That’s how I feel now. If I could just lay everything on the line, tell Robin and Fey everything. It would be so much easier.
I cannot. I’m no moron. There’s not a single soul in the whole wide world whom I can trust with the truth. The only person who comes close to that is Jeremy. But that’s only because he’s experienced all those things with me.
And still, I hold secrets from him. Secrets about my ultimate purpose. Fledging plans for my future revenge.
No, I only have myself to rely on. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it always will be. I can’t change that. And really, if I could, would I want to?
It’s all I’ve ever known.
So right now, we’re at the tipping point. I can feel it in the air. There are two ways this conversation can go. Either I admit to some of the things I’m guilty of, and try to salvage relations with Fey, and Robin. Or, I just add heat to the fire. Provoke Fey even more, and hope that this way, it’ll be enough to get her to leave… of her own accord.
The second option’s not ideal. Far, far from it. I would be doing nearly irreparable damage to my relationship with a friend.
But sometimes you have to just bite the bullet. The time for pleasantries is long over. Fey has made it clear she doesn’t trust me. She said so herself when we left for Boston: that my explanation sucked, and that she wouldn’t leave me alone until she was absolutely convinced that I was safe.
That is what I thought I had to do before granting her that ultimate conclusion. It is what I was aiming for when I agreed to have her and Robin meet Jeremy with me.
Obviously, that was the preference. Doing things that way—successfully—would have been much preferred. I would have kept her friendship, while at the same time remained firm in my knowledge that I do not have to worry about her interfering anymore.
But this way…fueling one of her blowups…might be an easier way for me to achieve the same goal. If she gets mad enough to storm off—to vow never to bother me again—maybe that’s what I should do.
Because I’m tired of keeping track of all the lies I’ve fed her and Robin. I’m tired of the mental effort that keeping them all in line requires. If I could just eliminate her—her and Robin, both—from the equation, things would be so much simpler.
So, for better or for worse, that is what I decide to do.
“I know Jeremy owns this building,” I admit.
“See!” Fey exclaims. “There she goes, admitting it again.”
“I never denied it,” I counter.
“So why’d you do it, Lilly?” Robin asks. “Why’d you want us to stay in his building so bad?”
“Because it is his,” I say. “Because I trust Jeremy. Because I wanted to see him, without either of you knowing, before our meeting together.”
Fey gasps.
“Oh, come on,” I snarl. “Is that really such a surprise? You two, interfering with everything I did, meddling where you’re not wanted. Is it really so shocking that I wanted the freedom to speak with Jeremy without you hanging on every word? That I wanted some privacy?”
“So…did you?” Robin asks softly.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” I tell them. I’m fully committed now. There is no backing out. “He came to visit me last night. We…talked.” I stumble over the words. “And more.” My cheeks flush red.
“And more,” Fey mimics, still not looking at me. “That’s what it all comes down to for her, Robin! See? She’s addicted to the things Jeremy,” she emphasizes his name, “makes her feel. And she’s made it clear to us, time and time again, just how little we’re wanted.”
She turns to me. Her face is a horrible mask of fury and anger. “Fine, Lilly,” she spits, addressing me for the first time since all of this began. “Fine! You say you want to be left alone? You’ve got it. You can have your wish. Robin and I are leaving. I thought maybe we could drill some sense into you. But you’ve made it clear—with your actions, more than your words—how little we’re really needed.”
She yanks Robin up. “You won’t be hearing from us, or seeing us, ever again. Don’t bother calling. I won’t answer. Not when I know that you’re still with…with…with him!”
She drags Robin out of my room after her. “Oh, and Lilly?” she adds, turning around just before slamming the door between our rooms. “Don’t bother coming to the wedding. Your invitation is officially rescinded.”
In the silence that follows, I fall on the bed.
Mission accomplished, I think, wearily.
Chapter Six
For the next hour or so, I’m bombarded by raised voices from the adjoining room.
Fey and Robin are arguing. They still haven’t left. The uncertainty of whether they will or not has me on edge.
I can’t make out the things they are saying. Even if I could, I still wouldn’t listen.
