Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
brYNN AND THE MANICURED LAWN
As I emerged from the dank, subterranean world of the Porter cousins’ basement cell, the blinding light of day stung my eyes. My legs, unaccustomed to freedom, carried me shakily through New Boston’s opulent Elite district. The immaculate streets were lined with palatial homes that gleamed like jewels under the sun’s unforgiving scrutiny. Autonomous cars glided silently by, their sleek designs showing off the wealth that saturated this part of the city.
I passed an Elite woman draped in fabrics that probably cost more than everything I’d ever owned. Her lips curled in a sneer, her cold stare narrowing as though my very presence sullied the air she breathed. Beside her, a maid offered me a conspiratorial smile, a fleeting moment of solidarity that warmed me more than the sun overhead.
Finally, Mr. Shoemaker’s grand mansion loomed before me, its fa?ade imposing and cold. Swallowing hard, I approached the door—this gilded threshold where my charade had once begun—and knocked. The door swung open, and Mr. Chad Shoemaker stood in the doorway, looking every inch the untouchable Elite in his tailored suit.
“Mr. Shoemaker, I—”
“What are you doing here, Brynn?” His voice was as controlled as ever, yet the ice behind each syllable made my blood run cold.
Well, shit. I’d hoped for a slightly warmer welcome, but this was Chad Shoemaker we were talking about. The man probably practiced his icy glares in the mirror every morning.
“Look, it’s not like I wanted to come back yet,” I said, matching his calm with my own brand of defiance. “The Porters figured out who I really am. They’ve kicked me out. I’m sorry, but the jig is up or whatever.”
Mr. Shoemaker’s expression warped suddenly. His brow furrowed deeply, veins bulging at his temples. His eyes narrowed to slits, and lips pulled back in a grimace that bared his teeth, making his entire face look almost grotesque with raw frustration.
I’d seen a lot of ugly things on the streets of New Boston, but watching Mr. Shoemaker’s face contort like that? That was a special kind of horror show. I took a step back, then another. The man had crazy eyes.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he hissed, stepping outside, his gaze darting around as if afraid of prying eyes. “The Porters…they were my buyers for the Nant-bots. But I went for a higher bid. And now? This. They take it out on my ‘daughter’ crap.” His fingers curled into air quotes, mocking. “What did you do to ruin the facade?”
Not only was I out of a job, but now I was getting blamed for his screw-ups. Typical Elite BS.
“Me? Nothing!” I shot back, anger flaring in my chest. “Joel discovered I was lying and he had proof. The cousins had printed photos of your daughter—the real Elizabeth. They knew I was an imposter. I’m probably lucky that Joel let me leave without any broken bones or worse.”
Around us, the mansion’s opulence felt almost oppressive; the long curving driveway, the trimmed hedges and green lawn, the air sibilant with the odor of affluence and arrogance.
I fought the urge to spit on his perfectly manicured lawn. All this wealth, and for what? So he could play his little games and use people like me?
He paced like a caged animal, each step quick and shaky. “Thus, they know now. The Porters know I have deceived them twice. This will not do. They’ll come after me again, my family, and even worse, my livelihood. All because you failed!”
I threw my hands up. “Are you nuts? I played my part, but they found out. I couldn’t keep lying.”
Oh, that was just too much. I’d played my part to perfection, risking my neck for his schemes, and this was the thanks I got?
“Look, you owe me. We had a deal.” I glared at him, my voice rising as much from desperation as anger. “I played your daughter as promised, and now it’s time to pay up.”
His laugh was menacing and devoid of warmth. “My dear Brynn, do you truly believe I would simply hand over a fortune to a girl who couldn’t even maintain her charade?”
“Forty thousand credits,” I spat out the sum like a curse. That money was supposed to be a fresh start for Kay and me. “You promised me forty thousand credits. Enough to get my sister and me out of the hellhole, out of the lower ranks.”
“Promises to someone like you are hardly binding.” He waved a dismissive hand.
“Someone like me?” I clenched my fists. If looks could kill, he’d be a pile of ash at my feet.
“Let’s not pretend you’re anything more than what you are, Brynn—a tool. And tools can be replaced,” Shoemaker said coldly.
I choked back the lump in my throat. “What are you talking about? We had a deal, Mr. Shoemaker.”
Deals. Promises. Words that meant jack in this cesspool of a city. I should’ve known better, but hope’s a stubborn bitch that refuses to die.
“And now we don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” He turned his back on me, effectively ending our conversation.
“Hey!” I shouted, grabbing his sleeve. “You can’t just—”
“Actually, I can.” The steel in Mr. Shoemaker’s tone made me let go instantly. “Boys!”
