“He can’t do this!” I crumple the letter in my palm, rage lighting my veins and casting my vision in a sheen of red. “He can’t!”
“I’m afraid he has.” Enzo shakes his head sadly.
“This is bullshit! How is it that she's sounfit,yet Blasko parades her around on that stage every weekend? This is sofucked!”
“I’m not going to deny that.” He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. “But it’s what the court has decided is okay.”
“Fuck that! I’m not letting her spend another moment with that piece of filth!”
“If you want to go right back to prison, be my guest.” Enzo’s mouth sets in a somber expression. “But I will tell you this… You can’t help her from a jail cell.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Does she haveanyonewho’s witnessed the abuse over the years? A long-lost cousin, an old friend?”
I think for a moment, remembering the conversation Eloise and I had about how isolated she is. There’s really no one. No one except me, Dave, and her guard.
Her guard…
Though he was cold and surly, he didn’t strike me as cruel. In fact, he’s helped us along the way. He’s likely seen Dave’s mistreatment, and there’s a chance he’d be willing to attest to the abuse going on in that household.Would that be enough, though? Will he help, or will he tell Dave and have me arrested?
I don’t know anything for certain, but it’s worth a shot. I’ll risk my career, the possibility of prison, my life—anything to save Eloise.
“I have an idea,” I say. “It might be the stupidest thing ever… but it also just might work.”
32
Eloise
3 days later…
I stand in front of the floor-length mirror in my dressing room, smoothing my hands over the silky fabric of my dress. It hugs my curves like a second skin, flowing to the floor in shimmering pools of gold. The slit on the left side extends up to the top of my hip, revealing the entire length of my leg whenever I take a step. The dress brings out the color of my eyes, and paired with the dramatic smoky eye and red lipstick, they’re almost frightening.
I bring a hand up to my face, tucking a rebellious piece of hair back into its updo. No matter what I do, it keeps falling forward into my eyes, refusing to do what it’s told.
It’s driving me insane.
I’ve been slowly losing my mind for the past week, cooped up with zero human interaction—and I’m starting to think this piece of hair is the thing that will make me snap.
Ever since the two security officers brought me back to the mansion, I’ve been forced to stay in my bedroom, cut off from everyone and everything. I couldn’t even go downstairs to get a damn snack.
I haven’t seen much of Forest, but based on hushed conversations I’ve overheard, he’s still around—though, not for much longer. Once, Dave could forgive, but the second time I snuck out, Forest was as good as gone. Dave is working on finding a replacement for him as we speak, and I have no doubt the new guard will be far more cruel than Forest.
The more I think about it, the deeper I fall into that ever-present pit of despair. Taking a deep breath, I step away from the mirror, needing to focus on something to take my mind off my bleak situation.
I gaze toward the exit, knowing in a few minutes, I’ll have to go out on that stage. My stomach roils with disgust. Thelastthing I want to do is perform—but what else is there for me now?
I’m about to turn back to the mirror when there’s a knock on the door. Confused, I whip my head over my shoulder. “Hello?”
The lock clicks open, and I’m surprised to find Forest standing in the threshold. He’s dressed in a navy-blue suit, complete with a tie and dress pants—looking quite snazzy despite his surly frown and angry eyes.
“Hi, Forest. What’s up?”
Forest doesn’t say a word, just steps into the room, stopping a foot away from me. Silently, he holds his fist out, gesturing with his chin that I should do the same. I hold my palm out flat, and Forest places a small, folded note into the center.
I gaze up at him, a question on the tip of my tongue, but the look in his eye has the words dying in my throat. “Tell them the truth, Eloise.”
“What?”Tell who the truth?“What are you talking about, Forest? What is this?” I’m not sure what’s happening. He’s said more words to me in this one interaction than in the entirety of the time I’ve known him, and none of it makes sense.
He just shakes his head, silently telling me not to question. He closes my fingers over the note and steps back, his expression clearing. “Are you ready for tonight?”
“I… suppose.”
