My Father Sold Me To A Ruthless Duke—But Escaping Him Uncovered A Terrifying Family Secret
Part 2
The long walk to the massive guest wing felt exactly like a slow march to the wooden gallows.
I followed the heavy, echoing footsteps of the Duke’s personal valet.
He was a stoic, silent man who led me through the labyrinthine corridors of the grand estate without a single backward glance.
The grand, oak-paneled hallways were lined with massive portraits of forgotten ancestors.
Their painted, lifeless eyes seemed to mock my absolute, complete ruin.
I clutched a thick stack of fresh, lavender-scented linens tightly to my chest.
My knuckles were entirely white from the sheer physical strain.
My mind was frantically racing for any possible way out of this nightmare.
But there were absolutely no low windows to safely jump from.
There were no hidden, secret staircases to slip quietly down.
I was a helpless lamb walking entirely willingly into the bloody slaughterhouse.
When we finally reached the imposing master suite, the valet opened the heavy mahogany door.
He gestured silently for me to enter the dark room.
Then, to my absolute, suffocating horror, he pulled the heavy door firmly shut directly behind me.
The unmistakable, heavy click of an iron key turning loudly in the lock echoed with terrifying finality.
I was completely trapped.
The massive chamber was stiflingly warm.
It was heavily dominated by a massive stone fireplace.
A roaring fire cast long, aggressively dancing shadows against the velvet-draped walls.
The violent storm outside raged with renewed, terrifying fury.
The wind howled aggressively against the thick glass panes.
But inside the room, the silence was absolutely suffocating.
Brian Patterson stood casually by the large window.
His broad, muscular back was turned entirely to me.
He had casually discarded his expensive velvet evening coat.
He was wearing only a crisp, white linen shirt unbuttoned at the throat and dark, tailored trousers.
He held a heavy crystal tumbler of amber liquid.
He swirled it slowly in his elegant hand.
He told me I could drop the heavy linens.
His voice was a low, commanding baritone.
It did not need to be raised to demand absolute, unquestioning obedience.
I flinched violently at the sound of his smooth voice.
The desperate game was officially over.
There was absolutely no point in feigning pathetic ignorance anymore.
I let the thick stack of soft towels fall to the floor with a soft thud.
My heart hammered fiercely against my ribs.
I stood perfectly, rigidly still.
My chin lifted slowly in a desperate, trembling show of total defiance.
If I was to meet my violent end at his hands, I would do so with absolute pride.
Brian slowly turned around.
The bright firelight caught the sharp, ruthless angles of his handsome face.
His stormy gray eyes dragged slowly over me.
He took in the oversized, coarse wool dress.
He looked at the heavy linen cap that hid my golden hair.
He saw the dark smudges of soot that masked my aristocratic complexion.
There was a long, agonizing pause.
He murmured that my commitment to the role was entirely astonishing.
He took a slow, deliberate sip of his expensive drink.
He calmly stated that he had anticipated desperate tears or a massive tantrum when he bought my debts.
He did not anticipate me fleeing into the frozen moors like a common rat.
I spat angrily that I would rather scrub filthy floors until my hands bled than share a bed with a ruthless murderer.
His expression did not change at all.
But a highly dangerous spark ignited deeply in his gray eyes.
He set his heavy glass down on the mahogany table with a sharp clink.
He walked aggressively toward me.
He stopped mere inches away.
His sheer physical presence was entirely overwhelming.
He commanded me softly to wash my dirty face.
He pointed directly to the porcelain basin.
He warned me that his patience was not infinite.
My hands shook violently.
But then he stepped even closer.
He revealed a massive, terrifying secret about my own father’s hidden crimes.
He shattered my entire reality into a million jagged pieces.
Why had the most ruthless man in London really bought my debts, and what terrifying truth was my father hiding?
