Page 30 of The Retreat


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“How awful.”

I swallow my disappointment. A body part, even a finger, being recovered at the scene means my suspicion is incorrect, because since I heard Mom and Cora’s daughter had the same first name, a small part of me wondered if Mom had faked her death and escaped this place for whatever reason. That would make Cora my grandmother, and while the woman gives off some freaky vibes, it would be nice to have family beyond Mom.

With Daphne in a chatty mood, I continue to question her. “Were there other backpackers around when you first arrived here?”

She nods. “Lots. Magnus and Helga were renowned for hiring anyone passing through because their orchards were thriving. Plus there were many sunken treasure tales abounding that attracted adventure seekers.”

“Sunken treasure?”

“Yeah. A famous Viking ship sunk off the coast close to here. That’s how Arcania was built apparently, by the captain who made it ashore with gold filling his pockets. But there’s rumored to be a priceless gold compass worth millions, along with coins, still aboard so many of the workers who stopped here got their diving certification so they could search the ruins.”

My curiosity is piqued. Was Mom one of those adventure seekers? I know she had a fear of water so it’s unlikely. Then again, what do I really know about Mom other than what I’ve observed firsthand growing up in our quiet household or what she told me, which isn’t much, about her past?

“I saw Spencer in diving gear coming back from the beach the other morning. Does Cora still like her workers to search for the treasure?”

Daphne glances over her shoulder in inexplicable fear and takes a step back. “I must be going. I need to prepare lunch.”

“But…” I trail off as I watch Daphne practically sprint up the corridor in the direction of the kitchen.

Bizarre, that she clammed up when I mentioned Cora.

What kind of hold does the owner of Arcania have over her employees and why are they fearful of her?

Chapter22

Cora

THEN

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”Harlan envelops Ava in a hug and I see my daughter stiffen. She’s as wary of her father as I am. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it, Dad?” Ava steps away when Harlan releases her and my heart sinks when his expression turns cunning.

I know what he has planned. I’ve protected Ava all these years from being branded, but she’s eighteen today and I’d known deep down Harlan would force the issue.

“It’s in here.” He flings open the door to his office and the moment Ava sees Andreas with his tattoo paraphernalia, her startled gaze flies to mine.

I flash a brave smile when I’m dying on the inside. “It’ll be okay, sweetie.”

I slide my arm around her waist and squeeze, hating that she’s trembling slightly. “I’m here.”

“I don’t want to do this, Mom.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but Harlan hears and his brows draw together in displeasure.

“Ava, you are an integral part of Arcania.” He flings his arms wide. “This will all be yours one day and employees must see you’re committed to seeing it thrive.”

She rolls her eyes. “But who’s going to see the sole of my foot, Dad?”

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I’ve learned over the last umpteen years to never question my husband, to never talk back. It never ends well. Not that he’s been physically violent, but the emotional and mental abuse is far worse. Bruises heal. Ongoing damage to my psyche, with him chipping away at it like a master trying to reveal what’s in a block of marble, lasts forever.

I’ve kept Ava out of his way as much as possible. The only time Harlan interacts with his daughter is at dinner, which he insists is a formal occasion at the monstrous mahogany table in the dining room. Ava’s clever and while I’ve never told her in as many words to avoid her father, she’s learned to do just that. At dinner every night she’s polite and fake smiles as much as I do, but I keenly observe how stilted she is, how tightly she grips her cutlery, how she flinches if he voices his displeasure over something trivial.

In comparison, she’s affectionate with Spencer, and when I hear them laughing together in the orchard, it warms my heart and gives me pleasure in my dull life.

Spencer does that for me too, making my life brighter for fleeting moments. I’d resisted the inevitable—us resuming a relationship—for as long as I could, but on Ava’s eighth birthday, after Harlan had deliberately belittled me in front of everyone at her party in the orchard then proceeded to ignore his daughter as if she’d done something wrong too, something inside me had snapped. So when Spencer sought me out on the beach later to comfort me, I’d succumbed and we’ve been secretly together ever since.

That’s a decade ago, and I care about Spencer. Without him, I doubt I would’ve had the mental fortitude to survive my marriage and being a virtual prisoner in Arcania. But our assignations are always fraught, no matter how carefully we hide, and I live in perpetual fear of discovery.

Because we both know if Harlan ever finds out about our relationship, the consequences will be disastrous.

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