Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Ariana
Sunlight woke me before I was ready for it. It knifed through the curtains in thin, golden lines, landing across the rumpled sheets. My muscles protested when I moved, especially my knee, but the pain wasn’t as sharp as yesterday.
Unfortunately, the ache did nothing to dull the irritation simmering inside.
I’d barely slept, my mind replaying Henry’s voice on a loop, telling me I wasn’t his captive, but that I still wasn’t free.
And each time I thought about it, the more frustrated I became with the situation.
Sure, he sounded distraught when he spoke of walking up to the Jeep and seeing all my blood.
But was that enough of a reason for him to take away my freedom?
I blinked against the light and forced myself to sit up. The room smelled faintly of lemon and tea tree oil — soft, soothing, curated. Everything in this house was like that. Thoughtful. Comfortable. Controlled.
Just like the prison Victor kept me in.
It made my skin itch.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I limped toward the bathroom and went about my business before washing my hands and splashing cold water on my face. It did nothing to soothe the storm brewing inside me. If anything, the bandage on my forehead was a stark reminder of my captivity.
After twisting my hair into a messy bun, I made my way out of the room, intending to check on Mom in the guest house.
But halfway down the stairs, a familiar sound stopped me in my tracks.
Laughter.
Not just any laughter. My mom’s laughter.
It had been so long since I’d heard it without the brittle edge of confusion, I almost didn’t recognize it.
I followed it down the stairs and into the kitchen, the smell of bacon making my stomach growl. Mom perched on a stool by the island, drinking a tea as Henry moved through the open space.
It brought back memories of the first morning I woke up in the cabin. I’d been so taken aback to see Henry cooking, let alone for me. I wasn’t sure if I should even eat the bacon, since Victor never let me have any.
But Henry did.
He didn’t dictate what I did or what I ate.
He didn’t control me.
So why was I so eager to put him in the same category as Victor now?
Sensing my presence, Henry looked up from the frying pan, his green eyes locking on mine. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I replied evenly, turning my attention to my mom, who looked between us with interest.
I still hadn’t told her everything about how I met Henry and what led us to this point. I was still coming to terms with it myself. For now, all she knew was he’d witnessed someone try to abduct me and took me to safety.
If his version of events were to be believed, it wasn’t that far from the truth.
“How did you sleep, Ma?” I asked.
“Great,” she said brightly. “You?”
“Fine.”
It was a total lie.
“Bacon and eggs okay for breakfast?” Henry asked, setting a coffee in front of me. It was made exactly how I liked it.
Another small gesture that should have soothed me but instead made me feel like I was being handled. Controlled.
“Sure.”
The first sip burned just enough to wake me. I watched as he tossed a strip of bacon to Cato, who caught it and swallowed it without chewing before resuming his begging position, wagging his tail in the hopes of Henry throwing him even more scraps.
“I was just telling Henry about your ballet days,” Mom announced, taking a sip of her tea.
I groaned. “Oh, god. Not this story.”
Henry’s grin widened. “Is it true you wanted to take karate instead?”
“I wanted to break boards,” I deadpanned.
Mom laughed. “Her grandmother got her ballet lessons for her birthday, so we made a deal. Stick it out until the recital, then she could switch. I probably should have specified she had to at least attempt to follow the choreography.”
I stared at her, stunned by the clarity in her voice. She hadn’t told a story this easily in years. Hadn’t been able to remember details like this.
“What happened?” Henry asked, leaning against the counter, his smile crooked.
“Well,” Mom continued, “she made it to the recital, all right. But when the music started, she did her own thing. Half the class followed her because she’d been so confident in her routine. It was chaos, but in the best way possible.”
Henry laughed, a deep, unguarded sound that filled the room, but I refused to let it chip away at the wall around my heart.
“You little rebel,” he teased.
“I wanted to take karate.”
“And did you?”
“I did,” I said. “But I hated that, too.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “So what did you enjoy as a kid?”
Before I could respond, a soft voice broke through. “Sorry for the interruption.”
I glanced toward the doorway to find Krystal standing there, dressed in her scrubs.
“Dr. Irwin is here to check in on you, Daphne. See how you’re doing.”
“Can she have something to eat first?”
Krystal opened her mouth to answer, but my mother beat her to it. “I’ve already eaten,” she said with a breezy, matter-of-fact tone I hadn’t heard since I was a teenager. “I made myself some oatmeal earlier.”
“I’ll come with you to see the doctor,” I said automatically, already pushing back from my chair.
Mom stopped me with a gentle hand on my forearm. “You stay. Have some breakfast. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”
“I don’t think I know how,” I replied honestly.
She smiled, soft but firm. “You’ll figure it out. For now, let me be the mom again, okay?”
The words snagged something deep in my chest. “Okay.”
“And as your mom…” She squeezed my arm. “It’s my job to remind you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. So stay. Enjoy your breakfast.” She wrapped me in a tight hug and whispered, “He’s a good man. Give him a chance.”
When she drew back, she had that knowing gleam in her eyes. The same one she used to give me in high school when I claimed the late-night calls from my lab partner were just about our chemistry homework.
With one last smile, she followed Krystal down the hall, leaving me alone with Henry.
At least the dog was a buffer. A warm, breathing distraction following Henry through the kitchen as he set a plate in front of me — eggs, bacon, and a biscuit that smelled like butter and rosemary.
He sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.
There may have been a few feet between us, but his presence seemed to consume everything around me, even the air itself.
I picked up a strip of bacon and took a bite, savoring in the salt and grease. The eggs were runny, just the way I liked them. He’d remembered that, too.
