“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Jack looks at me like I’m the dumbest person alive. “There’s not enough to use here, so”—he shrugs—“it will do. But it’s not a great use of resources.”
“Jack—”
“She was told to push you, Cooper. And she did her best. I’m not faulting Cadee. But you certainly didn’t rise. You did a much better job that one night when you spanked her over your knee.”
I knew. I knew there were cameras. We all knew. Everything we’ve done since we walked out of rush last summer has been recorded. We knew this.
But realizing that my brother has been watching me fuck my girlfriend—no. Not just watching. He’s critiquing—well, that pisses me off.
My eyes slide over to his with rage.
I take note of the yellow-green remnants of bruising he has from the last time I beat him down and then suck in a deep, deep breath to calm myself.
I knew he would get back at me. I knew this. And I beat the fuck out of him anyway.
So this is all my fault.
I sit.
And I listen.
As we go through it.
Together.
When I finally make it out to the Glass House, I find Victor inside eating a sandwich. He brushes the crumbs off his fingers, finishes chewing, and then says, “Let’s get this show on the road. I have a million other things to do tonight.”
Then he winks at me.
And for the first time since I woke up, I feel in charge again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - CADEE
After our mani-pedis, Leela drops me off at campus. She wishes me good luck during finals week and then says she probably won’t see me again until Christmas.
When I get home, Cooper isn’t there. So I just climb into bed and watch TV.
I’m just about to give up and go to sleep when I hear the faint sound of the elevator ding. A few moments later, he enters my room.
I wait for it. Because I deserve whatever he has to say about last night.
But he doesn’t say anything.
Just walks over to the bed, grabs me by my hair, pulls me down onto the ground, takes out his cock, and shoves it down my throat.
I am slapped. I am pulled around the floor. I am fucked from behind. He comes on my face and my tits. He chokes me twice. The second time I pass out.
When I wake up, I’m in the shower. The water is freezing cold. I’m naked and alone.
And when I look in the mirror, I see that my neck is bruised. And then I see the message.
I have risen is written in red lipstick.
I dress and then go over to his room. I find a note. It says, At the end of the week you will move home. Servants’ quarters, southeast wing of Valcourt Mansion. You wanna play this fucking game, Cadee? Fine. We’re gonna play.
I look in his closet and find all his clothes gone.
He’s moved out.
I sit in my room all Sunday just watching the workers string up Christmas lights. They go all out. Even on my floor. And by nightfall this place is a thing out of a fantasy.
I stand out in the middle of the glass bridge and think about homecoming. How the lights in the central garden were magical. How happy we were. How beautiful Isabella and I looked and how handsome Cooper was in that military-ish suit he was wearing.
I could stare at those pictures down on the main level for hours.
And that night, after everyone has gone home and the outside of the building is lit up like a winter dream, I lie on my bed with my head at the foot and just stare up at the picture of Cooper and me fucking on the Valcourt throne.
I haven’t seen Isabella in weeks now. In fact, I haven’t really seen anyone but Leela.
Are we still playing a game?
Or is this my new reality?
Am I a sex slave?
Or am I a secret weapon to take down a whole community of rich, sick fucks?
Were my parents really legacies? Or were they just slaves?
Did my mother belong to someone once? Was she an offering?
If the bloodline thing is true—then that answer is yes.
And if I get pregnant, my girls will be slaves too.
I wonder if there are any boy slaves?
Is that where Victor comes from?
I leave the building. I see the bodyguard who follows me into the woods. I know they’re there. Just like they were for Mona. But I don’t care.
I walk all the way over to the other side of campus. Into the Prep side. Things are very quiet. All the buildings are dark and the woods are darker.
But I know this path. I don’t need light to find my way to the little gardener’s cottage. And anyway, Victor is still up. His lights are on.
He looks up when I knock. I can see him through the large window near the door.
I never thought much about how much glass was used to make this building. It reminded me of a greenhouse. I maybe thought it was a greenhouse when I was a kid.
But it’s not.
It’s just… transparent.
Victor opens the door. “Cadee. What are you doing here?”
“Can I ask you something?”
He looks around nervously. “I think you should go home.”
“It’s an easy question, I promise. All I want to know is—where do your parents live?”
“What?”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Why?”
“I just need to know.”
“On the other side of the lake. Like everyone else.”
“You have a mansion over there?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“You’re not just lying to me?”
He cocks his head. “Why would I lie about that?”
“Can you show it to me?”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
He sighs. “I guess. But is this a good idea?”
“I just need to know who you are.”
He grabs his coat off a hook on the wall, slips it on, and jingles his car keys in the pocket. “Fine. Let’s go then. My parents are gonna be pissed when I wake them up to introduce you, but fuck it.”
If he’s trying to make me feel bad about that so I’ll say forget it, it doesn’t work.
We walk to his car in the student parking lot near the stadium, then take the long way round to get to the other side of the lake.
His family lives far, far away from the school.
But he wasn’t lying. He does have a very nice house in the woods. Nothing like Valcourt Mansion, but it’s still a mansion by anyone’s standards. He shuts the engine off in the driveway and says, “I’m not gonna wake up my parents, but I’ll show the family photo album.”
I nod, and we go inside. He has a key. He knows the alarm number. He leads me to a large room, walks right over to a built-in bookshelf, and pulls out a photo album.
I flip through it. He’s in there. He has a past, and a family, and he grew up in this house.
I get up and put the photo album back where he got it. Then I nod.
We leave, but instead of going to the car, he tugs on my coat and leads me into the woods. Then he says, “What the fuck is this about?” while staring at the driveway.
I sigh. Look past him. Not at anything specific. “Who am I?”
“What do you mean?”