In England, it is: https://rapecrisis.org.uk/get-help/
In Canada: https://sexualassaultsupport.ca/support/
In Australia: https://au.reachout.com/articles/sexual-assault-support
In Europe: https://www.rainn.org/international-sexual-assault-resources
And if I've missed where you live and you need support, please contact me privately onTumblrand I will gladly help you find the right resources.
Chapter 29 – I Fell in Love with the Wrong Guy
In which justice is served.
Warning: graphic violence
The next two days were surreal for Lauren. She smiled and nodded and organized and directed, but all the while she wondered if Thomas had killed Meyers. At one particularly low moment, she wondered if he'd include her father in the execution. There were several other branches undergoing an examination at the same time as Atlantic Equities, so she saw very little of her husband, who remained his polished, urbane self even as she anxiously examined his expression when he returned home.
It was the third night when they were hosting a send-off for all the executives when she finally had her answer.
As fond as she was of Clara, the girl was driving her insane with her endless chatter about her wedding- a mere ten days away. "I just know Michael and I will be as happy as you and Thomas," Clara sighed with a dreamy smile as she sorted the guestlist for the third time.
Lauren stilled, staring at the girl who was obliviously humming. But... shewashappy. Equal parts terrified and aroused, but happy. Her life was not what she'd expected, but what she had with Thomas, how he treated her... Forcing her confusion away, Lauren forced a smile and nodded, "I know you will be Clara. You're so sweet, everyone loves you."
"Just as long as Michael does," Clara giggled, and her friend nodded a little too rapidly.
Despite Thomas's promise to keep her from having to interact with Frank, Lauren was bracing herself for an appearance. He was still CEO of the company, right? Surely, he'd be required to attend the biggest evening of the year for Atlantic Equities. But as the evening drew out, she realized her father was nowhere to be found.
"One of the most inspiring elements of acquiring new businesses into The Corporation," intoned Kingston, "is watching them grow and flourish under our guidance." Lauren's gaze darted around the room, but not a single eye rolled. Everyone's expressions were frozen into a look of polite attentiveness. Returning to watch Number One, her stomach rolled a little at his look of avuncular fondness as he gestured to one of the younger men in Atlantic Equities' group of vice presidents. "David, come up here, won't you?"
A huge grin stretched across the man's face as he loped up to join Kingston on the elegant set of stairs they were using as a spontaneous stage. He briskly shook the hand of his new lord and master, and Lauren shuddered a little, wondering if he had the slightest idea of what he was getting into.
"Are you cold?" Thomas whispered into her ear as his arm came around her, stroking the skin of her bare arm.
"Where's Frank?" Lauren barely breathed, but she knew her husband heard her as his perpetual expression of urbane amusement didn't even ripple.
"I told you that you did not have to see him, darling."
Number One's voice cut in at that moment, "Congratulations to the new CEO of Atlantic Equities, David Monson!" The overeager round of applause buried Lauren's gasp as the new head of her grandfather's company gave a triumphant little fist bump with an amused Number Three.
Thomas ignored the sensation of his wife's body stiffening as if she'd received an electrical jolt. He noted with approval that Lauren's smile stayed constant as she listened to Monson's modest speech about "bringing more success to Jaguar Holding's already sterling record," and clapping mechanically afterward.
Was it possible to actually wear a path in her husband's antique oriental rugs?
Lauren wondered this as she continued the triangle of steps she could by now walk blindfolded. It was exactly ten steps to the big, leaded-glass windows. Twenty-one steps to the fireplace. Thirty-five steps to the front entryway again. Thomas sent her home with Chuck again, and she'd politely asked her bodyguard to stay in the kitchen. She needed to pace, or she might start screaming, and that would never do.
Twenty-one steps to the fireplace. Was her father dead? Not that she viewed him as one anymore, but saving his life was the reason she'd been forced to marry Thomas in the first place.
Ten steps to the leaded-glass windows, looking out on the empty street. Did Thomas kill Frank himself? Did he use the gun or just order someone like Chuck to do it? Did he watch?
Thirty-five steps to the entryway. If Thomas killed her father, he'd broken his promise to her. Lauren's feet stilled and she stood in the spacious entry, staring at her reflection in the mirror there. The fact that her husband had broken his promise hurt even more than the thought that he'd murdered her father. What had she turned into?
Chuck eventually couldn't bear his charge's obsessive pacing and forced her to go upstairs and attempt to get some sleep. At around 2am, she could hear the front door open and the low tones of conversation between the two men before Chuck left and her husband's steps sounded on the wooden stairway. There was a low sigh as he stood in front of the bed.
"I know you're awake, darling. Sit up."
Lauren's teeth gritted against the screams she wanted to let out, the hysterical, terrifying questions. Carefully sitting up and putting her pillows behind her back, she looked at Thomas. He was unfairly beautiful, even at the late hour and a spray of stubble across his lean cheeks, tie loosened and hair cautiously beginning to wave from his strict style. He looked at her levelly, waiting for her to ask the question. But when Lauren spoke, it wasn't what he expected.
"You broke your promise to me."
