22. The Evidence
TWENTY-TWO
The Evidence
I don't know how long I've been in the room.
The windows in the guest room face east, so I know I've seen the sun rise once. That means it's been at least twelve hours. Maybe more. The staff brought a tray of food, left it on the floor outside, unlocked the door for ten seconds, then locked it again, but I didn't eat.
I sit on the floor with my back against the wall, knees pulled to my chest.
The Protocol is quiet. Without the daily dose, or maybe just because of the time elapsed since the Enhancement, the chemical fire has banked down to coals. The frantic, desperate need for Sebastian's touch is gone. There's only... clarity.
Cold, but clear.
And in that clarity, I see the trap I've walked into.
Carlo was right. He was manipulating me, yes, but he was right.
I started to think the walls were there to protect me.
I started to mistake the cage for a home.
I let ten days of sex and shared meals and silence make me forget that Sebastian York is a man who solves problems by making them disappear.
Contain him. Break his legs. Lock him in a basement.
He wasn't speaking metaphorically.
The lock clicks.
I don't move. I don't scramble to my feet or smooth my hair or try to look like the "good girl" he wants. I just watch the door handle turn.
Sebastian pushes the door open.
He looks tired. That's the first thing that registers. The lines around his eyes are deeper, his mouth set in a grim line. He's wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. The pristine shirt is creased, the top button undone. He hasn't slept.
He looks at me sitting on the floor.
"Get up."
"Why?"
"Because I'm done arguing with you." His voice is devoid of emotion. Not angry, not pleading. Just resolved. "You want to see the problem? Come see it."
"What did you do?" My heart hammers against my ribs. "Sebastian, where is he?"
"Living room. Get up."
I scramble to my feet. My legs are stiff, my head light from lack of food, but adrenaline floods my system. I rush past him into the hallway.
He doesn't grab me. He doesn't need to. He knows exactly where I'm going.
I run down the hall, past the library, into the massive open space of the living room.
There are three men standing near the windows. Two of them are security. Large, silent, suits indistinguishable from the ones who guard the casino floor.
The third man is slumped in one of Sebastian's cream leather armchairs.
"Bennett."
He looks up.
He looks terrible. Worse than the night in the break room.
His skin is gray, his eyes sunk deep into his skull, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them.
He's wearing dirty jeans and a hoodie that smells, even from ten feet away, of stale smoke and sweat.
He's shaking, a fine tremor running through his hands where they grip the armrests.
"Chloe." His voice is a croak. "Jesus, Chloe."
I move toward him, but one of the security guards steps in my path. I stop, looking back at Sebastian as he enters the room.
"Let her through," Sebastian says.
The guard steps back.
I rush to the chair. I kneel beside it, not because Sebastian ordered me to, but because my legs give out. I reach for Bennett's hands. They're ice cold and clammy.
"Are you hurt?" I demand, scanning him for injuries. "Did they hurt you?"
"I need water," Bennett rasps. "My head is killing me."
"Get him water," I snap at the nearest guard. The man doesn't move. He looks at Sebastian.
Sebastian nods once. The guard heads for the kitchen.
"Bennett, look at me." I squeeze his hands. "Did they hurt you?"
"They just... grabbed me." He licks his cracked lips. His eyes are darting around the room, taking in the art, the view, the sheer aggressive wealth of the penthouse. "Grabbed me off the street. Threw me in a van. Brought me here."
"I told you," Sebastian says from behind me. "I contained him."
"You kidnapped him." I turn to glare at Sebastian.
"I retrieved him." Sebastian walks around the sofa. He stands comfortably, hands in his pockets, looking down at Bennett with an expression of clinical distaste. "Before Carlo's men could find him and peel his skin off to send a message to me."
The guard returns with a glass of water. Bennett snatches it, drinking greedily, water spilling down his chin. He wipes it with his sleeve.
"Better," he mutters. Then his eyes focus on me again. "Chloe. You gotta help me."
"I’m helping you," I say soothingly. "I'm right here. We're going to figure this out."
"No, you don't understand." He leans forward, gripping my wrist. His nails dig in. "I owe money. New money. Not the Moreno debt. New guys. They're not patient. They said if I don't have ten grand by tonight..."
I stare at him.
Ten grand.
He just escaped a rehab facility that cost a fortune. He's sitting in the penthouse of the man who bought his life for $2.3 million. And he's asking me for ten thousand dollars.
"Bennett," I whisper. "How?"
"I needed a stake," he says, the words tumbling out fast now, the addict's logic spinning its web. "I had a system. I was going to win it back, pay everyone off, get us out of this. I just needed a stake, so I borrowed a little, and then the cards turned cold, and..."
He trails off. He looks at Sebastian, then back at me.
"He's rich," Bennett whispers, jerking his head toward Sebastian. "Look at this place. Ten grand is nothing to him. Ask him. He'll give it to you. You're his... you know. He's keeping you here. He owes you."
The air leaves the room.
Sebastian's gaze burns against my back. Heavy.
He owes you.
Because I'm the currency Bennett spent. And now he wants change.
"I can't ask him for money," I say, my voice trembling.
"Why not?" Bennett's grip tightens. "He bought you, didn't he? That's what the guy said. Cleared the Moreno debt in exchange for you. So ask him. Tell him your brother needs help. If you do it right... if you're nice to him..."
He gives me a look. A knowing, wheedling look. The look of a pimp instructing his girl on how to work a mark.
Sickness rises. Physical sickness.
"Bennett," I say, pulling my hand away. "Stop."
"Don't be like that. Mom and Dad wouldn't want you to leave me hanging. They told you to look out for me. Remember? Take care of Benny. That's what they said."
The guilt hits me like a fist. The ancient, programmed button he has been pressing since I was seventeen.
