33. Riley
33
RILEY
T he crowd at Halston’s ice rink is electric, buzzing with anticipation for the Huskies’ final regular season game. The energy is contagious, and even though Grayson is absent—saying he wanted to catch up on work he’d missed out on this past week—I can’t help but get swept up in the excitement around me. Aurora bounces up and down in her seat, her little hands gripping the edge of her tiny jersey—Logan’s number emblazoned on the back, the fabric hanging loose on her small frame. She’s never been to a hockey game before, and her wide eyes take in everything—the noise, the lights, the way the players glide across the ice.
I think back to sitting in my crappy apartment with Ava and Isabella, watching a previous game of Logan’s, and wishing I could share the experience with my daughter. Now I can’t believe that it’s really happening.
Royce squeezes my hand as if he knows where my head has gone, and I give him a genuine smile.
“Mommy! Ro!” she squeals, pointing excitedly as the team skates out for warm-ups. “It’s Lo!”
My heart swells at the sight of Logan, focused and determined as he circles the rink. When he spots us, his face softens into a smile, and he waves his hand. Aurora practically leaps out of her seat, waving back with all her might. “Lo! Lo!” she calls out, her voice somehow cutting through the crowd’s roar.
Logan’s grin widens, and he taps his chest where his heart is, then points at Aurora. It’s a gesture that melts my heart, and Aurora’s resounding squeal brings tears to my eyes.
As the game begins, Aurora’s excitement only grows. She doesn’t fully understand what’s happening on the ice, but she knows it’s important. Every time Logan skates by, she jumps up, cheering in that high-pitched voice that only a three-year-old can manage.
“Go, Lo, go!” she yells, her tiny fists pumping the air.
As the game progresses, a break in the action shifts everyone’s attention to the jumbotron, which suddenly lights up with the familiar "Kiss Cam" graphic. The camera pans over the crowd, catching couples who lean in for quick kisses, sparking cheers and laughter from the stands.
I’m not paying too much attention until I notice the screen has stopped moving, and there, in bright, colorful clarity, is Aurora and me.
“Oh, look!” I laugh, pointing up at the screen. “We’re on the Kiss Cam, baby!”
Aurora’s eyes widen with excitement, and she immediately leans in, planting a big, wet kiss on my cheek. The crowd erupts into cheers, and I can’t help but laugh, kissing her back.
But Aurora isn’t done. She wriggles out of her seat and crawls into Royce’s lap, her little hands cupping his face as she gives him an equally enthusiastic kiss. Caught off guard, Royce stares at her for a surprised moment, his cheeks tinted with color. He barks out a shocked laugh, his deep chuckle rumbling through him as he hugs her close.
I expect the camera to have moved on, so when I look up, I’m surprised to find it still lingering on us as catcalls and cheers grow louder. “Kiss him!” a tipsy freshman yells behind us, stamping her feet as others nearby egg us on.
Royce meets my eyes, his grin widening.
“Looks like they want more,” he teases, nodding toward the screen.
I laugh, feeling a rush of warmth despite the coolness of the rink. “Guess we can’t disappoint them, can we?”
Still grinning, I lean in, and Royce meets me halfway. The kiss is sweet and brief, but the crowd goes wild, the noise almost deafening. Aurora claps her hands, squealing with laughter between us, clearly delighted by the attention.
As we pull apart, Royce ruffles Aurora’s hair, and she beams up at us, her happiness infectious. I can’t help but smile as the camera finally moves on, but the moment lingers, a bright spot of joy amid everything else weighing on my mind.
“Mommy,” Aurora tugs on my sleeve as the team skates back onto the ice. “Is Lo winning?”
I glance at the scoreboard. The two teams are currently tied. “He’s doing his best, sweetie. But even if he doesn’t win, he’s still our hero, right?”
Aurora nods vigorously, her eyes shining. “Right! And heroes get milkshakes!”
“Is that right?” I chuckle. “Just heroes?”