As we ate, the only sounds were the scrape of forks and Cato’s occasional whimper for more bacon, which Henry tossed his way every so often.
“Do you have to work today?” I asked, glancing sideways at him, unable to stand the silence any longer. “Or do…whatever it is you do.” I furrowed my brow. “What do you do?”
“I own a cybersecurity firm.”
I tilted my head. “And what does that entail?”
“I help companies protect their networks from outside attacks,” he answered, cutting into his eggs. “Set up firewalls. Monitor for breaches. Test vulnerabilities.”
“By testing vulnerabilities,” I began slowly, “you mean hacking.”
“That’s one way of testing them.”
I studied him, all chiseled muscles and broad physique. He didn’t look like the stereotypical computer geek.
“I get the feeling you do more than ‘test vulnerabilities.’”
He paused, his knife hovering mid-air. His jaw tightened slightly before he said, “I find holes people don’t know exist and fix them. Or erase them.” His voice dropped lower. “Permanently.”
A shiver traced its way down my spine, and I sensed he wasn’t merely talking about deleting files.
“And yes,” he went on, “I do need to work today. There have been some recent developments I need to look into.”
“Is it about Victor?” I swallowed hard. “Do you know where he is?”
“Not yet.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “But I had a chat with Dr. Schaffer last night.”
“What did he say?” I asked somewhat cautiously.
Henry hesitated. His silence felt deliberate. Measured. Like he was deciding whether I could handle the truth.
“I have a right to know,” I pressed.
“I know you do.” He sighed. “I’m just trying to find a good way of telling you. But I don’t think there is one.”
My stomach knotted. “What is it?”
“Victor called him Sunday night,” Henry said finally.
“And?”
“According to Schaffer, Victor asked him to kill your mother. Make it look like natural causes.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, the sound catching in my throat.
“It looks like Victor’s in panic mode,” Henry went on, calm and clinical, though I could hear the tension underneath the surface. “In my experience, whenever someone’s panicking like this, they don’t last long. It’s only a matter of time before he makes a mistake. And when he does, I’ll be there.”
I stayed silent, my mind spinning. As much as I questioned whether to trust Henry, I couldn’t ignore the truth. If he hadn’t pulled my mother out of that care facility, she may have already been dead.
Or was this all yet another lie to endear me to him?
“Schaffer also told me about his arrangement with Victor,” Henry added.
“To make my mom think she was losing her mind,” I whispered. “More or less.”
“Yes. But that was just one part of it.”
My pulse quickened. “What else did he do to her?”
“Not to her. To other women. Victor paid him to sterilize them.”
I nodded, taking a bite of my biscuit.
“You don’t seem surprised by this,” Henry remarked.
“Victor is nothing if not cautious. I wouldn’t put it past him to send each of his mistresses to his doctor of choice so no one would find out about his indiscretions.”
Then I darted my wide eyes toward his, remembering what he’d shared about his daughter. How he believed Victor had been having an affair with her and killed her.
“Did you ask him about Sarah? Was she one of them?”
“He wasn’t sure. Said they all looked alike. I’m hoping he kept records somewhere I can access. It’s a long shot, but maybe Victor’s hiding out with one of these women.”
“Can’t you just ask Dr. Schaffer for their names? He’s obviously cooperating if he told you everything else.”
He looked at me, and I immediately knew that was no longer possible.
“Oh.” My voice dropped to a whisper.
“He hurt someone you care about,” Henry murmured. “So I hurt him. Made sure he can never hurt anyone else. Trust me. For what he did to your mother for over ten years, he got off easy. He deserved so much worse.”
His words hung heavy between us. He didn’t sound proud. Just resolute. Like it was a fact of life. I wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or grateful.
He tore his gaze from mine and pushed back from the table. Gathering our plates, he moved to the sink with the same quiet efficiency that somehow made him seem even more dangerous.
“If you need anything, my housekeeper, Shelby, is around. As is Krystal.” He turned and started down the hallway, Cato following obediently behind him.
“So that’s it?” I called after him, carefully sliding off the stool.
He faced me once more, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I can do whatever I want? Have free rein of your house?”
A small smile curved on his lips. “Of course.”
“I can leave then? Because that’s something I’d like to do.”
His shoulders tensed, his jaw ticking. “I told you last night. It’s not safe.”
“According to you,” I retorted, folding my arms.
“I’m trying to keep you alive, Ariana. That’s all.”
“And I’m trying not to feel like property again!” The words cracked out of me before I could stop them. “I lived ten years with someone who controlled every breath I took. And now you’re doing the exact same thing.”
His fists clenched at his sides. “I am nothing like that monster.”
“Then stop acting like him!”
“I’m protecting you,” he declared, leaning into me. “That’s not the same as controlling you.”
“Isn’t it?” My voice rose, trembling with anger I couldn't swallow down. “You say I’m not your captive, but you won’t let me step off your property. You say I have choices, but every time I make one that doesn’t align with yours, it’s suddenly too dangerous.”
“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to keep you alive.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I shot back. “But don’t pretend this is freedom. It’s not.”
He raked both hands through his hair, exhaling in frustration. “I’m sorry you feel like I’m keeping you prisoner. Truly. If you want to hate me for it, fine. Hate me. But I’d rather you hate me and live than love me and die because I let you walk into a death trap.”
My breath hitched, my traitorous heart skipping a beat at the mere sound of the word “love” rolling off his lips. But I didn’t have a chance to formulate a response before he turned sharply and stormed down the hallway, Cato trotting uncertainly after him.
The echo of his footsteps faded, leaving me standing alone in his quiet house.
Furious.
Shaken.
And more confused than ever.