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Was this the real reason for the animosity between mine and Violet’s fathers? But they must have made up at some point, because they were business partners long after Hugo and Brynne got married.
Unless Hugo didn’t know my father was Mr. Romantic.
Diary of Brynne Davenport—April 3rd, 1989
I've been spending more and more time with Mr. Romantic lately. Mr. Admirer is still eagerly pursuing me, but I feel myself pulled more and more toward the other man. I want him. I need him. When he touches me, my body comes alive. There's something in the way he looks at me... Like I'm his most prized possession. Like I belong to him already.
I've been holding back, not letting him have more than a kiss or a feel when he takes me home. But I think I'm ready to let him have so much more. I've been ready for a long time now. I haven't slept with a man before, but it's going to happen tonight. And I can't wait.
I turned the page eagerly. There was only one entry left, and my eyes were glued to the page as I kept on reading, sickness rising in my stomach as the words danced on the page in front of me.
Diary of Brynne Davenport—April 4th, 1989
Last night was the worst night of my life.
I had spent so long anticipating it, working up my courage to spend the night with Mr. Romantic. Now I know I have been mistaken. I never should have trusted him. I should have known how things would end. I'm no longer the foolish girl that walked into Mr. Romantic's bedroom and naively admired his expensive artwork, the furniture that must've cost a fortune, and the view that was worth millions in itself.
Mr. Romantic is not a nice man.
I went to his place with every intention of letting him have my virginity.
I dressed up pretty, I sprayed myself with perfume, my makeup and hair were perfect. Mr. Romantic complimented me on my appearance throughout dinner, telling me how beautiful and desirable I was. I felt on top of the world. I felt beautiful, and special.
That ended the moment he took me to his penthouse apartment after dinner.
When Mr. Romantic closed the front door behind us, he locked it. He turned to face me, and this time, his eyes were burning with dark intent, and not the sweet, gentle feelings I'd thought we shared for one another. That all went out the window when we were alone.
I felt chills go down my spine as I read Brynne's cryptic words. I kept reading, unable to tear my eyes off the page. I needed to get to the bottom of this.
Yesterday, Mr. Romantic stole my virginity. There was no gentleness. No sweetness. He didn’t even ask if I wanted it. After I saw the darkness in his eyes, I tried to leave, but he wouldn’t let me. His touch was punishing and cruel. He didn’t care if he hurt me. I felt like a toy, being hurt for his amusement.
Until I gave in. Until I begged for it.
I still wanted him. His darkness drew me in like an addiction. He made me do things I’ve never imagined. But the more I enjoyed it, the more he hurt me. He took my innocence, cradled it in the palm of his hand, and crushed the last shred of dignity I had left under his strong fingers.
He took everything from me that he wanted. He left bruises and marks all over my body. I couldn’t hide them all.
Worst of all, is that after he was done, and I lay hurting in his bed, I still found comfort in his arms.
I felt like I belonged there, and I could find a way to enjoy his cruelty, no matter how depraved it was.
Barely an hour after he took my innocence, another girl showed up, and I found out that I wasn’t the only one who believed he was Mr. Romantic.
I meant nothing to him. All he wanted was my innocence, and after he took it, he was done with me.
Mr. Romantic, my ass. His name is Dominic Windsor, and he is a monster.
Softly, I closed the cover of the notebook. I was glued to my seat, thoughts spinning, as I pieced everything together.
My father had hurt Violet's mother. And now, decades later, I was hurting the girl that could have been my half-sister if things had gone differently. Thankfully, those timelines didn’t add up.
I sank into my chair and reached for my drink. I always knew my father was an evil man, and I was no different, but what he did to Violet’s mother still bothered me. He drew her in with the prospect of love, marriage, and a future, then threw her away as soon as he got what he wanted.
Even back then, he couldn’t be loyal to one woman.
I flipped through the stack of journals and it seemed that I had gotten to the end of the last one. Whatever happened to Brynne after her night with my father, she either didn’t write about it, or it didn’t make it into the box.
A quick internet search on my phone revealed the date of Brynne's wedding with Hugo. It was less than a month after she slept with my father, according to her diary. This meant Hugo Cabot was definitely the other man Brynne had written about in her diaries. He was Mr. Admirer.
