Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
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C ora
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I can’t shake the dumbfounded look off my face as I stare at the two women in front of me. They can only be here for one reason.
“Ms. Cora? Are you all right?” Henry asks, looking ready to throw out my guests if I say the word.
“Of course she’s all right,” Cynthia Anderson says, linking her arm with mine. Her nails dig into my flesh—a warning. “She’s just happy to see us, right?”
“Yes, thank you, Henry. I’m fine. Just surprised,” I reply, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. He smiles back and reminds me to call if I need anything.
Once we’re alone and the door shuts, Cynthia reveals her true self, and her shadow, Summer, eagerly follows suit.
“Well, well, well. Did you think this was going to be your ticket out of the ranch?” Cynthia says, striding through the apartment as if she owns it.
I follow her and we’re now in one of the reception rooms, away from the entrance of the apartment.
If she’s referring to the pleasure debt, then yes, that’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted that to be my ticket out of the ranch.
All my life, I’ve lived in their shadow. Cleaning their house, cleaning after them, cooking for them, until they decided they didn’t want to look my face anymore and I was forced to get a job as a waitress to support my me and my dad.
So when the chance arose to escape them and the Anderson ranch for good, I took it.
“Is my dad okay?” I ask, my voice tinged with desperation. He’s the only person I’d beg for if it meant his safety.
“Who cares about your dad? He’s fine. But we’re here to let you know you can leave.”
“Are we free to go?” Could this really be it? Happiness courses through me, but lingering sadness threatens to overwhelm me at the thought of never seeing Kian, Flinn, and Sinclair again.
Tears spill from my eyes. I tell myself they’re tears of joy. I can finally take my dad out of the hellhole ranch he’s been trapped in—a prisoner to Pierre Anderson, the man he’s worked for since he was eighteen.
The ranch where my mom died, heartbroken that she couldn’t save him.
“I said you could leave, not that you’re free. You have to go back to the ranch. To your old life. You see, if I had known that old man Arlington was going to retire and his adopted sons would take over, I would have never insisted my father send you in my place.”
Right. Now it makes sense why Cynthia is here. When Pierre Anderson’s sentence was issued, both his daughters revolted. Their father had to come up with a new plan because there was no way any of them would let an old man touch them and ruin their lives.
They were too valuable, too prestigious, and too beautiful to be marred by a man nearing seventy, regardless of who he was. They were waiting to marry the handsome young prince.
They didn’t care about the consequences their father would face—his life if he didn’t compile with what the consortium demanded of him as repentance.
And that’s where I came in. The na?ve girl who works at a restaurant and is tied to the ranch because her dad can’t leave.
Pierre Anderson thought he could bully me into submission, but I made a deal with him. I’d comply, but once I cleared his debt with my body, my dad’s debt would be wiped clean, and we could leave.
My poor dad.
His sentence was so harsh that he doesn’t even know what a mall looks like or what it feels like to sit in a restaurant. He’s confined to the ranch, working ten hours a day. At sixty, how much longer can he survive the dullness of this kind of life?
Arthritis already eats at his bones. I want my dad to be happy, and I want to give him that. This was the only way.
“I want my dad’s freedom guaranteed.”
“Are you listening to me? It’s over. I’m here to take your place. I’ll tell the consortium who you are—just a ranch hand’s daughter who stole money from my father and is still paying it off. They’ll want nothing to do with you.”
“Wait,” Summer interrupts. “What if they slept with her?”
“They wouldn’t have,” Cynthia replies, but doubt creeps in. “Well, did they?”
“They did,” I say quietly.
“Kian?” Cynthia asks.
“Yes. And Flinn and Sinclair.”
Her eyes widen but she recovers quickly.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. If you were a member of the consortium, Kian, as the eldest head, would have to marry you. Since you can’t afford to buy your way in, it doesn’t matter.”
My mind races. Nothing was ever going to happen with me and them, but I refuse to walk away with nothing, only to go back to square one.
“Why do you think I’m here? In their penthouse when they could have sent me home? They want me. They said I’m theirs. All their money is at my disposal. You saw their staff. They would buy me a place in the consortium just to have me.”
“You bitch,” Cynthia snarls. “You’ll never see your father again. You’ll—”
“I don’t want them, Cynthia,” I say, forcing out the biggest lie of my life. I fight back tears. “But I will make them want me if you don’t do as I say.”
Cynthia’s nostrils flare. Summer slams her hands onto her hips as if she can’t believe my audacity.
“I want a signed document stating that my father is free to leave the Anderson ranch and that his debt has been wiped clean. I also want ten thousand dollars deposited into my bank account. Do that, and you will never see me again.”
“You bitch.”
I’m on the verge of crying, but I can’t. I need to know where I stand, and as a nobody, I have no ground to stand on. I must play this game.
“Fine.”
“Good. Draft the letter on your phone, sign it electronically, and email it to me. Then deposit the funds into my account.”
I stand there trembling as Cynthia follows my instructions. Once she’s done, I ask to use her phone. I check my emails for the letter and my bank account for the money.
“Thank you,” I say, but my voice catches, for a moment. “I’ll go pack my things.”
“Make sure they can’t find you, or they might kill you when I tell them how you’ve deceived them.”
“Is that so?” Sinclair asks, with a lazy lilt to his voice.
I wasn’t sure but I felt their presence way before I saw them entering the lounge, as handsome, as deadly as ever.
Henry called them, this I know. But how much did they hear?
If I beg for mercy, will they spare me?