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"You see, your conniving grandparents set up a trust for you," my father continues, the venom in his voice betraying the jealousy he's probably fostered for years. "I found the documents while going through your mother's things. The bitch never told me about it."
His eyes are alight with a sick satisfaction as he delivers the next piece of the puzzle, a piece that feels like the missing weight to anchor the nightmare I'm trapped in.
"When you turn twenty-five, you'll inherit one hundred million dollars."
An incredulous laugh escapes me, mirthless and strained. Is this some twisted joke? The heavy click of a gun being cocked slices through my disbelief. I don't have to look to know it's aiming at me. The intent is clear: comply, or else. "But you see, I can't have access to it," he sneers.
My father's face contorts into a grotesque smirk as he delivers each word like a dagger aimed directly at my heart. "I owed Jackson a lot of money. He owed the Hawthorns a lot of money." His eyes flicker with a dark triumph, finding pleasure in revealing the twisted web of debts and deceit. "I told him about the money you're set to get and offered him to marry you for access to it."
He pauses, studying my reaction as if expecting gratitude for his vile matchmaking. "He happily agreed." A shiver of disgust runs through me as he speaks of my life like it's just another one of his shady deals. "He told me you were being difficult. Why couldn't you just be a good little wife, look pretty, and spread your legs whenever he wanted?"
The force of the revelation hits me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs. I want to scream, to rage against the injustice and the sheer violation of it all. It's unbearable the way my own father commodifies me, reducing me to nothing more than a bargaining chip in his sordid transactions. Rage and disbelief war within me as I meet his gaze, my eyes blazing with fury, utterly repulsed by the monster before me.
Aurora's words come slicing through the thick, fraught atmosphere, as precise and chilling as the rest of her. "My brother also made enemies with the Nightingales. It seems that he promised the Hawthorns and the Nightingales money. They caught wind of your little inheritance, and when Jackson refused to play by their rules, they poisoned him. Thanks to me.”
My father resumes, his voice barely above a whisper, but each word etches into my memory with the permanence of a scar.
"The Nightingales... they found me. They would have taken me out, no second thoughts if I hadn't dangled you like a carrot." He hesitates, his eyes nothing short of predatory. "You see, the Nightingales, they deal in human trade. A dirty business. And Luke, Luke Nightingale, he made an offer to marry you. That would give him legal access to the money."
I stare at him, my breath ragged, as the web of deceit tightens around me. "I agreed," he continues, and I can hear the tacit resignation in his voice. "Once we got hold of the money, they wouldn't have cared what happened to you. They'd sell you to whoever offered the most. And me? I wouldn't have batted an eye." His confession hangs heavy in the air, a toxic mist that chokes the very life out of the room.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, yet they refuse to fall. There's a hollowness in my chest, a void where trust and love for my father once resided. To be betrayed by one's own blood, sold like property into a spider's web of crime and cruelty, is a soul-shattering reality that claws at the inside of my skull.
I should feel panic. Instead, a deep, abyssal sadness wraps itself around my heart, squeezing until each shallow breath becomes a battle. His words render me into nothing more than currency in his eyes. A daughter exchanged for debts settled. The iron taste of blood in my mouth is now entwined with the bitter flavor of betrayal.
Desperation claws at the edges of my thoughts, but I focus, hanging onto every bitter confession that spills from Aurora's lips. "Jackson wanted to take Damien out. I was fully on board with that plan," she says with chilling nonchalance as if discussing the weather rather than murderous schemes. I blink, feeling as though the room is spinning around me. "Damien was getting weak."
Then, I feel her eyes on me, piercing and cold. "Then you came along, and even while married to Jackson, you were a distraction to Damien. His eyes followed you whenever you were in the room." Her voice is edged with disdain as if I'm a bug she's eager to squash underfoot. She shakes her head minutely, an executor disillusioned by her subject's faults.
"Then you had to go and marry him and get knocked up in the process." Her words spear through me, setting my blood on fire. I want to scream, to rail against her, but the ropes binding me are as tight as the trap I'm in.
A cold smile plays on her lips. "No worries, though. The plan still stays. I've been working with the Hawthorns and the Nightingales." Her casual revelation sends a shiver down my spine like a treacherous ballet of fear and anger twisting through me. Aurora's betrayal is a new cut in a body already etched with scars.
"You see, Isabella," he says, and I can't help but wince at the sound of my name on his lips. A name that once implied affection is now weaponized. "I found a little loophole. Let's call it a grey area." The smirk on his face grows wider, more insidious if that's even possible. "If you die and there’s no husband or kids, then the money goes to your next living kin." He pauses for effect, his smile a grotesque distortion of joy. "That would be me." His laughter cuts the tension in the room, a chilling, malevolent sound that underscores the gravity of my situation.
A sickening knot forms in my stomach as he lays out his grotesque plan. To think that to him, my life and the life of my unborn child are nothing more than bargaining chips in his twisted game. I listen, my heart pounding in my ears as anger and fear collide within me. His words are calm, methodical even, as if he is explaining the rules of a board game.
"But you see," my father continues, the cruel glint in his eyes betraying his feigned concern. "That puts me in a predicament. If all the money goes to me, then the Nightingales would take it and kill me." He states this as a matter of fact, his selfishness and cowardice on full display.
"You're worth more to me alive than dead. You're Damien's wife, and you're pregnant with his spawn," he says, his voice dripping with venom. "That's leverage over him. The Nightingales will keep you. I'll demand money from Damien, and he'll pay. For some odd reason, he cares for your worthless ass." I feel the weight of each word like a physical assault.
"Your actions say otherwise. Clearly, she's not as worthless as you're claiming. Otherwise, why go through all this fucking trouble," Seraphina says, her words laced with a venom born of newfound courage. Someone hits her, and all I hear is her heavy breathing and the small, splattering sound of blood hitting the floor.
She glares defiantly at the man who struck her, her lips curling into a grotesque yet triumphant grin as she sports her bloodied smile. She spits, more blood than saliva, straight at him, the crimson stain on his shirt a mark of her unyielding spirit. "You hit like a bitch," she taunts, goading her assailant, daring him to reveal the cowardice we already see.
"Once I get my money, I'll disappear," my father continues, his plan unfolds with monstrous clarity. "When you turn twenty-five, the Nightingales will get their money. They'll lure Damien to rescue you and kill him. They can do what they want with you. Kill you and the brat for all I care." The ease with which he speaks of my life ending is a blow far greater than any physical pain. I'm left speechless, betrayed beyond words.
As Aurora speaks, fierce and resolute, her declaration hangs in the air. "And with Damien dead, I'll take over."
Seraphina's boisterous laugh, devoid of any mirth, slices through the heaviness in the room. "That's your plan?" she asks, surprise painting her face with a mocking smirk. "You really think in this man's world, they'll let a woman have power? That they'll listen toyou?"
I watch closely as doubt shadows the edges of Aurora's hardened expression. Her response is quick and biting. "Yes, they will. I’m a fucking Blackhart!"
Her certainty doesn't waver, but there's a tremor in her voice, making her assurance seem almost childlike.
"You sound so stupid, and you look stupider," Seraphina responds.
With a rush of movement, Aurora strides over and delivers a stinging slap across Seraphina's face. "Shut up!" she snarls. The force behind her voice and hand is a clear signal of her desperation to cling to control.