Her eyes widen as if she just realized her mistake before she shakes her head vigorously. “Little girls do, too.”
The game continues, and I try to set my concerns for Grayson aside, for Aurora’s sake and Logan’s. Whenever Logan gets close to the boards near us, he glances up, searching for Aurora’s face. And every time he does, she squeals with delight, her hands waving frantically to get his attention.
Royce nudges me again, a knowing look in his eyes. “He’s playing for her tonight,” he says quietly. “You can see it.”
He’s right. The score may be tied, but Logan is a force to be reckoned with on the ice. He’d told me before how having me in the crowd motivated him, and I guess the same can be said for Aurora.
But despite the sweetness of the scene, the fact Grayson isn’t here with us sits wrong with me. I try to focus on the game, Logan, and Aurora’s joy, but my thoughts keep drifting back to him. He’s been quiet since the funeral yesterday. Distant. I just hope he truly did go into the office to catch up on work and not to drown his grief in the bottom of a bottle.
So when Royce’s phone lights up with a call from him, I encourage him to take it.
He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you here.”
Rolling my eyes, I gesture toward the scoreboard. “There’s less than fifteen minutes left. Just call him back and check he’s okay.”
“Exactly, there’s only fifteen minutes left. Whatever he’s calling for can wait.”
“He buried his Gran yesterday and has been holed up in his office all day, alone—probably to drink. I know you’re as worried about him as I am, so will you please just go talk to him?” I plead. “We’ll be right here.”
“Ry.” He exhales, shaking his head before he grimaces. “Why do you make it so hard to say no to you?”
I smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He snorts. “Sure you don’t.” The moment of levity gives way to a frown. “Stay here. I’ll probably have to go outside to hear him, but I’ll text Logan in case I’m not back before the end of the game.”
“Stay here—Got it.”
He rolls his eyes, a smirk quirking the corners of his lips before he presses a quick kiss to my cheek and stands, shuffling down the row of people and disappearing up the stairs.
“Mommy,” Aurora says a moment later, and I can tell by her tone that it’s urgent. “I need to pee.” Yup, of course.
“Baby, the game is nearly over. Can you hold it?”
She shakes her head, staring at me like she’s two seconds away from peeing her pants.
Sighing, I gather her things. “Okay, let’s go.” I glance across the rink, but Logan is deep in the game, so he doesn’t see us leave. Holding her much smaller hand firmly in mine, we climb the stairs out of the stadium and along the hallway until I spot a sign for the women’s bathroom.
“In here, sweetheart.” The bathroom is otherwise empty, and we squeeze into a stall, Aurora doing her business before I dump our belongings at the sink and help her wash her hands.
“Go dry your hands.” I point to the hand dryer as I grab our coats and bag from the floor. I’m bent over, my back to the door, as the sound of the hand dryer drowns out all other noise. That’s why I don’t realize someone else has entered the bathroom. Not until I stand up with our belongings in hand and turn to find Bertram holding my little girl hostage.
My heart pounds in my chest, each beat loud and desperate, as I take in the terrifying scene in front of me. Bertram’s hand is still firmly clamped over Aurora’s mouth, his fingers digging into her soft cheeks. Her wide, terrified eyes are fixed on me, and I can see the tears welling up, the panic seeping into her tiny body. The sight of it shatters something deep inside me.
“Please,” I plead, my voice trembling as I hold out my hand, willing him to see reason, to stop this madness. “Please, Bertram, she’s just a child. You don’t want to hurt her.”
“That’s entirely up to you, Riley,” he snaps, his voice sharp and fraying at the edges, lacking its usual cool confidence. There’s something different in his eyes, something wild and unhinged, as if the careful control he’s always prided himself on is slipping away.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady, my mind racing to find a way out. “I’ll do whatever you want,” I say quickly, “Just... let her go, and I’ll come with you. I won’t fight you, I won’t try to escape. Just don’t hurt her.”
Bertram narrows his eyes, studying me as if trying to gauge the truth of my words. He’s quiet for a long moment, and I can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as I wait for his decision.
