Page 65 of Goldrage
The bitter irony of a man mourning the brother who’d tortured women makes my stomach turn. But beneath the disgust, I recognize a troubling truth: Gregory’s death doesn’t change anything. I’m still trapped in this estate, still pregnant with a fake baby, still surrounded by monsters who will happily take Gregory’s place. There are a dozen Gregory’s in the Consortium. More.
“Eleanora,” I say suddenly. “Just… Don’t eliminate anyone else on the list without talking to me first, okay?”
“Why? I thought you’d be happy.”
“It’s complicated. I mean, thank you for… taking care ofGregory. But I need to think about this more. About all of it. Promise me you’ll wait?”
There’s disappointment in Eleanora’s voice when she responds. “If that’s what you want. Though I have to say, I don’t understand. These people destroyed your mother. They destroyed your family. They all deserve this. Each one.”
I remain silent. Maybe they do deserve it, but killing them isn’t bringing my mother back. It’s not healing anything. It’s just… it’s just creating more death. It’s making me more like them.
And Olivia is on that list. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her because of me. I don’t know her well, but my gut is saying she doesn’t deserve to be slaughtered.
An uncomfortable silence stretches between us. Finally, Eleanora breaks it with an attempt at lightness.
“How are you? I mean, really.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, hating how easily deception comes to me now. “Everything’s fine.”
“That’s good,” Eleanora responds, but there’s something in her tone that suggests she knows I’m not telling the whole truth. “And Adrian?”
“He’s… healing.” I think of the night we stole moments together and my heart flips. But why don’t I feel like telling Eleanora?
Another pause, this one even more awkward than the last. We used to talk for hours, sharing every detail of our lives, every thought and feeling. Now we’re like strangers reading from scripts, each avoiding the subjects that matter most. I trust Eleanora, but also feel distant.
“How are you?” I ask back.
“Um, yeah. Doing okay.” More silence.
“I should go,” Eleanora finally says. “I have… some things I need to do.”
More secrets, probably.
“Of course,” I say, though my heart aches at the distance I hear in my friend’s voice. “Take care of yourself. And thank you for everything you’re doing to help.”
“Just stay safe.”
The line goes dead, leaving me staring at the small black phone in my hand. The conversation felt artificial, nothing like the easy intimacy we’d once shared. Secrets have built walls between us, and I’m not sure how to tear them down.
It’s this life. These years of pain and trauma.
Even after I escape, will I ever truly be a carefree, open woman?
After several minutes of sitting in the bathroom feeling sorry for myself, I force myself to focus. The phone needs to be hidden somewhere the guards won’t think to look. After examining several options, I finally decide to balance it on a pipe on the underside of the sink where the plumbing creates camouflage.
As I leave the bathroom and sit on my bed, my mind keeps returning to Gregory Whitman’s death. I should feel victorious and satisfied that another name has been crossed off my list. Instead, I feel hollow, like I’ve been chasing shadows while the real monsters remain untouchable.
I stare out my bedroom window at the garden whereI’d walked with Lorenzo just hours earlier, wondering if revenge has been consuming my soul while I told myself I was honoring my mother’s memory. I think it’s time to find a different path. One that leads to healing rather than more death.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DANTE
The dinner table stretches between us like a battlefield where no one dares make the first move. Julian’s mandate brings us together nightly—him, Mother, Bianca, Aurelia, and me—yet we might as well be strangers. My fork scrapes against porcelain and I winch.
“Oh, did I mention I joined an online book club?” Bianca says. She’s usually the only one talking like this. “We’re reading this book about a duke who falls for his stable girl.”
No one responds. Julian stares at his plate, barely eating. Lady Harrow pushes food around without focus. And Aurelia?—
