Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
REBECCA
Isla plays at my feet, rhythmically brushing the hair of one of her dolls.
Every day, new toys arrive for her to play with.
Next time I see Tobias, I must remember to mention it.
He’s spoiling her, and while I understand his reasoning, she doesn’t need this many toys.
I don’t want her to grow up thinking the world will fall at her feet and she won’t have to work hard to achieve things in life.
In the two days since I agreed to marry Tobias, I’ve been back and forth as to whether it’s the right decision.
The pro list far outweighs the cons by some distance, but it’s…
well, it’s a lot. Deep in my soul, I know marrying Tobias is the right thing to do for me and for Isla.
He’s a good man, and his no touching rule, while curious, is the perfect solution for me.
I’m doing the right thing—I am. It’s an adjustment, that’s all. I set the rules for our marriage, but I didn’t set them on parenting Isla. I’ll talk to him about it. It’s inevitable we’re going to trip over bumps in the road as we navigate this new reality.
My phone pings, and my heart sinks at the banner across the screen.
Call me stupid, but I set an alert for either my name or Isla’s appearing online.
Knowledge is power, and as painful as it is to read the lies Felicity is spreading about me, it’s better that I’m aware of what’s going on.
It won’t help to bury my head in the sand.
I click on the banner.
The truth behind the La Salle tragedy: A story of one woman’s survival.
My heart leaps into my throat. That… that sounds positive, in my favor. I tuck my legs beneath me and dive into the article.
In the three weeks since the shocking events at exclusive private members’ club, The Lair, which left MP Preston La Salle’s eldest son Marcus dead and club owner Tobias De Vil recovering from a gunshot wound, a different narrative is emerging about the young widow at the center of it all.
Rebecca La Salle, 23, has been the subject of intense media scrutiny since that fateful Friday night.
Initial reports painted her as a mentally unstable opportunist who coerced a wealthy man into marriage.
However, sources close to the investigation tell a dramatically different story—one of abuse, control, and a young mother’s desperate attempts to protect her daughter.
“The narrative that Rebecca is mentally unfit to parent her child and that she forced her husband into attending The Lair that fateful night is not only false but dangerous,” says our source, who spoke on condition of anonymity.
“Marcus La Salle was an abusive man who had complete control over his wife, financially, emotionally, and physically. She was a victim long before that night.”
What transpired inside the club has been the subject of much speculation, but those familiar with the incident paint a disturbing picture.
Marcus La Salle was allegedly violating his wife in clear contravention of The Lair’s strict consent policies, which owner Tobias De Vil has built his reputation on enforcing.
In the aftermath, Rebecca La Salle has found herself fighting not only public vilification, but also a custody battle.
Marcus’s parents, Felicity and Preston La Salle, have launched legal proceedings to gain custody of their four-year-old granddaughter, Isla, citing Rebecca’s alleged mental instability and incompetence as a mother.
Legal experts familiar with the case describe the La Salles claims as “baseless” and “potentially libelous.”
In a surprise twist, Rebecca and her young daughter have found sanctuary in the wake of the tragedy at Oakleigh, the ancestral home of the De Vil family.
“Tobias and Rebecca have formed a bond through shared trauma,” our source reveals. “There’s a mutual understanding and respect between them. They’re two people who survived something horrific together.”
When reached for comment, a spokesperson for the De Vils issued the following statement: “The De Vil family stands firmly behind Mrs. La Salle and her daughter. We have witnessed firsthand the strength and courage of this young woman, and we will not stand idly by while her character is assassinated by those seeking to rewrite a tragedy to suit their own ends. The La Salles’ attempt to gain custody of Isla through a campaign of lies is unconscionable, and we will use every resource at our disposal to expose the truth. ”
As the investigation continues, and custody proceedings loom, one thing becomes increasingly clear: Rebecca La Salle is not the villain some corners of the media have portrayed her to be.
She’s a survivor, a mother fighting for her child, and a woman who has already suffered immeasurably at the hands of her deceased husband.
The La Salle family declined to comment for this article.
The piece ends with the phone number for the national domestic abuse helpline. I blink once, twice, a third time. What the hell just happened?
“Isla, let’s go and find Tobias.” I slide my phone into my pocket and hold out my hand for her to take. It’s after nine, so he’ll probably be at work.
As we approach Tobias’s office, Bea rises from her chair, her smile warm and friendly.
