Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
I touched my shortened hair, remembering seven pairs of hands helping me cut away his control. Somewhere out there, seven hearts beat with mine, waiting to tear this place apart if anything went wrong. My protectors. My future. If I could just pull this off.
The compact mirror felt heavy in my pocket—their lifeline to me, their way of keeping me safe even here. Twenty-four hours. I just had to survive twenty-four hours.
He thought he was getting back his perfect doll.
He had no idea what was coming.
26
PEARL
The crystal clinked against my teeth as I forced myself to take another sip of water.
Across the formal dining table, Vittorio watched every movement with that predatory focus I remembered too well. Everything felt wrong: the heavy silverware, the stuffiness of the room, the way the candlelight caught in his eyes.
"You've barely touched your food, dear one." His voice carried that dangerous edge of concern. "Are you still feeling unwell?"
I managed a weak smile, pushing the salmon around my plate. "Just tired, I think. Everything's been so..." I let my voice trail off, projecting the perfect mix of exhaustion and submission.
"Of course." His fingers drummed once against the tablecloth, a tell I'd learned meant he was planning something. "Rest will help. And soon everything will be back to normal."
Normal. Like anything about this place had ever been normal. I fought down another wave of nausea, focusing on categorizing the changes I'd noticed since arriving. New security cameras in the hallways. Different guards with harder eyes. The way conversations shifted to careful silence when I passed, leaving half-formed words hanging in the air like smoke.
"I have some exciting news." Vittorio dabbed his lips with his napkin, every movement precise. "Alessandro will be joining us for dinner tomorrow evening. He's quite eager to discuss your future."
Ice slid down my spine. Too soon. We needed more time.
The elevator chimed, and Alessandro's cultured voice drifted from the foyer. My heart stuttered—he wasn't supposed to be here tonight. Not yet.
"Vittorio?" His footsteps drew closer, that familiar cologne preceding him. "Ah, and our Pearl has finally found her way back to us. How... fortunate."
I forced myself to look up, to meet those cold eyes as he entered. Everything about him was perfectly polished—tailored suit, manicured hands, that practiced smile that never quite reached his eyes. But something was different tonight. A crack in his usual composure, like a predator who'd caught the scent of blood.
"I hope I'm not interrupting." He moved closer, circling my chair. "I was just reviewing some paperwork with the contractors. The new clinic expansion is proceeding beautifully."
"Alessandro." Vittorio's voice held a warning. "Perhaps business can wait until tomorrow's dinner."
"Of course." His hand settled on my shoulder, heavy and possessive. "Though I must say, seeing our Pearl looking so... different... makes me even more certain about our rehabilitation programs."
My stomach rolled violently. I gripped my water glass to hide my trembling fingers.
"Proper wives require proper guidance," he continued, his thumb brushing my shortened hair. "Structure. Discipline. The right therapeutic approach."
"I should lie down." I pushed back from the table, needing to escape his touch. "If you'll excuse me?"
Vittorio's nod held resignation, like I was proving some point about my weakness. "Rest, dear one. We have much to discuss tomorrow."
I barely made it to my bathroom before getting sick again. The marble was cold against my forehead as I tried to breathe through the dizziness. Just stress, I told myself. Just fear and memories and everything catching up.
But as I splashed water on my face, other possibilities tried to surface. The nausea. The exhaustion. The way certain smells suddenly turned my stomach...
No. I couldn't think about that. Not here. Not now.
I pulled out the compact mirror with shaking hands, needing to check in before the nausea overwhelmed me again. The tiny screen lit up as I entered the code Nico had shown me.
A arrived early. Major security changes. Not waiting for investor meeting.
The response was immediate: Stay calm. Window opens at tomorrow's dinner. Be ready.
I deleted the messages, watching the screen fade to black. Twenty-four hours. I just had to hold on for twenty-four hours.
Sleep refused to come that night. I lay in my old bed, one hand pressed to my churning stomach, trying to focus on the plan instead of the growing certainty I couldn't keep ignoring. The way Alessandro had looked at me as though he already knew something I was barely letting myself consider.
A sound in the hallway made me freeze. Voices, just on the edge of hearing:
"...special preparations for the new wing..."
"...modified security protocols once she's transferred..."
"...need her completely isolated before the procedure..."
My heart pounded as their footsteps faded. In the quiet, my hand drifted to my stomach, a gesture that was becoming unconscious, protective. The slight curve there held answers I wasn't ready to face. Not yet. Not here.