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I’d been so used to being controlled that I didn’t even notice Jim was a manipulative, malignant narcissist until I became his prisoner. The drip, drip, drip of abuse was so subtle, I could only notice it with hindsight.
Mom and Jim locked the doors, hurt me with insults, isolation, and control, but I saw the monsters inside them and protected my heart. Roman made me feel like I was beautiful, talented, and worthy of love, only for me to realize he was just a more skillful puppet master. Roman Montesano is the worst of my abusers.
He stares up at me through wide eyes, his arms jerking against their restraints. “Emberly,” he says, his voice strained. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been throwing up all morning since discovering the truth.” I clutch the tenderizer to my chest.
Swallowing hard, his gaze drops to my weapon’s aluminum spikes. “You’re going to use that on me, baby?”
“I will if you keep treating me like an idiot.”
His eyes meet mine again, only this time, he’s breathing hard and fast, even though his face is a mask of calm. “Emberly, what is this about?”
Baring my teeth, I bring the tenderizer down on the table’s metal frame, sending a shockwave through the surface that makes him flinch. “Next time you play ignorant, this is going straight to your balls.”
He shudders. “Don’t do this. Untie me, and we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything.”
“No need,” I snarl. “I already know.”
Roman squeezes his eyes shut. “Emberly?—”
I slam the blunt end into his balls, making his arms and legs jerk within the restraints, and every muscle on that perfect body to tighten. He groans, his mask cracking and finally showing some pain.
Hot satisfaction sears my veins, inflating my spirits with a surge of victory. This is Roman Montesano’s most genuine emotion.
“No more bullshit,” I hiss. “No more deflection. The next time you open your mouth with a lie, I’ll use the tenderizer and I won’t stop until there’s nothing left for the doctors to repair.”
His eyes snap open, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
“Is that understood?” I snarl.
He nods.
“I went to see an associate from the Di Marco Law Group today. Do you know what she told me?”
Roman’s eyes widen, and he clamps his mouth shut.
“I’m the daughter of Frederic Capello, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He gives me a stiff nod.
I point the tenderizer at his face. “Correction. You knew it all along. Before we even met.”
“Yes,” he rasps.
“According to the attorney, I’d already claimed my inheritance via registered post and even provided a blood sample. Do you know how that happened?”
Roman grits his teeth. “We set up an email address for you and a post office box only we could access. We took the blood just after you threatened to jump off the balcony.”
“Right. Back when I knew I was your prisoner. Then you convinced me you weren’t a trafficker.”
He grimaces. “You’ve got to understand?—”
“Stop.” I raise the tenderizer, and his jaws click shut.
“My biological father ruined your lives.” I try to keep my voice from trembling, but it breaks. “A man whose name I didn’t even know. The man who kept my mother and me living in a life of constant fear. You knew I was ignorant of my roots, didn’t you?”
He glances toward the door.
