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CHAPTER40
Evie
My phone vibrates in the breast pocket of my blazer, and I take it out to peek at the message.
R U OK?
I shove the phone back and swipe my keycard to open my dorm room. Dropping my backpack at the foot of my bed, I collapse on the mattress with a heavy sigh.
“Seriously, could you keep it down?”
Rolling my head to the side, I give my new roommate a dull-eyed stare. She blinks at me from behind her glasses for a moment before going back to her studying.
I never thought I’d miss Kat, but I do. Sharon does nothing but study, and yells at me if I make even the slightest noise.
It’s been a week since I’ve been back in the girls’ dorm room. The repairs were completed the weekend of the Firefly Ball, and when I found out I could move out of the Walsh House, I was thrilled.
Ever since that night, I’d been hiding in my room, hoping against all hope Owen wouldn’t slip inside and change my mind again. But he seems to have finally gotten the message, because hewasn’tat the Walsh House that entire weekend. Kat mentioned something about him going home to visit his parents.
I let out another sigh. I thought Iwasbeing quiet, but Sharon groans and starts packing up her stuff. “This is ridiculous,” she mutters. “Try loosening your corset if you can’t breathe properly.”
And with that, she stomps out of the room.
Well, thank God for that.
I shove my hand under my pillow and take out the glittery sapphire collar from the Firefly Ball. I twist it in my fingers, letting the light play over the gorgeous stones.
I left because I knew what would happen. Owen would come over and expect everything to be different just because he’d saved Willow’s life. I know he’s not the sole reason she climbed out on that window ledge, but he was definitely the last straw.
My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it assuming it’s another message from Kat. She’s been calling and texting me nonstop to find out if I’m okay. I’ve hardly said two words to her since the ball. I know it’s not her fault, but I feel like communicating with anyone even loosely connected to Owen or the Royals would just pull me back into that dark web.
Which begs the question—why do you still have that collar?
The rational part of me knows it’s valuable. I could sell it and probably fund the entire second year at college with the proceeds. But the irrational part of my brain can’t let it go because of how important the collar is to me.
I wish that part of my brain would let me knowwhyit’s so fucking important.
It because it represents a part of my life I’d rather forget, but at the same time, it’s something I keep being drawn back to.
Owen had no idea what was happening in that video he watched. Hell, I didn’t either. I was so doped up with whatever Brent gave me, I remembered nothing the next day. I woke up on his couch, and he told me we’d both had too much to drink, but he’d been a gentleman and left me to sleep there instead of taking me to bed.
And I’d believed him.
It took my spiteful ex-boyfriend a week to implement phase two of his plan. He’d arrived unexpectedly at my house, catching me and my family completely off guard. I thought he’d came to ask me to rethink our relationship… but he’d come armed with a video on his phone.
Just me and my mom were home at the time. I’m sure Brent planned it that way because he knew my father would fuck him up. Between my Dad and me, I don’t know who was more shocked by the video.
The video showed me naked, bound at hands and feet, wearing a BDSM collar. Brent—who’d had the foresight to wear a mask—was fucking me from behind. I seemed to be enjoying myself thoroughly, as was clearly evidenced by the several close-up shots of my face.
Mother nearly passed out when she saw it, and that wasbeforeBrent told us how much money he wanted from us. He knew my father made bank as an engineer. He knew my family didn’t spend much of it because we lived averymiddle-class life.
Five million.
It was laughable that he thought we’d give it to him, but when he’d threatened to post the video on social media and add the church’s hashtag, my motherranfor her checkbook.
None of it should have ended the way it did. In the real world, we’d have reported Brent to the police. Mother would never have handed over that money. We’d have told my father, and he’d have sorted everything out.
But shame is a powerful deterrent. At that moment though, I couldn’t bear the thought of my dad seeing that video, and neither could my mother. She made me swear not to breathe a word to anyone.
