Reign of a King: Chapter 28

I finally received another recording.

It’s been weeks since the last one. Damn weeks. I almost gave up on the hope that there would be something else.

The moment Paul called and told me I had a wooden box package, I drove to my flat so fast, I wouldn’t be surprised if a speeding ticket shows up in my inbox.

I sit in the middle of my lounge area, finger hovering over the Play button on my remote.

Unlike the previous times, I’m not so ecstatic about listening to my sister’s voice.

It’s the guilt, isn’t it? It’s catching up to me in every step I take. With every orgasm Jonathan wrenches out of me, and every slap of his hand against my arse.

It’s been weeks of being dominated by him in ways that make me not only delirious, but also beg for more.

Weeks of scorching hot meals and games where he ends up getting what he wants — which is usually my body.

Weeks of running me hot baths where he loosens me up just so he can fuck me all over again.

And with every week, the fact that he was my sister’s husband starts to fade away and becomes white noise.

Every day, I have to remind myself that I can’t get lost in Jonathan and that, besides H&H, the sole reason I agreed to the deal is to uncover the facts behind Alicia’s death.

The problem is, I started to forget about the deal altogether. In the beginning, I counted the days, but now, I vaguely remember that it’s been about six weeks since I started this journey.

Six weeks of rediscovering my body.

Six weeks of feeling.

Six weeks of forgetting about the outside world whenever Jonathan is in sight.

Or even in my thoughts.

I haven’t been thinking about Dad at all, despite the threat of him being granted parole. And that says something.

It’s like Jonathan is sucking my soul into a different dimension than the one we currently live in.

Chasing him away from my thoughts, I hit Play and sit on the sofa opposite the TV.

As usual, there’s a long silence before Alicia’s voice fills my flat. “I haven’t been truthful with you about the past, Claire. You know our mother had a one-night stand with your father, but you don’t know why she did it. Her husband, Papa, was an abusive man. And while I escaped his wrath sometimes, Mother never did. That’s why she killed herself. I was the one who found her sleeping peacefully in her bed with an empty bottle of pills lying by her side. Her will mentioned two specific things; one of them about you. I’m sorry I never told you about it before, but in my mind, I was protecting you. Her will states that she left all her properties to me. The second and only other item on that list was that I needed to cut all contact with you. Our own mother wanted us apart, Claire, and it was for a reason.”

The audio goes dead.

I keep staring at the screen as if it’ll magically resume or explain Alicia’s words.

Mum wanted us apart?

Granted, I never had a mother. I knew my biological mother had a one-night stand with Dad, and the moment she gave birth to me, she threw me in front of Dad’s doorstep and disappeared into the night like she was never there.

My start in this world was just like that. Unwanted. Thrown away. A shame.

When Alicia first came to see me, I was three years old and she was seventeen. I remember it so well, that first meeting. I remember the fascination and how I inched closer to her until her summer scent mixed with marshmallow and vanilla enveloped me. I remember the way we smiled at each other like we always knew we were meant to cross paths.

Alicia said that she found out by chance that she had a sister and confronted our mother to tell her where I was.

After that, Alicia made it a habit to visit me. Mum never did. No matter how many letters I secretly sent her.

With time, I stopped sending them and gave up trying to reach a mother who never once looked in my direction. I reached a point where I was content with having Alicia. She was the only mother figure I ever had.

There was never a day where Alicia pulled away from me. If anything, she’s the one who showered me with affection and love.

Mum died when I was five and Alicia was nineteen. Dad told me we weren’t allowed to attend the funeral.

I cried that day, not because of Mum, but because of the pain Alicia was going through on her own.

That same day, Alicia came to me and hugged me to sleep as we cried together. It was the first and last time Alicia spent the night with me.

She took me to London twice after that. First, to say goodbye to Mum’s grave, and again, on her wedding day.

That second time, she came to my school and picked me up. She bought me ice cream and a beautiful tulle dress with ribbons and lace.

After I attended her wedding, Dad came to London and fought with her.

I listened to their exchange from my position behind Dad’s truck. When he drove me away, Alicia was crying.

I wanted to cry, too, because I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted to stay with her and her new husband who looked like a god.

Alicia never tried to take me to London again. She came to visit me in Leeds, either weekly or bi-weekly, and we spent time together. Then she would leave at the end of the day and that was it.

Alicia never complied with our mother’s will or stayed away, so what did she mean by telling me that?

Was it because of Dad?

Did Mum already know what type of monster Dad actually was?

But she couldn’t have. They met a long time ago. Before he started killing…or was it after he started?

My head hurts just thinking about it. I won’t get caught up in that loop.

Because judging by the way things are heading, it seems like Dad has something to do with it. To know more, I’ll have to ask him, and that means seeing him.

The thought brings a sour taste to my mouth.

I don’t want to meet that devil until the day I die. The moment he sees me, he’ll kill and bury me in the grave he dug up that no bodies were found in.

My phone vibrates and I startle out of my trance. I expect it to be Layla since we had plans to go over the new accountant report together. We’ve become stricter about that since the last accountant’s backstabbing.

It’s not my best friend, though. It’s Jonathan.

I swallow. He rarely calls. If ever. He’s the type who likes to lash out orders in person or via email.

Clearing my throat, I answer.

“You’re late.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Late, Aurora,” he repeats. “Are you craving some punishment tonight?”

I hate how my legs snap together at the promise. He’s turned me into a nymphomaniac, I swear.

“What have I done?” I ask.

“Do you or do you not recall that we have a family dinner tonight?”

“Oh.”

“Right. Oh. I expect you to be here in ten.” He pauses. “And don’t wear red lipstick. I don’t want the two punks to see you that way.”

I smile despite myself. The subtle way Jonathan shows possessiveness always brings me a sense of power.

He shows it sometimes when I bicker with Harris and make fun of his snobby expressionless face. Jonathan usually shuts him down like a toddler. Doesn’t mean his right-hand man stops trying to prove to me that he can smile. He can’t.

My good mood disappears as the reality of what awaits me sneaks up on me out of nowhere.

Family dinner.

Jonathan decided we’d have dinner with Aiden, Levi, and their wives. I know it’s his way of keeping me from going to Ethan’s house or having any meals with him, but that doesn’t deny the reality of what I’ll have to face.

Family.

It’s not mine, but it’s still…family. Jonathan’s, to be more specific.

And from what I’ve heard, both his son and nephew are replicas of him — cold, ruthless, and calculating.

Aiden hasn’t even spoken to me since that day he threatened me to leave. I haven’t had any interaction with Levi, although I heard Margot mention to Tom that he sometimes visits during the day when neither Jonathan nor I are in the house.

If I can handle the older King, surely I can take on the other two, right?

Supposing I’m even ‘handling’ Jonathan. If anything, it’s the other way around.

It’s like I’m in a loop, the moment I think I see a way out, it resets to the beginning.

And now, I have to sit at a table with two mini versions of him who don’t like me at all.

How much worse could this be?