“Morning, Rebecca, Isla.” From somewhere, she produces a lollypop and hands it to Isla, who takes it and immediately shoves it in her mouth.
“Say thank you to Bea.”
Isla sticks up her thumb. Bea smiles. “You’re welcome, darling.”
“Is he available?”
“He has a nine-thirty, but he’s free until then. Go on in. I’ll watch Isla if you like.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to refuse, my go-to reflex. Instead, I nod. “Thanks. That’d be great.” I slide my hand from Isla’s. “Stay here with Bea, pumpkin. I won’t be long.”
I tap on Tobias’s door, then enter. He looks up and grins, beckoning to me. “Morning.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you. Bea said you were free until nine-thirty.”
“Of course not.” He closes the lid on his laptop and waves at the chair on the other side of his desk. “Take a seat. Everything okay? Isla all right?”
“She’s great. I left her with Bea. On the subject of Isla… “ I bite my lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but can you stop buying her so many toys? She’s got more than enough.”
“Ah.” He leans back in his chair, a grimace crinkling the skin around his eyes. “I’m spoiling her, aren’t I?”
“A little bit.”
“Message received, loud and clear. I’ll keep the gift giving to birthdays and Christmas from now on.”
“I appreciate that.” I lift my phone from my pocket and open it to the article. “Is this your doing?” I pass him my phone.
He takes it and scans the screen for a few seconds, then hands my phone back to me. “We have a good PR team. It also happens to be the truth.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I said we’d take care of it. This is just the beginning. To prepare you, I expect the La Salles will try to counter. They won’t succeed. Once we announce the wedding, they’ll drop the custody case.”
I want to believe him. “You seem awfully sure.”
“That’s because I am.”
“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” I whisper.
“You already have,” he replies cryptically. Rising from his chair, he comes around to my side of the desk. “Take a walk with me.”
“But you have a meeting.”
“I’ll ask Bea to reschedule.”
After collecting Isla, the three of us head downstairs and emerge into the fresh air.
The weather is crisp and chilly, but there’s a dazzling blue sky and barely a breeze.
Isla skips ahead, happy, as my mother used to say, as a pig in muck.
She’s blossoming here. We both are. My soul, so tired and broken from years of abuse, is healing, one act of kindness at a time.
Tomorrow, Isla has her first appointment with a therapist who specializes in child trauma, and the day after, it’s my turn.
I’m nervous, but, as much as I hate to admit, it’s for the best.
We walk in silence for a while, though it isn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It never is with Tobias. Being with him is calming, a soothing balm on a burn I didn’t realize had seared through to the bone.
As we crest the top of a hill, a middle-aged woman approaches us. The protector in me immediately calls to Isla, who is closer to the woman than we are.
“It’s okay,” Tobias says. “It’s my aunt Alice.” He raises a hand in greeting. Isla, spotting the stranger, comes racing to my side.
“Tobias.” Alice breaks into a smile, slides her gaze to me, then back to Tobias, one eyebrow lifting.
“How are you, Alice? This is Rebecca, my fiancée, and her daughter Isla.”
The shock at hearing him describe me as such, even if accurate, must register on my face. Alice chuckles.
“Takes a little getting used to, I bet. Lovely to meet you, my dear. When is the announcement being made?”
“Soon,” Tobias says.
Alice bends down to Isla’s level. “Hello, beautiful,” she says. “I love your hat.”
Isla burrows closer to me. “She’s shy,” I explain. “She’ll come around when she gets to know you better.”
“I live on the other side of the hill.” Alice gestures behind her. “If you’re out this way, do pop in for tea and some cake.”
“I’d like that.”
“Me, too. Well, I must get going. Charles is expecting me.”
“What does Dad want?” Tobias asks.
“I don’t know. I’m hoping it’s about George. I want to see him.”
Who’s George? I haven’t heard that name mentioned since I arrived at Oakleigh.
“Why the fu—why would you want to do that?”
I frown at the sharpness in Tobias’s tone and the way he glowers in a way I’ve never seen before. Alice winces.
“He’s still my husband, Tobias. We’ve been married for a long time. Whatever he’s done doesn’t negate that.”
His jaw tightens, and his eyes marginally narrow. “If you say so. We won’t keep you, Alice.” He walks on, and I follow, a hundred questions whirring through my mind. If this was a real relationship, I’d voice them. As it isn’t, I stay quiet. If Tobias wants to tell me, he will.