"I have taken care of you," I say, tears pricking my eyes. "I sold myself for you. I’m here, in this room, in this life, because of you."
"And I appreciate it. I do." He looks frantic. "But I'm in trouble now. Real trouble. If I don't pay these guys..."
"Enough."
Sebastian's voice cuts through the pathetic tableau like a blade.
He steps forward. He places a black leather briefcase on the coffee table.
Bennett's eyes lock onto it. Hunger, raw and ugly, flares in his face.
"There is fifty thousand dollars in this case," Sebastian says.
Bennett licks his lips. "Fifty?"
"Cash. Untraceable." Sebastian looks at Bennett, then shifts his gaze to me. His eyes are cold, challenging. "This is the test. Watch."
He turns back to Bennett.
"The money is yours," Sebastian says. "On one condition."
"Anything," Bennett says immediately. He hasn't even looked at me. His eyes are glued to the leather case.
"You take the money. You leave this city. You never contact your sister again."
I freeze.
"You disappear," Sebastian continues. "For real this time. You don't call her. You don't write. You don't come looking for handouts. You vanish from her life completely."
Bennett looks at the briefcase. Then he looks at me.
I hold my breath.
This is my brother. The boy I raised. The boy I held when he cried. The boy I sacrificed my future for. Surely, fifty thousand dollars isn't enough to?—
"Okay."
The word hangs in the silence.
"Okay?" I whisper.
"I mean, it's fifty grand." Bennett looks at me, pleading for understanding, pleading for absolution. "I can start over. I can really fix things this time. And you're... you're safe here, right? He's taking care of you?"
"You're leaving me," I say. "For money."
"I'm setting you free," he says, the lie smooth on his tongue. "You don't have to worry about me anymore. It's better this way. Mom would want me to have a fresh start."
He stands. He reaches for the briefcase.
Sebastian puts his hand on it.
"Say it," Sebastian commands. "Tell her she isn't worth staying for."
"Don't," I say. "Sebastian, don't."
"Tell her," Sebastian roars, his composure shattering. "Tell her that you sold her to Carlo Moreno for your life, and now you're selling her to me for cash. Tell her the truth so she stops looking at me like I'm the monster."
Bennett flinches. He looks terrified of Sebastian.
"I..." Bennett looks at me. His eyes are watery, weak. "I gotta go. I'm sorry. But I gotta go."
Sebastian lifts his hand.
Bennett grabs the briefcase. He clutches it to his chest like a life preserver. He doesn't look at me again. He turns and scuttles toward the door, flanked by the guards.
The door opens. Closes.
He's gone.
Silence descends on the room. A terrible, ringing silence.
I’m still kneeling on the floor beside the empty chair. The smell of stale smoke lingers in the air.
"There," Sebastian says.
I look up at him.
He stands over me, tall and victorious. He looks like a prosecutor who just won his case. He looks like a god who just proved that faith is for fools.
"Now you see," he says. "He didn't care about you. He didn't care about your sacrifice. He cared about the money. He has always only cared about the money."
He extends a hand to me.
"Get up. Admit it. I was right."
I look at his hand. It is clean. Manicured. Strong.
And I hate him.
I hate him more in this moment than I did when he strapped me to his bed. I hate him more than when he told me I was property.
Because he is right. Bennett is trash. Bennett used me.
But Sebastian didn't do this to protect me. He didn't bring Bennett here to give me closure.
He brought him here to win.
He brought my brother here, dangled money in front of his addiction, and watched him destroy me, just so he could prove a point. Just so he could say I told you so.
It was cruel. It was unnecessary. It was a dissection of my heart performed without anesthesia.
"You paid him to leave me," I say, my voice shaking.
"I paid him to show you who he is."
"You tempted an addict." I stand, ignoring his hand. I push myself to my feet, swaying slightly. "You put a pile of cash in front of a drowning man and told him he could breathe if he stepped on my head."
"He stepped on your head years ago," Sebastian snaps. "I just turned on the lights so you could see the footprint."
"You enjoyed it."
"I did not enjoy it." He looks offended. "I solved a problem. He is gone. He won't hurt you again."
"You hurt me." I scream it. "You hurt me. You think Bennett is the only one who uses people? Look at what you just did. You used him to break me. You used my family as a prop in your little lesson about how right you are."
"I did it to set you free."
"Free?" I laugh, and it sounds like glass breaking. "You didn't do this to set me free. You did it to clear the board. You wanted him gone so I wouldn't have anyone left but you."
Sebastian goes still.
"You wanted to isolate me," I say, stepping closer. "Just like Carlo said. You wanted to prove that everyone else is worthless so I'd have no choice but to rely on you. To turn to you. To be yours."
"I wanted you to be safe," he says tightly.
"You wanted to be the only option."
I look at the empty chair. At the door where my brother walked out with fifty thousand dollars and didn't look back.
"You're right about him," I say quietly. "He's weak. He's selfish. He's an addict."
I look at Sebastian.
"But you're worse. Because you're strong. You have all the power in the world. And you used it to crush a bug just to show me you could."
"Chloe—"
"I want to go to my room."
"No." He steps into my path. "We are not doing this again. You are not locking yourself away."
"Then send me back to the guest room. Lock me in. Confine me. Do whatever you have to do." I look at him with dead eyes. "But do not expect me to thank you for this."
"I don't want your thanks." His hands clench at his sides. "I want you to see the truth."
"I see it," I say. "I see exactly what you are."
I walk around him.
He lets me go.
I walk down the hall. My legs are numb. My heart feels like a stone in my chest. Heavy, cold, dead.
I go to the guest room. I close the door.
Bennett is gone. He took the money. He left me.
Sebastian was right.
And I will never forgive him for it.