“Promise me you’ll be a good girl,” he finally says, his voice tight. “That you won’t try anything, otherwise she’ll be the one to pay for it.” He shifts his grip on Aurora, his fingers digging into her small shoulder as he slowly removes his hand from her mouth. Her chest heaves as she gasps for breath, and I can see her lower lip trembling, but she doesn’t cry out. She’s too scared, too stunned to do anything but stare at me, silently begging for help.
“I promise,” I say, nodding fervently as I drop our belongings and step closer. “I won’t try anything. I swear.”
Bertram’s eyes flicker over me, searching for any sign of deception, but I force myself to remain calm.
“Where’s your phone? Leave it on the sink.” With shaking hands, I do as he says. He gives me another sweep before nodding, satisfied, and jerks his head toward the bathroom door.
“Let’s go,” he orders, dragging Aurora along as he moves toward the exit. My heart seizes in my chest, but I force myself to follow, my mind screaming at me to do something, anything, to get Aurora away from him. But I know I can’t risk it, not now, not when he’s so dangerously close to losing control. I need to bide my time, to wait for the right moment.
As we step out into the corridor, the noise from the game hits me like a wall, the cheers and shouts of the crowd filling the space around us. I glance around, searching desperately for Royce, for anyone who might help, but there’s no sign of him—of anyone. With only a few minutes left of the game, everyone is inside, counting down the minutes. As for Royce, I don’t know if he’s still outside talking to Grayson or whether he’s returned to our seats to find them empty. I never got a chance to message into the group chat to tell them where we were.
Bertram keeps a tight hold on Aurora, his other hand gripping my arm in a painful vise as we make our way through the stadium. The odd person we pass doesn’t look twice at us, and I don’t dare call out for help—not with Bertram’s fingers digging into Aurora’s little legs as he carries her, or the painfully tight hold he’s got around my waist.
The cold air hits me like a slap when we step outside, and I shiver, but it’s not just from the temperature. It’s from the fear, the sheer terror of not knowing what Bertram plans to do next.
A black car idles at the curb, the engine running, and Bertram heads straight for it, his grip on us unrelenting. My mind races, trying to come up with a plan, a way to stall him. I scan our surroundings, praying desperately for Royce to be out here. To see us.
“Mommy.” Aurora’s trembling voice has my gaze snapping to hers. She looks at me with wide, terrified eyes, and all I can think about is keeping her safe and ensuring she makes it out of this alive.
“Everything’s okay, baby,” I try to soothe, noticing how my voice wavers unconvincingly.
We reach the car, and Bertram opens the back door, shoving Aurora inside before turning to me. His eyes are wild now, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he grabs my arm again, pulling me toward the car.
“Get in,” he orders, his voice tight with barely restrained rage.
I glance around one last time, praying for some miracle, some sign that this nightmare is almost over. But all I see is the empty street, the car waiting, and the man who once held all the power in the world over me, now on the edge of losing everything.
And then, I get into the car.
Bertram closes the door behind me, and I hold Aurora close while she cries into my chest, and I cling desperately to the thin thread of hope that the guys will find us before it’s too late.
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Aurora alive until they do.
When I think this night couldn’t possibly get any worse, the car slows to a stop outside my worst nightmare. I squeeze Aurora tighter against me, but the words of reassurance I’d been muttering the entire journey shrivel up and die as I stare unblinking at the mansion now looming before us, its grandeur undiminished by time.
The sprawling, elegant estate stands tall, its pristine white facade gleaming in the spotlights set to illuminate its resplendence. Tall, manicured hedges line the driveway, leading to an ornate front door flanked by massive stone columns. Everything about it screams wealth and power.
Everything about it is a torment.
Memories flood back, each one more painful than the last. This is where it all began. Where my nightmares took shape. I can almost hear Bertram’s tender voice whispering in my ear, feel the suffocating grip of fear that choked me every day. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless drumbeat of terror.
