Chapter 28 #2
She smiles. “A talent I never knew I had. Maybe instead of children’s books, I should go into mind reading. Like you.”
I chuckle. I’d forgotten I said that to her once.
Isla barrels past her mother and flings her arms around my legs. “Tobias, up.”
My eyes mist over. She said my name. I bend down and lift her into my arms. “Well, hello there, pretty girl. I like this bow.” I tug on the bright purple bow in her hair.
“Bow.” She points at it and beams.
“She’s saying more and more all the time,” Rebecca says, pride knitted into every word.
“That’s because she’s a clever girl, aren’t you, Isla?”
“Clever.”
Rebecca said Isla’s therapist told her it’ll be a while before Isla is speaking in complete sentences, but every word she speaks is a gift neither of us ever thought we’d have. I’m more grateful than I can express.
“Let me text our group chat.” Rebecca beckons me inside.
Isla fidgets to get down, so I slide her to the floor. “You have a group chat?”
“Yeah.” She beams. “Isn’t it great? I actually have friends now.” Her expression softens. “Something else I have to thank you for. You not only gave me a family but friends, too.”
She’ll argue with me if I say she has nothing to thank me for, that it’s me who should be thanking her, so I don’t. I simply smile, too.
Her thumbs fly over her phone. She nibbles the inside of her cheek as she waits for a response. I stare at her, unable to drag my gaze away. She’s so fucking beautiful. Whatever roadblocks lie ahead, I’ve got to overcome them. For her. For me. For us.
And I will.
For the first time, a shred of hope blooms inside me.
Maybe, with the right help and facing up to what was done to me, there’s a chance I can heal.
I can be the man I should have been if it weren’t for the abuse suffered at the hands of Ava fucking Southall and her husband.
Just like Isla is growing into the child she should have been if it weren’t for her bastard of a father.
Fate.
Maybe Rebecca had a point after all.
“Okay, Imogen said to drop Isla off with her.”
We leave Isla with Imogen, and by the time we get outside, Benton and Caleb are in the car with the engine running. I give them the address, and we set off for the Southalls’ place in Sussex.
An hour later, Caleb turns into a small tree-lined street with bungalows on either side of the road. About halfway down, he pulls into the curb and cuts the engine. “We’re here, sir.”
“Thank you.”
I sit there, not moving. Now we’re here, I don’t know what to do. The anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface, but fear has assumed control. If the way I reacted at a mere photograph of this woman is any indication, I’m not going to respond well to seeing her in the flesh.
Maybe I should have left it a day or so, especially after discovering they were retired. It would be different if she was still teaching, then every second would count.
No. Rip off the plaster. I deserve the truth. I deserve answers. I deserve to fucking know why.
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
I turn to Rebecca, my wife, my rock, the support structure I never knew I needed and now couldn’t bear to live without.
“Please.”
We get out of the car. My stomach is in knots, and my chest feels too tight to breathe properly. Rebecca’s warm palm lands on my lower back, grounding me, giving me a piece of her strength to bolster my own.
I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t be this fucking scared to confront a woman in her sixties over something that happened more than two decades ago.
“I’m right here.” Rebecca’s quiet whisper is the catalyst.
I knock on the door.
“Coming,” a singsong voice calls out from inside. It’s not a voice I recognize. What if this isn’t her? What if the investigator has the wrong person?
She opens the door, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to recoil. It’s her, all right, in the flesh.
“Ava Southall?” My voice rasps. I clear my throat.
“Yes, dear.” She narrows her eyes. “If you’re here selling something, though, I’m not interested.” She points to a sign on the door: No canvassers.
I take a deep breath. “I’m Tobias De Vil. You tutored me when I was younger.” I watch carefully, looking for any signs of fear that her past has caught up with her, but there are none. Her expression is open and welcoming.
“Tobias. Oh, my goodness.” She touches a row of pearls hanging around her neck. “What a lovely surprise. Come in, come in.”
I shoot a glance at Rebecca. Her eyes say it all. Keep calm. Get inside, then hit her with it. Don’t risk launching in on the front step where she could slam the door in my face.
“This is my wife, Rebecca.”
Ava smiles. “Lovely to meet you, Rebecca. Would you like some tea?”
Tea. The British answer to every problem that ever existed. Not this one. I’m calmer than I thought I’d be. Especially after my reaction yesterday.
“We’re fine.” We won’t be staying long enough to drink it.
She leads us into the living room and motions for us to sit. “Let me get Harrison from his shed.” She rolls her eyes. “I swear he’d sleep out there if I let him. He’s going to be thrilled to see you.”
Once she leaves the room, I turn to Rebecca. “I’m not sure I can do this. What if I’m wrong? Memories can be wrong all the time, especially with kids. She seems… normal.”
“Memories can be wrong,” Rebecca says. “But your reaction came from deep trauma, Tobias.”
“You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No doubts.
I squeeze her hand. “Not sure what I’d do without you.”
She rests her head on my shoulder. “Same.”
The back door slams, and Ava returns with her husband in tow. His face is craggy, his hair completely white, his expression is as friendly and open as hers.
“Tobias De Vil as I live and breathe. What a wonderful surprise.”
“He didn’t believe me when I said you were here,” Ava says.
I offer up a tight smile. “Believe it.”
Harrison drops into a chair while Ava takes one by the window. “What brings you to our humble home?”
I glance at him, then turn to her. My nerves vanish, rage churning beneath my skin, lethal and menacing. “Something happened to me when I was in your care, and I think you know what that was.”
She blinks and sits up straighter. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t play games. I know what you did to me. I remember everything.”
Ava pales, clutching again at that string of pearls. Her mouth opens and closes. Nothing comes out.