My stomach dropped faster than a lead balloon. I knew that tone. It was the sound of shit about to hit the fan, and I was standing dead center.
The front door swung open, and two mountains masquerading as men emerged. Their presence alone was intended to intimidate—their scarred knuckles, their biceps bulging like they were smuggling melons under their shirts, their faces twisted into permanent sneers by past fights or maybe by their own cruel nature.
Great. Tweedledee and Tweedledum on steroids. Just what I needed to make this day complete.
“Teach this bitch a lesson,” Shoemaker commanded.
“Sure thing, boss,” one grunted, his voice gravelly.
“Sounds fun, but she won’t put up much of a fight.” The other chuckled, cracking his knuckles.
“Wait, you can’t—” My plea cut short as a fist smashed into my stomach, folding me over with the shock of pain.
The other man socked me in the face, making my head whip and stars in my eyes.
“Please!” Tears welled up as I gasped for air, the taste of iron flooding my mouth. “Stop!”
The next blow sent me to the hard ground. I tried to fight back, covering my face and head with my arms. Fists and boots rained down on me until I curled up, trying to protect myself. The world spun around me in a blur, the sharp pain of each hit amplified by the sound of Shoemaker’s cruel laughter.
My body felt like a punching bag, each impact sending shock waves through my bones. The metallic taste of fear mixed with blood in my mouth, and I wondered if this was how I’d meet my end—beaten to a pulp on some dirty floor. Kay’s face flashed in my mind, and a surge of determination cut through the fog of pain.
I screamed. Tears blurred my vision as I desperately tried to defend myself, but I was overpowered by the brutal force of my attackers.
The world turned upside down and inside out, each throb of agony punctuated by their brutal assault. When I stopped moving and coughed up blood, the men paused. They were panting and staggering a bit. I could barely open my eyes.
My entire body felt like it was on fire, each breath a struggle against broken ribs and battered flesh. The hard cement walkway beneath me did little to ease the burning pain coursing through my veins. I wanted to curl up and disappear, to wake up from this nightmare.
Through my swollen, half-lidded eyes, I saw Shoemaker’s polished shoes approach. He crouched down beside me, his face a twisted mask of sadistic pleasure.
“Oh, Brynn.” He tsked, tracing a finger along my bruised cheek. I flinched at his touch, a pathetic whimper escaping my split lips. “You should have known better than to cross me. I always get what I want, one way or another.”
His words sent icy tendrils of dread down my aching spine. What more could he possibly want from me? I had nothing left to give.
Mr. Shoemaker snapped his fingers and the men hauled me roughly to my feet. The world tilted and spun, my legs barely able to support my weight. Bile rose in my throat.
“Take her to the car. And be discreet. I don’t want any more attention drawn to this little...incident,” Mr. Shoemaker ordered, straightening his cuff links, as if he were sending off an unwanted piece of furniture.
“Gotcha, boss,” they growled in unison.
“Shoulda kept quiet, girlie,” one of them taunted through the haze.
“Shut up and put her in the trunk,” the other snapped.
“Dead or alive when we dump her?” There was almost a playful note in his cruelty.
“Doesn’t matter.” The other’s indifference was chilling.
Black spots dotted my vision as they dumped me into the trunk of a sleek black car, like tossing out garbage. The lid slammed shut and I was left in darkness. My body ached and every movement sent a fresh wave of pain that made me nauseous. The engine roared to life, and the car drove off, every bump and turn a new universe of soreness.
Despair crashed over me, pulling me under like a riptide. Fresh tears streaked down my face as the car sped off into the night, carrying me toward an unknown fate worse than the death I wished for.
Funny how life works. One minute you’re trying to strike a deal, the next you’re struck down and stuffed in a trunk. If this was karma, she had one hell of a twisted sense of humor.
Sometime later, the trunk popped open, and I was dragged out again. In and out of consciousness, I felt the hard ground against my bruised body. They must have thought I was dead because they left me there on the doorstep, discarded and broken. The car tires screeched as they pulled away, their vile laughter echoing in my ears as darkness claimed me.
I wasn’t sure where I was. Nothing looked familiar, which meant I must have still been in the rich part of town. On hands and knees, I crawled. It took hours to get anywhere.
The pain was so intense, I was slipping away.
“He…el…elp,” I called out, my voice barely a whisper.
The door opened.
Blood caked my vision. “I had no where else to go.” I cried.
“Shh, I’m here.” Strong arms scooped me up.
I tried to speak. The words gurgle in my throat. My head flopped into his chest.
“Who did this to you?” he growled.
I tried to answer. Tears streamed down my face, smearing against his chest. Who had me? I blinked, trying to focus on the face above me. Joel? No, it couldn’t be. Last I knew, he despised me. His expression was one of disgust, which meant my mind was just playing tricks on me again.