How did I end up back here? Of all places, why here ? The sight of the mansion sends a shiver down my spine, my skin prickling with goosebumps. My knuckles have turned white from fisting my hands so tightly. It feels like a cruel twist of fate, dragging me back to the one place I swore I would never return to. My hands tremble, and I force myself to breathe, each inhale shaky and uneven. The fear is palpable, a heavy weight on my chest.
The car door is a welcome barrier between me and the past. One that is wrenched open all too soon.
“Out,” Bertram grunts, already reaching out to drag me out of the car. My arms tighten protectively around Aurora, even as I stumble, my knees weak at the thought of being back here.
“W-why are we here?”
“What are you talking about? We live here.”
Fuck me. He’s gone insane.
I look up at the house. It’s still as imposing as ever, a monument to the man who tried to break me. But I refuse to let it. I refuse to let him .
“I made sure to purchase the house when my son so daringly sold it upon my incarceration.”
With Aurora perched on my hip, he begins dragging me up the steps to the front door, which opens for him. Walking into the house is like stepping into a time capsule. Everything is exactly as I remember it. The grand chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its crystal droplets sparkling in the dim light. The marble floors are polished to a mirror-like shine, and the sweeping staircase with its ornate wrought-iron railing curves gracefully up to the second floor. The portraits on the walls, the antique furniture, the grand piano in the corner of the room – it’s all exactly as it was. The air smells faintly of lilies, just as it always did, masking the underlying scent of fear that once permeated these walls.
I stall in the doorway, the weight of the past pressing down on me. Memories assault me from all sides, dragging me back to moments I thought I had buried deep.
The first time I saw Grayson flashes before my eyes. He was standing at the top of those stairs, looking down at us with a mixture of curiosity and reservation. I had felt so out of place, a stranger in this world of luxury and power. But there had been something in his eyes, a spark of something I couldn’t quite identify, that had given me hope.
Then, the darker memories creep in. I remember the constant fear that gripped me every time I walked through this door, never knowing if tonight would be a night Bertram would come or if I’d be lucky enough to be left alone. I remember how my heart would race, my palms sweating as I braced to step inside and close the door, effectively locking me into my fate.
And then that final day… Grayson, standing in the middle of this very foyer, his face a mask of fury and pain. “Get out of my house! I don’t want to see you again!” he had shouted at my mom and me after his father was arrested. The betrayal and hurt in his eyes had cut deeper than any wound Bertram had ever inflicted.
I bite down on my tongue until the taste of copper floods my mouth. I need the pain to ground myself. To stop the memories from sweeping me away. The weight of them is crushing, but I force myself to breathe. In and out. In and out. I’m not that scared girl anymore. I’m stronger now. I have to be, for Aurora. For the guys. For myself. For us—all of us. Our family.
Focusing on my breathing, I take a tentative step deeper into the house. My heart pounds in my chest. Everything is so painfully familiar, yet it feels like a lifetime ago. The house’s opulence is suffocating, a gilded cage that once held me prisoner.
The sound of the front door snicking shut has me whirling. Bertram stands there, watching us with an unhinged sort of reverence that chills me to the core more than anything else in this mausoleum of a house. He’s smiling at us like we’re his whole world, and he’s the indisputable king.
“How nice is this?” he says, sounding nothing like the menacing man who stepped into the bathroom and grabbed my daughter. He holds his hands out to his sides, indicating the house. “Everything can finally be how it should.”
He moves closer, and I’m frozen in place, terrified of moving and setting him off. Standing over us, he cups my cheek. His touch burns like a brand. “My precious family.”
The possession that drips from his every word…
His gaze slides to Aurora, who clings to me like a spider monkey as she stares at him with terror. He either doesn’t notice or care as he smiles down at her, the expression more haunting than anything. “Why don’t you go put the little one to bed? You remember which room it is.” I shiver, and he seems to mistake my revulsion for something else as he smiles lovingly, like we’re sharing sweet memories. Stroking a finger down my cheek, he adds, “Then you can join me in mine.”
