Page 65 of Beyond Question

And then he looks at me and I know my time for secrets is up when he motions toward the couch.

I shuffle toward the living room and settle on the opposite end of the couch from where Rylan is already curled up with a blanket over her legs and her hands curled around a cup of warm tea.

When no one says anything, I exhale loudly. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Start with who you were before you were Paige Matthews,” Cabot says, then adds, “Josephine.”

I close my eyes. No one has called me that in almost thirty years. Hearing my name is a mixture of returning home, to the safety of my mother’s arms, and an ice-cold splash of fear because that name died with that life.

And now, it’s been resurrected.

With a deep breath, I begin. “My name is Josephine, as you’ve already guessed, and before I came to New York, I lived in England. London, to be exact.”

I hear Rylan’s quick intake of air, then take a big gulp of wine and force myself to continue. “My family was very wealthy,” I admit, though I hate having to do so. “My father was a bastard of a man, a true monster. His greed knew no bounds, and even with all his wealth, he wanted more. It’s what drove him, that greed, made him the unscrupulous man that he was.” I close my eyes and keep them closed, as if doing so might protect me from the memories. “It was what drove my mother away when I was young, though I have my doubts that she just up and left.” I pause as my voice cracks. She would have never left me. Not willingly.

Cabot and Rylan remain quiet, though Cabot paces; I follow the sound of his footsteps around the room. Anger radiates off of him in waves. Palpable and impossible to ignore.

I want to be mad about that anger, indignant that it’s directed at me, resentful that I’m being forced to explain my past, to dig up these memories, but he’s right to be angry.

I put his fiancée—and possibly their baby—in danger.

With a deep, steadying breath, I continue. “A deal was made with another horrible man, one even more monstrous than my father. This man was a tyrant.” I pause. “He was also a duke.” I try to separate myself from the story, to tell it as though it’s someone else’s history, but with each word, the wound reopens, the pain fresh all over again.

Betrayal is a bitter taste on my tongue.

Fear, a physical chill in my bones.

“That man had power and money and anything he wanted, really, except for the one thing he couldn’t have.” I swallow hard and tears press against my eyes, so I take a moment to breathe deeply, desperately trying to keep my tears at bay.

“What was the deal?” Rylan whispers. “You said they made a deal.”

I lift my head and open my eyes to meet her gaze. “My father received a couple of warehouses, a lucrative—though far from legal—trade business, a thirteenth-century castle…”

She gasps and her hand flies to her mouth to cover the sound.

After a beat, Cabot says, “In exchange for…?”

I lift my gaze to meet his, jutting my chin. “His only daughter.”

Rylan gasps again. “You can’t do that. You can’ttradepeople.”

I snort, shaking my head. “I wish that were true.”

“Did he, like,makeyou marry that man?” Rylan asks, leaning forward.

If only it had been a simple, arranged marriage with a good man, a connection of two wealthy families. Something to spur business and create legacies.

But that would be someone else's story.

“He dropped me off on the duke’s doorstep.” I pause, because this part is too painful to speak aloud. Struggling through the terrors of my past, I try to summarize what happened to me as best I can, both for my own sake and Rylan’s. She’s too sweet, too innocent to know what I’ve been through. “I tried to run, but he caught me. The duke. And he took what he wanted. He always took what he wanted.”

After a moment, the horror of what remains unsaid sinks in and Rylan sniffles. I can’t look at her. Can’t see the pain in her eyes, the sympathy.

“I spent three months locked in his home. Three months while he treated me however he saw fit, taking whatever he wanted any time he pleased.” I breathe deeply. “Until one day, a woman on his staff… risked her life to save me.”

Shelosther life for that crime, but I can’t bring myself to tell Rylan that part either. As soon as I made it to the United States, Iscoured newspapers and visited libraries to find any information on my disappearance—and if it had even reached the news.

It hadn’t. That man was too proud to admit that he’d lost.

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