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“You look a little rough. After we’re done, you can take a warm bath, then I’ll help you cover the bruises.” She slipped her arm around my waist, then led me past the corner.
An audible gasp flew out of me. “What the hell is this?” I squeaked, blinking several times.
There was no way that I was seeing what was apparently in front of me. I wasn’t in the basement. I was in another house altogether. My mouth gaped as my focus swept the space, noticing a living area and several tables in a large kitchen section. A young red-headed girl stood, her pregnant belly poking out in front of her. Her sad brown eyes caught my attention.
“Ah, she’s awake,” Father strolled over to me. He placed a kiss on my forehead.
“What’s happening, Father? I don’t understand.”
Donovan rounded a corner of the basement, smiling as though he’d just won the lottery. “Should we tell her, Mother and Father?”
“Tell me what?” I spun around, looking at each of them as if they were crazy. “Why is a girl down here?”
Donovan stood next to me and slid his arm around my waist. “You two have always looked good together.” Mother patted my cheek.
A chair scraped the cement floor, pulling my focus away from my parents. I stared in disbelief as two more girls stood, both pregnant. They rinsed and loaded their dishes into the dishwasher, then disappeared into a room off the kitchen. Door after door caught my eye. “How many girls are down here? Are they all pregnant?”
“I’m happy to explain it to her,” Donovan volunteered, all smiles.
“Son, go check on the sisters. I’ll handle the conversation.” Father arched his brow.
Donovan tossed his hands up in front of him, surrendering before sauntering in another direction.
“I’ll show you.” Father slipped his arm around my shoulder, but there was nothing gentle about it this time.
Mother quietly walked on the other side of me while Father led us through the basement kitchen, and my heart pounded with every step I took. There was no way out. Once I’d descended the stairs, I had a sinking feeling that it was over. I should have run out of the mansion, but even if I hadn't convinced myself Mom was still innocent, I didn't know how to disarm their alarm system.
“Is Zayne really dead?” I found my mouth asking without my permission.
“Donovan got a clean shot to his chest. Zayne bled out before our son brought you over.”
My legs buckled beneath me, and Father jerked me into a standing position. “Don’t be weak, Giselle. That bodyguard wouldn’t have saved you anyway. All he did was fill your head with silly notions. Sometimes I wonder who the child really is—Ashley or you.”
His cruel words struck me. Before I could respond to him, we reached a door, and he flung it open. Four young women that appeared to be around the age of seventeen peered up at us from the floor. Each of them was pregnant. Were my parents helping homeless moms-to-be? I was too terrified to admit the real possibility.
“We feed and clothe them, give them a safe place to deliver the babies,” Mother said. “We care for them, Giselle.”
Relief flooded my overwhelmed brain. “You’re not hurting them, then.” A thread of desperation clung to my words.
“Of course not. Once the young women have their babies by C-section, we keep them here for six weeks to allow them to properly heal,” Father continued.
“Then what?”
Father shook his head. “You really don’t know?”
“Giselle, how could you be so dense?” Mother tugged on my arm.
“I don’t know. Just fucking tell me what’s happening here.” My chin trembled, and unwanted tears pricked my eyes.
I heard my mother’s voice, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around the words spilling out of her mouth.
Dumbstruck, I stared at her as if she’d just revealed that she had four heads, and we were from Mars.
41
Giselle
“What the hell do you mean you breed babies?” Horror twisted my gut into a million painful knots.