Nope. No. Abso-fucking-lutely not.
“It’s her first night in a strange house—strange bed,” I hedge, doing my best to keep my voice soft as I parse out the words in the way that’s most likely to get him to leave us the fuck alone. “She won’t settle by herself.” A flash of that anger darts across his irises, and I’m quick to add with an apologetic grimace, “She’ll just end up in with us.”
He definitely doesn’t want that. His lips purse, not pleased, but not enraged either.
“Fine,” he eventually relents before flashing me another one of those terrifying smiles. “Stay with her tonight. Tomorrow, you can explore the house and get her settled, and we’ll celebrate all of us finally being together with a special meal.”
I have to engage muscles I don’t typically use to force my lips upward into his desired response. “Sound’s perfect.” I nearly vomit.
With that same smile in place, he leans in, clearly intending to kiss me on the lips. I move my head at the last minute, and he catches my cheek. Thankfully, he lets it go. Not wanting to spend another moment in his presence, I hold Aurora close as I cross the foyer toward the stairs. “Oh, and Riley,” he calls after me. Like before, there’s an edge to his voice, which was all an act, and this is the real him. I pause but don’t dare to look back at him over my shoulder. Instead, I wait. “Don’t even think of trying to escape. I’ve got all the doors and windows sealed shut, and only I have a key for the front door. You cannot run this time.”
Trembling like a leaf, my heart is lodged in my throat, and I’m seconds away from vomiting as I haul ass up the stairs. Despite the distance I’m putting between us, every step is like trudging through sludge. An invisible tug pulls me forward, my body seeming to know where I need to go even as my mind revolts at the idea of stepping foot back in there.
The hallway stretches before me, with its familiar cream carpet and white walls lined with portraits. About halfway down, my eyes lock on the white door, which appears so ordinary and so deceptively harmless.
But I know better.
The house is eerily quiet. Even my footsteps are muted on the thick carpet as I gingerly draw closer. The door seems to grow larger with every step I take, its plain surface mocking me with its normalcy. There are no visible signs of the horrors it conceals, no clue to the terror embedded in the wood. Regardless, I can feel it. The fear and desperation of my younger self seeps into my bones, a cold, suffocating presence that clings to me.
I remember every detail of what happened behind that door. The late nights when the house was dark and silent, save for the creaks and whispers that filled my head with dread. I remember how Bertram’s voice would cut through the silence, soft and terrifying. How I’d freeze, my body going cold with fear. The way he’d smile, a predator’s smile, as he slipped into my room. My bed. Every moment in his presence is designed to break me a little more.
My breathing grows shallow, the walls closing in around me as the memories press down like a physical weight. Needing a moment, I stop, hand flat to the wall to keep myself upright as I close my eyes and force deep, shuddering breaths into my lungs.
Still, that tug on my chest drags me closer.
I reach out with a trembling hand, fingers brushing against the door's cool, smooth surface. It’s like touching a live wire, and a jolt of fear shoots through me.
I can see it all so clearly in my mind: the times I cowered in the corner of that room, trying to make myself as small as possible, the nights I wept into my pillow, the hours I spent hiding from reality in the back of my closet, Grayson’s bracelet my only source of comfort.
The countless moments of hopelessness, wondering if I would ever escape. If I would ever be free.
And here I am, right back where it all started. Was I ever free of him? Was I ever truly safe, or has it all been some cosmic joke?
Unbidden, my fingers move to the handle, pressing it down. The door swings inward, silent on its hinges as I step into the room.
Same pink walls.
Same white carpet.
Same pink bedsheets.
I close my eyes, pressing my back against the door as I force myself to breathe.
“Mommy?”
I slowly open them, glancing down at my daughter, who needs me more now than ever. I force my lips into what I hope is a reassuring smile before I walk over and set her down on the bed.
“Everything’s going to be okay, baby. Mommy’s going to get us out of here.” Somehow.