Chapter Eighty-Three
Gigi
I scan the back of the SUV, my heart still pounding, but the initial rush of adrenaline fading fast. Now, I need to figure out how to escape this nightmare.
“Tomorrow’s the big day, right, Gigi?” Sarah asks, her voice cutting through the tension as we roll to a stop at a red light. I nod, feeling the weight of it. “And Marcus loves you?” she presses. Another nod. “Good. Then he won’t mind paying to get his bride back, will he?”
Wait. Pay? She’s holding me for ransom? My stomach twists. She has to be insane if she thinks I’m worth anything like that.
But then it hits me—hard. Why would my own mother do this? I should’ve seen it coming. She never cared about me, not really. I was just a pawn, a way to get her hands on Marcus’s money. The realization digs into me, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. She never wanted a relationship with me; she only saw dollar signs. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as the truth sinks in. I never mattered to her—not then, not now. All these years, and nothing has changed.
We pull into a parking garage, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. Sarah punches in her code to open the gate, her voice steady as she barks orders. “Kevin, take Gigi up to the apartment. Lance, make sure we stay clear.”
Both men step out of the car, their eyes sweeping the garage, scanning for any sign of life. When satisfied, they open the hatch and yank me out, my feet barely touching the ground as they hustle me toward the elevator.
The ride is silent, the numbers flickering until we reach the eleventh floor. The doors open, and I’m carried into a sterile apartment. It’s devoid of life—just a sofa and a small TV on the floor. No pictures, no personal touches, just the smell of fresh paint and new carpet. A place where no one has truly lived.
Kevin drops me onto the couch, and Sarah approaches me, her voice cold and sharp. “We’re taking the tape off your mouth. These walls are soundproof, so if you scream or make any noise, no one will hear you. If you can’t follow instructions, the tape goes back on. No exceptions. Understand?”
I nod, bracing myself. She rips the tape from my skin in one vicious motion. “Fuck!” I hiss, pain searing across my face.
Her eyes narrow. “What time are you supposed to start getting ready tomorrow?”
I don’t want to answer. I don’t want to communicate with her. But I know defiance will only make things worse. “Ten in the morning.”
A cruel smile twists her lips. “Lance, push the text to ten-fifteen. Let them sweat a little.”
Lance, ever obedient, pulls out his phone once more.
“Why?” My voice trembles with anger. “Why are you doing this? You’re my mother, for Christ’s sake.”
Her expression hardens. “I’m not your mother, Genevieve.”
“Damn right you’re not,” I spit. “A real mother wouldn’t do this to her own child.”
She leans in, her eyes boring into mine, a mocking smirk on her face. “I knew your parents. But they’re dead. Have been for three years. I’m not your mother, and I never was.”
The words hit me like a violent wave, my world crumbling in an instant. My parents—gone, all this time. No one told me. I’d never know them. They’d never know me. I feel the air leave the room, my mind reeling from the truth.
“Who are you?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“You can call me Grace.”
I struggle to make sense of it. “How did you know them? Why did you come for me?”
Her smirk widens, amused by my confusion. “You ask too many questions. Your only job right now is to sit here, be quiet, and wait for morning. Then we’ll see how much your fiancé is willing to pay for you.”