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“Hi sweetheart.” Mrs. Ivory’s face lit up as soon as I walked back in. A light aroma of chocolate chip cookies radiated through the foyer. “I baked some of my special cookies for you. I know it’s been a bit of a challenge settling in. Come on.” She looped her arm with mine and led me to the kitchen.
“Did you know I came from nothing, Demi?” Mrs. Ivory crooned as she plated the fresh cookies from a baking sheet.
“I’m sorry?” I was taken aback by such a straight-forward, yet unintentional, thought.
“You heard me, dear. Just like you, I came from nothing. That’s why Ian and I hire women whose life has not been so kind. Ian may seem a bit crass to you, but in reality, he saved me. I was his favorite girl.” She smiled absentmindedly.
His favorite girl? Wasn’t Bradley rambling about that earlier?
“What do you mean, you were his favorite girl?” I took a cookie off the plate, but Mrs. Ivory swatted my hand. “Ouch!”
“Demi, they are hot. Wait a moment, dear,” she said with a slight smile. The oven behind her began to beep, and she swiftly turned. Tripping over one of the island stools, she took a tumble and fell to the ground. Leaping out of my chair, I hurried to her, but my shoes skid across the tile. Mrs. Ivory was on the floor, bald, except for small amounts of dark stubble across her scalp. Shrieking, she crawled on all fours until she reached the blonde wig that had fallen.
“Mrs. Ivory!” Mortified for her, I bent to help her as she hurriedly pulled the wig back on.
Her skin was flushed red, her hair stuck out in ten different directions, and her breathing was erratic. She used my arms to steady herself. “Well, that was humiliating,” she murmured under her breath with one hand across her heart.
“Are you alright, Mrs. Ivory?” Suddenly, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was sick. Was she losing her hair due to an underlying medical condition or treatment?
“I’m not ill, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s bloody alopecia—chronic hair loss. I’m not dying, Demi; so, you can stop looking at me like I am,” she snapped, clearly agitated.
“It’s time for you to go back to your room to bathe and sleep. I expect a full day of work from you tomorrow. Dr. Ivory will not be pleased if he sees that the Ossis wing isn’t properly cleaned by tomorrow evening. Bradley will take you into the rooms as well. Go on now.” She waved her hand at me.
My stomach rumbled, and I assumed asking for a cookie wouldn’t be the most appropriate thing to do. I wondered about dinner, but Mrs. Ivory left the kitchen before I could even ask.
“Shit,” I whispered, realizing I didn’t even know my way back to my room.
“Let’s go.” Bradley’s voice echoed behind me, and I couldn’t believe the amount of relief I felt with his presence.
“You have to stop, Demi.” He grabbed my arm and guided me out into the hallway. He was walking so quickly I was having to break into a light jog to keep up with him.
“Bradley, let go of my arm.” My teeth grinded against each other as I slapped his hand off me. Pushing me against the wall, he planted his hands on opposite sides of my body, growing so close I could feel his warm breath against my face.
“Demi, Dr. Ivory wants to get rid of you. But the thing is, he doesn’t mean to fire you.” His eyes widened and the vein in the side of his head was protruding out.
“If you run, they’ll find you and they’ll kill you. You have to prove to them that you are trustworthy. Demi, this is not a joke,” Bradley hissed and swiftly pulled away while glancing at the ceiling.
I knew it. I knew this wasn’t in my head. These people were vile.
“Bradley—”
“Demi, just clean and keep your mouth shut. You’re on his radar, and it’s not a good thing to be on it.”
Nodding, I swallowed the lingering saliva to coat the dryness of my throat. I was terrified. I didn’t want to die, but I was trapped here. I was nineteen and had never even lived my life.
Like an unsuspecting animal, I fell into the trap of a predator. The first time not by choice, but the second time, I walked right into it.
Pushing off the wall, I followed behind Bradley, trying to keep my tears back but they kept falling down my face. It was exhausting when your entire life was a series of unfortunate events.
Once in front of my new room, I looked up at Bradley. The first time I saw him I thought he looked like some kind of character from a sci-fi movie—perfectly coiffed blonde hair that was meticulously held in place with way too much gel, a serious scowl, and mossy green eyes that felt hostile like some kind of reptile. But now, as he grew closer to me and brushed his thumb against my cheek to wipe away the lingering tear, I wasn’t so sure.
“Don’t cry, Demi. It’ll be okay. We’ll get out. But you have to trust me.” He pinched his lips to the side and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.
“I’m hungry,” I nervously whispered as my heart raced. I couldn’t believe I was feeling some kind of emotional connection to Bradley.
“Your dinner is in your room. Eat, bathe, and sleep. Tomorrow is your real, last first chance to survive.” The door opened behind me, and I walked backward into it. The door shut slowly while Bradley and I stared at one another.
Blowing out a breath of air, I thought about everything Bradley just said and everything Raina had told me. Everyone was telling me something different. But the one thing I knew with absolute certainty was I had to pretend to be content here. Bradley wanted to escape. He’d been here for a while, meaning if he thought he could simply walk through the front door unharmed, he would have.