Each movement sent fresh waves of agony coursing through me, and I bit back a whimper. The world tilted and swayed as Joel carried me inside, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the cold night air.
Soft sheets enveloped me as he laid me on a bed, but even that feather-light touch felt like sandpaper against my bruised skin. I could swear I sank into the soft mattress. Through half-lidded eyes, I watched Joel pace beside the bed, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Who?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I swear, Brynn, I’ll make this right. You’re going to be okay.”
“Shoemaker,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry.” His hand stroked my face.
The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard. This was Joel Porter, the man who’d sneered at me countless times before. Yet here he was, vowing vengeance on my behalf. My addled mind struggled to make sense of it all.
Joel’s fingers brushed against my hand, so softly I almost missed it. That tiny gesture spoke volumes. I wanted to ask why, to understand this sudden change of heart, but the words wouldn’t come.
As consciousness began to slip away, I heard Joel speaking urgently into his phone. “...yes, doctor, I need you here now. It’s an emergency...”
Of all the people to rescue me, it had to be Joel Porter. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding himself. I’d have laughed if my ribs weren’t screaming in protest.
The darkness pulled me under once more, Joel’s worried face the last thing I saw before pain and exhaustion claimed me completely. My mind drifted in and out of consciousness, the haze becoming my only solace from the pain.
I blinked, my eyes swollen and heavy. A middle-aged man with a kind face and glasses peered down at me, a medical kit in his hand. “You’re lucky, young lady. Joel called me just in time.”
That’s a stretch. If I were truly lucky, I’d be sipping mai tais on a beach somewhere, not playing human punching bag for Shoemaker’s goons. But I guess not being dead counts for something in this messed-up world.
I blinked again, my vision clearing enough to take in my surroundings. The room was a far cry from the dingy cell I’d been trapped in. Rich mahogany paneling adorned the walls, interspersed with ornate gold-framed paintings. Plush cream-colored carpet stretched across the floor, muffling any sound. The bed beneath me felt like a cloud, soft and yielding, with silken sheets that felt like utter softness against my skin.
“Where am I?” I croaked, my throat dry and raw.
The doctor’s kind face creased with concern. “You’re safe now, Miss Soto. Joel Porter called me, and not a moment too soon.”
Confusion swirled through my mind, along with the pain that radiated from seemingly every part of my body. “Joel? But...I don’t understand,” I croaked, wincing as I spoke.
Not only was I at the mercy of a Porter, but I was also indebted to one. The universe really had it out for me.
“Yes, Joel Porter. He said he found you on his doorstep barely alive.” He smiled. “I’m Doctor Davies,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. You have a broken arm, a broken nose that I had to reset, black eyes, and three broken ribs.”
I winced, each injury making itself known as he listed them. “Sounds like I look as bad as I feel.”
I felt like I’d gone ten rounds with a freight train and lost spectacularly. My body was one giant, throbbing bruise, and my face probably looked like abstract art. So much for my roguish street charm.
A small smile touched Doctor Davies’ lips. “You need to stay in bed, get lots of rest, and eat plenty of good food. I expect a full recovery, but it will take time.”
“Thanks, Doctor.” I yawned, sinking back into the pillows. The effort of staying alert was already draining me.
“I have given you strong pain meds that should be kicking in now. And I’ll be back in a week or so to check on you,” he said, packing up his medical bag. “Take care, Miss Soto.”
Doctor Davies moved towards the door.
A surge of panic rose in my chest. I didn’t know where I was, why I was here, or what had happened after I’d passed out. The opulence surrounding me felt alien and unsettling. My fingers clutched at the silken sheets, seeking any form of comfort or familiarity.
This place, with its fancy trappings and soft bed, was as foreign to me as the dark side of the moon. Give me a ratty blanket in a dingy alley any day—at least there, I knew the rules.
“Wait,” I called out, my voice shrill. “Can you...can you tell Joel I’m awake?”
Doctor Davies nodded, his expression softening. “Of course. Try to rest now.”
The door closed behind the doctor, and I was left alone with my thoughts and the unfamiliar luxury of my surroundings. The tick of an antique clock on the mantle seemed to echo in the vast room, marking time in a world I didn’t understand.
Joel strode into the bedroom, followed closely by Sebastian and Braxton. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of them, relief and apprehension washing over me.
“Hey there, tough girl,” Braxton said with a grin, though concern flickered in his expression. “How’re you holding up?”
I forced a smirk, ignoring the sharp pain in my ribs. “Oh, you know, just peachy. Nothing like a good beating to start the day.”
Sebastian stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “Is there anything you need, Brynn? Water? More pillows?”
