Page 72 of Broken Truths

From inside, I hear James ask, “Sir, is everything all right?”

“No,” Oliver exclaims. “No, everything is definitely not all right.”

26

Eden

Sun streams in through a window, waking me from the deepest sleep. I turn, pulling the soft pillow closer, when reality hits me.

My eyes fly open, the sting of the sun’s rays making me close them again. I sit up, body stiff and aching. Half-lidded, I peer around the room. I’m not at Oliver’s.

Gun. Stranger. Car accident.

Shit.

The soft scent of tropical flowers wafts from an unknown source. It sort of reminds me of the house I grew up in. Mom wanted everything to smell like fresh linen. Admittedly, that aroma is far superior to this one.

There are two huge windows trimmed in fancy molding behind the bed, a crystal chandelier hangs from the center of the room, and two solid wood doors guard the opposite wall. One is cracked open, and I can see a sliver of a vanity.

Everything about this place is vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite figure out why.

I stand from the bed, noticing I’m not firing on all cylinders, and there’s a pain that starts in my shoulder and crosses diagonally down my body.

Peeking outside, I spy a large yard, trimmed landscaping, and a pool. I’m one hundred percent certain I know where I am since that’s the pool Dee almost drowned in when she was a kid. I can remember it clearly in my mind.

I’m at the Forbeses.

What the fuck?

I spin, taking in the room again. Everything is decorated in the trendiest fashion that only feels like a hologram for what’s really going on here. I search the room and the bathroom for something useful—a cell phone to call the guys, a weapon, something. Instead, all I find is that I’m dressed in a fashionable sweater dress with a bow around the waist.

Cuts that I must have received during the accident are tended to with Band-Aids. No blood. No dirt. It’s as if I’ve been given a bath.

A knock comes on the door, and I have a fleeting thought to hide, but that’s preposterous. They know I’m in here. I haven’t jumped from the third floor to safety, though that could be an option, if needed.

Two out of four. If he kills me, Mom’s the only one left.

The knock comes again, and I saunter toward the door, holding my hands behind my back as I lift my chin. “What is it?”

“Miss, my name is Sally. You might remember me? I was sent to see if you needed anything.”

As always, I can spot a servant’s tone with ease. Disinterest. Like James, I swear Leon could be torturing someone in front of her and she’d ask if he needed a refreshing beverage. “Come in,” I call to her.

The door opens, and she gives me a pleasant smile. Her presence actually calms my nerves a little. We’re about the same age. Clearly, she would want to help another woman who was in distress, no matter what her employer wanted her to do. “Sally, do you know why I’m being kept here?”

Her nose scrunches up. “I don’t know what you mean, miss.”

“I was brought here at gunpoint before I drove a car straight into a tree in an attempt to get away.” I point at the cuts on my face, even though they’re less intimidating than they should be since someone has already cleaned me up.

“Miss Eden,” she says, smile never wavering, “you were found hurt by the side of the road. I don’t know the particulars, but you were brought here so you could get better. Now, there’s breakfast downstairs if you’re hungry.”

I narrow my gaze at her. She doesn’t have any idea why I’m here. Or what the Forbes family is capable of.

“Maybe you hit your head too hard? Do you want to lie back down? I can alert Mr. Forbes.”

“No,” I tell her. “I’d actually like to leave. Can you give me a phone so I can call someone to pick me up?”

She gives me a wary glance. “Maybe you should eat something first?”

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