Chapter 20 Acts of Contrition #2
“Half-brother,” Jordan corrected quickly. “Different mothers. But yes, the psychological dynamics are... complex. Dr. Morrison has extensive experience with such cases.”
The psychiatrist, a thin man with cold eyes, nodded gravely. “Erotomania, combined with persecutory delusions.”
“Erotomania?” Stone repeated.
“Excessive sexual desires,” the doctor spoke in a condemning tone.
“The patient becomes convinced that the object of their fixation shares their cravings. They often exhibit erratic, sometimes life-threatening behavior due to simultaneously desiring an unavailable bystander.” He made it seem as if Jordan were completely innocent in this festering stew of lies.
“They can create elaborate fantasies of... shared obsession.”
Marigold’s blood turned to ice.
“I’m sorry, did you say shared?” Ash cocked his head, his gaze drifting to Stone’s
“At times, yes. They confuse pain with pleasure,” Dr. Morrison continued as Marigold’s breathing turned shallow.
“Submission can be very pathological, which feeds the cravings. They seek out dangerous situations that strip away accountability. When reality and delusion blurs, sudden, unsafe outbursts can occur. Symptoms often spiral into increasingly risky sexual behavior—seeking validation through degradation, mistaking possession for love. It can be very dangerous if left untreated.”
“Dangerous how?” Stone asked, the concern in his voice sharpening Marigold’s doubts into razor sharp fear.
“Some patients have taken to self-harm and even suicide. They become addicted to taboo situations, interpret obsessions and compulsions as romance. In a sense, they’re trying to rewrite their own trauma.”
She closed her eyes, once more questioning her own sanity. Was that what she’d done? Was this entire experience one long delusion? Compulsions, manifesting in sexual aggression and captivity?
Everything is your choice… Their words came back to her and acid burned in her stomach. She chose this. Them. The bondage, the brutality. She couldn’t breathe.
“Marigold can be very persuasive,” Jordan warned. “When something threatens her objective, she’ll do anything. Violence, deceit, she has no limit when it comes to getting what she wants.”
“I see,” Stone said, and Marigold’s heart plummeted.
Did he see? Did he actually believe Jordan? He had to know this wasn’t a game to her. She was the victim, here! He was the evil one! Her hands balled into fists tight enough to make her knuckles pop.
“Which is why,” Jordan continued, “when she escaped from Whitmore, I knew I had to act quickly. Before she hurt someone. Before she hurt herself.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Ash murmured.
Ash… Marigold’s gaze jumped to the screen. “Can you zoom in?”
Cole pressed a few keys and Ash’s face expanded to full view, his expression unreadable.
She swallowed, throat dry as she tried to catch her breath. “Big breath in. Blow it out small. Just right, baby. Just right.” Her mother’s voice echoed as if from some distant corner of her mind.
You like visiting the library, don’t you, Calder. Those sorts of privileges come with a price… She could smell the sweat on Willum’s skin.
Hold her down, she’s getting hostile! Her skin crawled with the fantom weight of the nurses and doctors strapping her to the table.
Blinking rapidly, she tried to stay present, but she was losing ground. Possibly losing them.
Jordan’s smile was self-deprecating. “People often ask me how I stay so positive despite everything Marigold has put our family through. And I tell them, you can’t wait for opportunities to present themselves.
You have to create them. As soon as she went missing, I hired the best detectives, who then tracked her down here.
Funny thing, though. I find myself wondering why she’s still here and why authorities weren’t contacted the minute she showed up uninvited. ”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed on him. “Guess it doesn’t matter, since you came to collect.”
Her heart raced, hammering so erratically her shoulders seemed to vibrate.
Did they change their minds? They were so convincing, so agreeable.
In that moment, she knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to stay.
Leaving, after all they’d been through, would devastate her to a point that they might as well put her in a padded cell and throw away the key.
“Please…” she muttered, bouncing her knee nervously.
“Did you say something?” Cole’s question startled her, shattering whatever flimsy wall of fear was distorting her view of reality.
“Can you go to Hunter?”
He moved the lens and Hunter’s face filled the screen. His eyes were pools of black, masking his ever-vibrating rage. When his jaw ticked, she knew he was boiling. He still hated him, which meant he still was on her side.