“A time machine would be nice,” I rasped, then winced as I tried to shift position.
Joel moved to the edge of the bed, gently taking my uninjured hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent an unexpected vibration through me. “Brynn, I...I’m so incredibly sorry,” he said, his voice soft, kind. “I never should have kicked you out to face Shoemaker alone. It was reckless and stupid of me.”
I swallowed hard, caught off guard by the tenderness in his touch and the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah, well...we all make mistakes,” I teased, unsure how to handle this softer side of Joel. It was unreal…
The pain in my side, however, was very real. I winced, reaching under the covers to feel bandages wrapped around my torso.
“We want you to know,” Sebastian said, his tone gentle, “that you can stay here with us for as long as you need. We’ll take care of you, Brynn.”
Braxton nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, consider yourself our honorary cousin. We’ve even got a ‘Get Well Soon’ banner ready to hang.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I blinked rapidly, fighting back the unfamiliar sting of tears. “I...um, well, thank you.” I yawned, sinking back into the warmth of the bed.
I yawned again, the heaviness of sleep tugging at my eyelids. The warmth of Joel’s hand lingered on mine. I sank deeper into the plush pillows, my heart eddying with conflicting emotions all at once—gratitude, relief, and a stubborn thread of mistrust that refused to unravel.
“Get some rest, Brynn,” Sebastian said softly. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
I wanted to protest, but exhaustion won out, and I felt myself drifting off. The last thing I heard was Braxton’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle.
“Sweet dreams, tough girl. We’ve got your back.”
Days blurred into weeks, each one a hazy mix of pain, healing, and unexpected moments of comfort. The Porter cousins became constant fixtures in my recovery, their presence both comforting and unsettling. Joel would sit by my bedside for hours, his usual intensity softened as he read to me from books or shared stories from his childhood. Sebastian brought me gourmet meals that put my street fare to shame, while Braxton’s jokes and antics never failed to coax a reluctant smile from my lips.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was living in some bizarre alternate reality. These guys, with their designer clothes and million-dollar smiles, were supposed to be my enemies. Instead, here they were, fussing over me like mother hens. It was enough to make a girl question her sanity.
One afternoon, as I took my first tentative steps around the room, Joel’s strong arm supporting me, I felt a strange warmth bloom in my chest.
The heat of his skin seeped through my thin hospital gown, sending an unexpected heat through my body. I pushed the feeling aside, chalking it up to my messed-up hormones or maybe a side effect of the pain meds.
“You know, for a bunch of rich boys, you’re not half bad at playing nurse.”
Joel chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “We aim to please. Though I think Braxton’s bedside manner could use some work.”
“Hey!” Braxton protested from across the room, where he was arranging a truly ridiculous number of roses in a large vase. “I’ll have you know I’m a delightful caregiver. Right, Brynn?”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Oh yeah, nothing says ‘healing’ like your terrible jokes and off-key singing.”
As much as I hated to admit it, Braxton’s goofy antics were growing on me. Like a fungus, I thought wryly, but a weirdly endearing one.
While the days passed, I found myself liking their company. One evening, as Sebastian and I sat on the balcony watching the sunset, he turned to me with a gentle smile. “I checked on Kay, and she’s been asking about you. She’s settled in well with Marla, but she misses her big sister.”
My throat tightened at the mention of Kay. “Is she...is she okay? Really?”
A familiar pang of guilt twisted in my gut. I should be there with her, not lounging around in this fancy-ass mansion like some pampered princess.
Sebastian nodded, his eyes warm with understanding. “She’s more than okay, Brynn. I can bring here if you want. Just say the word.”
I swallowed hard, fighting against the lump in my throat. “I don’t know if I want her to see me like this...if I’m ready to...”
The words hung in the air, unfinished. How could I explain that I was afraid? Afraid that Kay would see the weakness in me, the vulnerability I’d always tried to hide from her, or that my appearance might scare her to death. She had warned me and told me not to take Shoemaker’s deal, but I hadn’t listened.
“It’s okay,” Sebastian said softly. “We’re not going anywhere. Take all the time you need. And just so you know, Joel gave Marla a crazy amount of money to help her community center, and Braxton’s been going done there almost daily to help out.”
I blinked, surprised by the sudden sting of tears. These guys were taking care of my sister, my people, when I couldn’t. It was a kindness I’d never expected, and it scared the hell out of me.
Oddly, the Porter mansion, once a prison, began to feel like...home. And the Porters themselves? They were becoming something I’d never dared to hope for—family. I’d spent so long building walls, keeping everyone at arm’s length. Now, these three men were bulldozing right through my defenses, and the scariest part? I was starting to think I might not mind.