Page 38 of Deliria

There’s no guarantee that my secrets will remain safe within these walls.

I need a better hiding spot, one that’s less conspicuous, less likely to be discovered by prying eyes. And also, one I can more easily access.

I tuck the book into the crook of my arm, concealing it as best I can and then I creep back, out into the corridor and to my room.

There’s a thick wool rug that covers a lot of the floor, but beneath it is solid wood.

I search for a loose board, focusing beneath my bed, where it’ll be harder to notice. Within seconds I find a small, almost imperceptible gap between two of the floorboards.

Using my nails, I manage to pry the board up just enough to slip the book inside before I put everything back, smoothing out any signs of disturbance with my hands.

It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.

But my heart still skips, it leaps as if this one act of defiance might set me free.

I must be patient, I must be smart, I tell myself and above all, I must do whatever is necessary to survive.

Scarlett

The silken fabric of the gown slides over my skin.

It’s a beautiful dress, to be sure, with delicate beadwork that sparkles under the soft lights of my dressing room, but it feels wrong against my body. Too revealing. Too provocative for a simple family dinner, or at least, what I thought was going to be a simple family dinner.

Alex stands behind me, his reflection in the mirror a mix of pride and possession as he watches me dress, his hands guiding my own as he adjusts the straps, ensuring it fits just right.

Too tight. Too constricting.

His fingers linger on the bare skin of my back, tracing the line of my spine, and a shiver runs through me at his touch. It’s not a shiver of pleasure, but one of apprehension, of dread. Because in this moment, I realize just how much control he has over me, over my body, over every aspect of my life.

I always knew he was controlling, even when we first met and started dating, but back then I had my freedom, my health, my family too. I had ways of sidestepping his less desirable parts.

Now I have nothing. No escape routes. No exits. No way to manage.

How the fuck did I end up trapped like this? What went wrong?

“You look stunning, Scarlett,” he murmurs, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the nape of my neck. The gesture is intimate, and under different circumstances, I might have found comfort in it. But now? Now it feels like the prelude to a storm I’ve got little strength to stand against.

I nod, mute, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and suspicion. I don’t know what game he’s playing at, but I know better than to question him openly. I must be careful, cunning, even as every instinct screams at me to run, to put as much distance between myself and this cursed house as possible.

With a deep, steadying breath, I slip my feet into the pair of high heels waiting for me by the vanity, their sharp points like weapons against the plush carpet. Once I found joy in such frivolities as fancy dresses and parties, but I’m no longer that woman. No, something destroyed that part of me. I just need to discover what it was.

“Come,” Alex says, extending his hand toward me. “Dinner awaits.”

I take his hand, allowing him to lead me from the sanctuary of my room and into the grandeur of the Forster estate.

When we get to the dining room, he seems to relax a little. As if he expected me to become some screaming banshee. A long mahogany table is set with the finest China and crystal, a silent testament to the wealth and power of the family I’ve married into.

Vincent and Irene are already seated at the far end of the table, their postures stiff and formal. Rafe stands by the window, his dark gaze fixed firmly on the tumultuous sea outside, as if he’s seeking something—anything—that might offer him an escape from the evening’s proceedings.

Christ, it feels like an omen. My heart seems to pick up, beating almost erratically.

I can’t get out.

I can’t do anything but play along.

A staff of uniformed maids and butlers lurk in the shadows, ready to spring into action at the slightest signal. Their presence is as much a part of this performance as the silverware that gleams beneath the chandeliers, their silence a stark reminder of the hierarchy that dictates life within these walls.

As we enter, all eyes turn to us, and there’s a moment where everything seems to freeze.

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