read the number from the license. My parents stand frozen, their eyes locked on the phone.
"Document ID 49-B-72 verified," the voice says. "Issued this morning at eight zero four. Parties: Alistair Wolfe and Emily Vance. Status: Legally Binding."
I end the call. The silence that follows is heavy enough to choke on. Lydia stumbles back, her hand flying to her throat. The color has drained from my father’s face, leaving him looking sallow and old. They aren’t thinking about my happiness. They are thinking about the million of dollars they already received from Silas Reed. Because they would not be reacting like this if he didn’t already send them money to secure my hand.
The sound of a phone ringing makes all of us jump. Thomas takes his phone out and stares at it as a ghost is on the screen. We all look at each other and we suspect one person. Silas doesn’t like to be kept waiting for his appointments.
Thomas turns to leave, his movements jerky. "I’ll tell him there’s been a mistake. I’ll fix this."
He moves to press the green button, but I am faster. I snatch the phone before he can touch it. I press it to my ear, ignoring my father’s hand reaching for my throat.
"Thomas?" The voice on the other end is like gravel being ground into a wound. Silas Reed.
"This isn’t Thomas," I say, hating the fact that my voice is slightly shaky. I’m not afraid of Silas Reed. I shouldn’t be. I take a deep breath and look directly at Lydia, who is watching me with pure hatred. "This is Emily. I want to let you know that I won’t be joining you for lunch or dinner or any form of meeting. I’m officially off the market. I got married this morning."
There is a long, terrifying pause on the line. I can only hear him breathing.
"You think a piece of paper protects you from me, Emily?" Silas asks. The threat is so casual it makes the hair on my arms stand up. That was not the reaction I was expecting.
"I think Alistair Wolfe protects me," I reply. "But if you’re still looking for a Vance girl to settle the debt, you should look at my sister. Chloe is much prettier than I am. And she’s definitely more your type."
Thomas roars and lunges, tearing the phone from my hand. He slams it against the wall, but Silas has already hung up. My father turns on me, his eyes wide and bloodshot. The veneer of the respectable businessman is gone. There is only a cornered animal left.
He swings his hand. The impact is so sudden that I don’t even have time to flinch. His palm connects with my cheek, a sickening crack that sends me spinning. I hit the floor hard, the metallic taste of blood immediately filling my mouth. My head rings, a high, sharp sound that drowns out Lydia’s gasp.
"You ungrateful bitch," Thomas spits. He stands over me, his shadow swallowing me whole. "You just ruined this family. You just signed our death warrant."
He doesn’t stop there. He calls for his head of security, a man named Miller who has always looked at me with more pity than I wanted. Miller appears in the doorway, his face carefully blank.
"Take her to the storeroom," Thomas orders. His voice is shaking. "Lock her in. No food. No water. Maybe a few days of dark and hunger will remind her who she belongs to."
"Sir, she’s pregnant," Miller says quietly.
"I don’t care! Do it!"
Miller helps me up, his grip on my arm surprisingly gentle. He leads me down to the basement, past the wine cellar, to a heavy wooden door that hasn’t been opened in years. The air here is thick with the smell of mildew and cold stone. He pushes me inside, and the door slams shut.
It is pitch black. I sink to the floor, my back against the damp wood. The floor is freezing, the cold seeping through my dress and into my bones. I curl into a ball, my arms wrapped tightly around my stomach.
Three days, I tell myself. The words are a mantra. Alistair said three days.
I don’t know how long I’m down there. Time becomes a blur of shivering and the sound of my own shallow breathing. I think of Alistair’s eyes, the way they looked when he saw the license. He is a cold man, a wolf in a charcoal suit, but he is my only hope. I pray the child inside me is strong. I pray Alistair is a man of his word.
Eventually, the exhaustion wins, and I drift into a heavy, feverish sleep.
I am jolted awake by a sound that doesn’t belong in a house like this. It is the sound of glass shattering. Not small, like a plate or a cup, but like a massive window being pulverized. Then come the screams. Lydia is wailing, a high, thin sound that vibrates through the floorboards above me.
There is a heavy thud, then the sound of furniture being overturned. It sounds like a hurricane has been let loose in the living room.
For a second, my heart leaps. Maybe it’s-
"Where is she?" A voice booms. It isn’t Alistair. It is Silas.
My heart falls and I hear my father’s voice, muffled and high-pitched, pleading for mercy. There is the sound of another blow, a heavy grunt, and then more crashing. I can imagine Silas’s men systematically dismantling our home, tearing the silk wallpaper, and smashing the imported marble statues.
"You played me, Thomas," Silas growls. His voice carries through the vents. "You took my money and let your daughter marry a Wolfe? You think I’m a joke?"
"Please, Silas! I’ll get the money back! I’ll find a way!" Thomas is crying now. The sound of a broken man. Even though I shouldn’t, I feel slightly bad for him. Slightly being the key word.
"I don’t want the money," Silas says. "I want what I’m owed. And since you don’t have Emily, I’ll take what’s left."
The basement door at the top of the stairs creaks open. I hear footsteps—light, hurried ones.
"Mom? Dad? What’s going on?"
It is Chloe. She must have just returned from the hospital. Today? Yesterday? How long have I been down here? I hold my breath, listening to the silence that follows her entrance into the living room.
"Well now," Silas says, and even through the floor, I can hear the predatory shift in his tone. "Emily was right. You are a lot prettier."
"Leave her alone!" Lydia screams. There is the sound of a scuffle, then another slap.
"I’ll tell you what, Thomas," Silas says. "I’m a reasonable man. Your factory is failing. Your creditors are at the gate. I can make all of that go away. Or, I can burn that factory to the ground tonight and leave you in the gutter."
"Anything," Thomas sobs. "Just don’t kill us."
"Your daughter stays with me for three days," Silas declares. "Three days. If you bring me the ten million by the end of it, you get her back. If not... well, I’ve always wanted a Vance to work in one of my clubs."
"No!" Lydia shrieks. "Not Chloe! Take Emily! She’s in the storeroom! Take her!"
"I don’t want a Wolfe’s leftovers," Silas snaps. "I want the untouched one. Decide, Thomas. The girl or the business."
There is a long, agonizing silence. My heart aches for Chloe, even after what she did with Julian. I wait for my father to fight. I wait for him to be a man.
"Take her," Thomas says, his voice a dead whisper. "Just... please don’t hurt the business."
The basement door slams shut above me. I hear Chloe’s frantic screams as she is dragged away, her heels scraping against the floor until the sound fades into the distance. The house falls into a terrifying, silent ruin.
I am still in the dark. I am still alone.