The image switched back to Jordan, naturally tracking the movement and sound within the conference room. He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head and stretching out his legs.
“See, I take action instead of waiting around for someone else to solve my problems. Marigold’s my burden to bear.”
There it was, the narcissistic core beneath the concerned brother facade.
Jordan couldn’t help himself. Even while discussing her supposed mental illness, he had to position himself as the superior being who understood how the world really worked, victimized by those who created challenges along the way, but never thrown off course.
Marigold closed her eyes and breathed through her irritation. He was such a performer, he even had himself fooled. Almost had her fooled. But Hunter, Stone, and Ash were smart enough to see through his lies.
“Wise words,” Stone said with zero inflection. “Perhaps you could share more of your philosophies on success while our staff locates your sister?”
“Of course.” Jordan settled back in his chair, already warming to his favorite subject—himself.
“Success isn’t about waiting for permission.
It’s about recognizing that most people are sheep, and sheep need shepherds.
Men like us. The world will be inherited by those bold enough to take it.
You have to go after whatever it is you want—at any cost.”
“And what do you want, Mr. Calder?” Hunter asked with lethal calm.
“Excellence. In everything.” Jordan’s eyes gleamed with fervor.
“Most people settle for mediocrity because they’re afraid to reach for greatness.
They make excuses, follow rules that don’t apply to superior individuals.
But true alphas? We create our own rules.
” He smirked at the three of them. “You guys get that. I’ve seen your little torture chamber downstairs. ”
Stone noticeably stiffened. “No one is tortured under our watch, Mr. Calder.”
“Sure.” Jordan laughed condescendingly.
Ash cleared his throat and leaned forward, setting a thickly muscled forearm on the table.
“Before moving on, it’s crucial that you understand how serious we are about our rules.
Everything that happens under our roof and on the premises of The Preserve is one hundred percent consensual.
We bring fantasies to life, not nightmares. ”
Her brother laughed, as if hearing an inside joke. “Until one of those sweet cherries want to get taken against their will, am I right?”
Hunter’s shoulders shifted with each breath. He looked ready to snap like the pencil he just crushed in his grip. “Excuse me.” He pulled out his phone. “I need to take this.”
Marigold watched the brothers exchange subtle glances as Hunter took his leave. Was this part of the plan, or was he truly that disturbed that he needed to exit the meeting room before snapping Jordan’s neck?
Her brother was giving them everything they needed—his arrogance, his belief in his own superiority, his conviction that normal moral boundaries didn’t apply to him.
“Fascinating perspective,” Stone said, drawing the attention back to Jordan. “You sound like someone who has experience leading, what did you call them? Sheep?”
“You know the type. Delicate, young, big-eyed waifs looking for an experienced Daddy to fix their issues and give them the long-overdue spanking they need.”
Tell me,” Ash said through clenched teeth. “How does one identify these…sheep who need shepherding?”
“Experience.” Jordan’s smile was sharp with cruel amusement. “You learn to read people. Their weaknesses, their desires, their pressure points. Most people desperately want to be led, even if they don’t admit it. They crave someone strong enough to make decisions for them.”
“And if they resist this... guidance?”
“Then you teach them.” Jordan’s voice dropped to something that made Marigold’s skin crawl. “Everyone’s got triggers. Vulnerabilities. The key is getting your finger on the gauge at just the right moment and then applying a little pressure.”
“Such as?”
“Depends on the individual.” Jordan was fully in lecture mode now, drunk on his own perceived brilliance. “Fear works well with most people. But sometimes you need something more... personal. Something that breaks down their defenses entirely.”
The room had gone very quiet. Even Jordan’s own team looked uncomfortable with the direction of his monologue.
“Like what?” Ash pressed.
“Shame.” Jordan’s smile was winter-cold.
“Public humiliation. The threat of losing everything they think defines them. And for women...” He paused, his reptilian smirk slithering across his face as he grinned through beady eyes.
“Well, women are different. They respond better to intimate pressures, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.” Stone’s voice had gone dangerously quiet.
“Physical vulnerability,” Jordan said simply. “Once a woman understands that she’s completely powerless, that no one will hear her scream, that her choices have been taken away, she becomes remarkably compliant.”