Chapter 3 #2
“Will this do?” she says, opening the door of one of the rooms a few turns from the staircase with a flourish. “We don’t get many guests here.”
The smell hits me first—floral cleaner, so strong it stings my nostrils. My boots squeak on the gleaming, damp floors, announcing my presence like a cartoon character. Of course they do.
The room is smaller than Severin’s master suite by a country mile, cozier, some would say. I move toward the French doors, needing air, needing space. But the bright new locks stop me.
Mrs Oakley clears her throat, waiting for me to reply. I turn back to face her, catching my reflection in a large mirror I hadn’t noticed, set under a beam, making the room seem twice its size.
Another lie.
I gnaw my lip, feeling trapped.
Mrs. Oakley gives me a concerned look when I don’t say a word. “You missed breakfast, but if you’re hungry, lunch will be ready in about half an hour. You might want to explore the house before then, but please be careful. Some areas are still under construction, as I mentioned last night.”
“I’m allowed to look around?” I had a mad notion I’d be locked in my room.
“Of course, you are.” She sighs loudly. “Though if I were you, I wouldn’t wander too far. Master Troy doesn’t like to be disturbed while he’s working.”
Last night’s nightmare, when he held me roughly down on the bed and almost strangled me, flashes through my mind. As well as the feel of his mouth, bruising mine.
“W-will I…see him later?”
She shrugs. “I assume so. Now you’re here, why wouldn’t you?”
Something low in my belly twinges at that. It makes my face flush, but I squash it flat and turn away so Mrs. Oakley can’t see.
Afternoon light streams through the glass, almost blinding me. For something to do, anything, my hand glides over the lovely dresser, my fingers brushing against fresh lavender in a vase.
I hear Mrs. Oakley start towards the door. “I’ll leave you to get settled, then.”
“Did you know my sister?” I blurt out before she can leave, turning to face her. As I do, the sweet scent of the flowers mingles with the chemical cleaner, cloying the air, making me want to choke.
She stops mid-stride. “Your sister?”
“Nell. She was engaged to Severin before me.” I pause, unsure if I should just come right out with it. “She came here, to Grayfleet, too.”
She turns to face me. “I didn’t think anyone came here before you.” Her voice seems guarded.
“Nell did…She disappeared. They think she may have fallen or drowned in the lake.” I say it so I’m not accusing anyone. I’m just making conversation. Not that I know for sure that’s what happened. No one tells me anything. I’ve had to figure out everything on my own.
Mrs. Oakley’s expression shutters. “I don’t remember. I wasn’t here then. I didn’t move in until Master Troy bought the property.”
“He bought it the day they were engaged.” I know because I checked the land registry. The property transferred to one of Severin’s subsidiaries that same day.
It was also the day I was admitted to Newgate Hospital under Dr. Fogg’s supervision…
I had a breakdown, my parents said.
Not that I remember. Everything about that period is hazy. I don’t even remember Nell leaving to come here, yet she did.
It was only after I recovered that I found her diary. Wrapped in plastic, pages soaked through with blood. Half of its pages were gone, torn out. My father said Darrow, my father’s man, retrieved it from this place, beneath the tower at Grayfleet.
In my dreams, I see it wedged between rocks, paper fluttering in the wind like a wounded bird, dark brown stains marring the edges of the few pages left.
“I see.” She glances over her shoulder. “Well, no one was here at that time because of the renovations.”
“My sister—”
“Your sister shouldn’t have been here either.”
“But if you know something about Sev—” I stop. I’ve said too much. I really shouldn’t accuse him outright. Not to his house manager.
Mrs. Oakley frowns. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but Master Troy wasn’t here when he first bought the property either.
He was in America, finishing up business overseas.
” She pauses, looking right at me. “ I was told his fiancée would not be arriving as planned. That I do know. Now, if you’ll excuse me. ”
“Wait—”
“I’m sorry, I really must go. There are things I need to attend to.”
Chest tight, feeling nauseous all of a sudden, I grab her arm. “Please.”
Her eyes narrow. She looks down at where I’m holding her. Oh God, I’m manhandling Severin’s staff now. Just great.
Immediately, I let go of her. “I’m so sorry, I—”
She tuts. “Miss Lovett. If something did happen to your sister, then it was a very tragic accident, and I’m very sorry to hear that happened.
However, I don’t recall hearing or seeing anything of the sort when I arrived.
That sort of thing usually comes with a circus of authorities poking their nose where they don’t belong.
I would remember that.” She sighs. “Perhaps it’s best if you rest for a while? Shall I fetch you some tea?”
I shake my head. Tea won’t fix this.
When she’s gone, I sink onto the edge of the four-poster bed, my thoughts breaking apart.
He wasn’t here.
Troy Severin wasn’t even in the country when Nell disappeared.
No, that can’t be right. Mrs. Oakley is lying. She has to be. His staff must cover for him all the time. He probably pays them a fortune to lie, to live out here isolated, cut off from the rest of the world.
Because if he wasn’t here...
I press my palms to my eyes until my vision distorts in a flash of stars. No. I can’t allow myself to follow that train of thought.
I can’t.
After a few ragged breaths, I drag my hands away from my face and clutch the bed sheets instead. The cream sheets are incredibly soft beneath my hands…almost too soft for this dreadful house, where I am, effectively, a prisoner.
Out of the corner of my eye, the mirror feels like it’s watching me; its glass slightly distorted, as if the surface is warped. Even my reflection looks a bit wonky.
The whole place is wrong…
A pretty prison with secrets in its walls, surrounded by dark water that can hide anything at all.
Severin was here.
She didn’t just fall...or jump. Her diary is proof that something bad happened.
But no one sees it.
Either they think I’m losing it and treat me like a sick child, or they ignore me and change the subject. No one cares because they’re all too busy trying so hard to keep this damn deal in place so that my parents don’t have to give up their debauched lifestyle.
That’s what I’ve become, the perfect bargaining chip for the Executioner—that’s what they’re calling Severin in the papers, and not because he acquires companies by bleeding them dry. The latest article from The Executive Review is burned into my brain as though it was written in acid…
Troy Severin’s reputation precedes him: calculating in negotiations, cold-blooded in execution, and utterly unforgiving in the boardroom (and everywhere else).
An obsessive-compulsive when it comes to eliminating inefficiencies, his colleagues whisper that working for Severin means never making the same mistake twice. There is no second chance…
And then there are other rumors, darker ones that aren’t quoted in magazines; prison time, mafia connections, business rivals who mysteriously vanish, that he’s a goddam cannibal…
I press my hand to my stomach.
That last one always gets me. Especially as Nell came to this island and never left. And now I’m here too, sleeping in a room that smells of fresh lavender and bleach.
Like someone tried very, very hard to clean up.