“What are you accusing us of, lad?” Harrison snaps. “You want to be careful chucking around accusations without proof.”
It’s the reaction of a man who knows exactly what I’m talking about but thinks he can go on the offense and gaslight me into thinking I’m the problem. Rebecca leans closer, her body a support structure, propping me up, encouraging me to keep going.
“You want me to say it out loud? Fine. I’m accusing you of sexual abuse.”
Harrison launches to his feet and points at the door. “Get out.”
“No.” Courage builds within me, my spine straightening. “You watched. You were the director of some sick fantasy.”
Ava recovers with a fake laugh. I know a fake a mile off because I’m a fucking expert, and that was award winning. “Tobias, your mind is playing tricks on you. You were terribly traumatized by your mother’s and sister’s deaths. You’re not remembering correctly.”
“I remember perfectly well. Your reactions tell me all I need to know. Your crimes have caught up to you, and now I’ll make sure you pay for what you did to me, along with anyone else who was a victim of your sick minds.”
Harrison huffs a laugh. “Without evidence, you have nothing. You De Vils think you’re all powerful, but the police still need hard evidence to bring charges. It’s your word against ours.”
It’s as close to an admission as I’m likely to get, and it’s enough. I stand and reach out to Rebecca. “I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase ‘There’s more than one way to skin a cat.’ Watch your back. I’m coming for you.”
I walk outside and slam the door. On shaky legs, I make it to the car and slump against the seat.
“I’m so proud of you.” Rebecca wraps her arms around me and squeezes tightly. “What are you going to do? Go to the police?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want my name and my family’s name dragged into this.”
Her eyebrows dip. “So, they get away with it?”
“Fuck, no. Abusers never have one victim. I’m going to find the others.
Those who want to press charges will have my full financial backing to hire the best lawyers.
Those who prefer anonymity will have the protection of my family to ensure their names are kept out of it, too, and funding for therapy if that’s what they choose. Time’s up for the Southalls.”
“Yes. Time’s up.” She sounds almost wistful and I can’t help wondering if she’s thinking about the men who violated her. Soon, I’ll ask. Not today, though. The timing isn’t right.
I cradle her face and stared into her eyes for a few seconds. She nods, giving me the consent I was waiting for. I press my lips to hers.
At first, the kiss is gentle, leisurely. It’s Wren who deepens it. Her warm hands slide around the back of my neck, and she presses her breasts against my chest.
I pull back, breathing heavily. “Wren.” I rest my forehead against hers. “I want you. I want you so badly, but I’m not ready to try again yet.” I study her, watching for signs she’s hurt by my rejection, but her expression is open and understanding.
“Take as long as you need. I’ll be here waiting when you are ready.”
What did I do to deserve this woman? I knit our fingers together. “Can I take you to lunch?”
She giggles. “Like a date?”
“Absolutely. Married people can still date.”
“Then, yes, I’d love to.”
Caleb drives us to a small bistro on the outskirts of London that serves the best ravioli outside of Italy. If we had more time, I’d fly her there.
My stomach is full and my heart so much lighter when we leave the restaurant at a little after two. Confronting the Southalls has lifted a weight inside me—one I carried for so long without knowing the cause of it.
Revenge is good for the soul. Mine, at least. I’ve already fired off an email to the same investigator who found the Southalls with his next brief to locate their other victims. I didn’t mention I was one, and he didn’t ask.
He’s worked for my family before and, like anyone who works for us, discreet is his middle name. His signature is also on an NDA.
Besides, no one wants to piss off the De Vils, as the Southalls are about to find out.
Caleb opens the car door for us. Before we can get in, a voice calls out Rebecca’s name. In synchrony, we pivot.
Felicity La Salle comes dashing toward us. Instinctively, I move in front of Rebecca, but she shifts, standing beside me and facing Felicity head on.
“Hello, Felicity.” Her voice is steady with a dash of ice.
I slide an arm around her waist and brush her hip with my thumb.
“How is Isla?”
“She’s great, thank you for asking.”
Felicity ducks her head. “I am sorry for how I treated you. When Marcus died, I was in shock. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I did have Isla’s best interests at heart.”
Staying out of this conversation and letting Rebecca move into her power may be the right thing to do, but fuck me, it’s difficult.
I want to shield her from the pain, protect her from harm.
But as I glance down at my wife standing tall, shoulders back, chin proud, I realize she doesn’t need me to speak for her.
“What you did was atrocious.”
“I know. Please try to understand, I was grieving. Marcus was a dreadful husband to you, but he was my son, and I loved him. All I want is a chance to put things right. I even put the proceeds from Marcus’s house in trust for Isla when she grows up.”
Rebecca freezes for a moment, then blinks. “Wait a minute. It wasn’t just Marcus’s house. It was our house. How were you able to sell it?”
“Ah.” Felicity nibbles her bottom lip. “Marcus’s will named me as the sole beneficiary.”
That fucker. To not provide for his wife and daughter in the event something happened to him shows exactly the kind of man he was. I thought I couldn’t hate him anymore than I did. Wrong. I’ve hit a new level in despising that man now.
I tighten my hand on Rebecca’s to let her know I’m right there with her.
“Well, doesn’t that just about say everything.” She purses her lips. “Can we go please?” Pivoting, she steps toward the car.
“Rebecca, I’m begging you to let me see my granddaughter.”
My wife pauses, draws in a quiet breath and holds it for a second. Slowly, she turns to face Felicity. “I’ll think about it.”
There’s a moment where Felicity’s eyes narrow before she covers her irritation with a grateful smile. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”
We get in the car and Caleb drives away. I lift Rebecca’s hand to my lips and kiss her. “Proud of you.”
She rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m pretty proud of me, too.”