I am not the bitch I have made myself out to be. But there was no other way. I couldn’t persuade Fey with words alone. Certainly not while still keeping things civil.
Eventually their voices stop. I hear the front door of their room open and close. I let out a breath that I feel like I’ve been holding for years.
And with that, it’s done.
I’ve successfully isolated myself from the outside world. Everything I know, everything I do, will now revolve around Jeremy—which is how it always should have been.
Trying to maintain cordial relations with Fey, given what she knows, given her behavior, was a pipe dream. I should have understood that before making the trip out to Boston. Jeremy alone gives me enough to handle. I cannot juggle my relationship with him while simultaneously trying to balance mine with Fey.
Perhaps the wish for that was a remnant of the naivety I once had. My naivety and optimism.
Because when I was still in college, surrounded by so much potential—no matter how hard I was working, or how busy my life may have been—I still had that magical sense of opportunity. It’s cliché, I know. But I feel—just a little bit—like the world was my oyster.
Of course, it helped that all the advisors and concentration advisors were paid to make us believe that.
Still, that’s a large part of what made Yale—despite all the work—such a pleasant environment. We were all undergrads, constantly stressed. We were all, in our own way, dealing with mountains of assignments and tests and extra curriculars and deadlines. I was not the only one who worked hard. Far from it.
They were selling us the American Dream: Work hard. Keep your head down, and you’ll succeed. Oh yeah, and you’re in an institution that the rest of the world recognizes as the best, so you’d better not let us down.
Thousands of kids applied to Yale and got rejected. I just had a bit better grades in high school. That’s all.
So I have to stop thinking of myself as being capable of more. I can’t focus on two things at a time. Not while trying to achieve what I really want to.
And so, Jeremy has to be the sole focus in my life. I can’t be sad about losing Fey.
Self-pity is the most dangerous emotion.
I exhale and get up. Now I just wait for Jeremy to return, and take things from there.
Just like I wanted.
I’m surprised, however, when I find a small slip of paper under my door. I pick it up. It reads:
Fey is still mad, and I am, too. But unlike her, I think I understand. If you every truly need any help, you can come to me.I won’t shut you out.
Robin
My heart melts, just a little bit, when I read that note.
But then my natural instincts kick in. He says he “understands.” Understands what? How much does he know? How much has his research revealed? Damn, I wish I’d had the foresight to talk to him about it all before engineering the blowup with Fey. But that happened as a spur-of-the-moment decision. I anticipated making time, this evening, to wring all I could out of Robin. Before we all met Jeremy.
At least this way, the meaning is no longer a concern. Yet I still wish I ha
d more information. I wish I knew exactly what Robin had uncovered. Malpractice at Stonehart Industries? I don’t doubt that. Jeremy Stonehart is a ruthless man. If his treatment of me—before the pronouncement of his feelings—was any indication of the things he’s capable of commissioning in the business world, then I can’t even fathom how rotten Stonehart Industries could be at its very core.
Is that my concern? Perhaps. The company is as much an extension of Jeremy as any appendage he possesses. It might help me understand the things he is capable of.
Then again, don’t I have a very real understanding of all those things? I have direct, personal, intimate experience of all of them. It’s not like there exist many cruelties worse than what he’s already done to me.
I cut off that line of thinking. Those are poisonous thoughts. I’m not about to dwell on the past again. I won’t forget. I’ll never forget. But, I won’t let those memories define me today.
I tuck Robin’s note away. I debate disposing of it. But then I think better of it. My initial impulse is to worry about what Jeremy might think if he found it. But a bit of reflection tells me that it might serve as proof, in Jeremy’s eyes, that I managed to get rid of Fey and Robin without having the meeting. Just in case it’s needed. I won’t show him otherwise.
I look at the clock. It’s nearly eight. Jeremy’s deadline is four hours away. I’m almost as nervous about that as anything else. I know it’s important to him—even if I know nothing about what the acquisition actually is. Since it’s important to him, by extension, it’s important to me. Success or failure could determine his mood for the next week. Maybe more.
I go and find my phone: the one I vowed not to use until Jeremy swore the restrictions were off. Oh, the irony behind that line of reasoning!
I turn it on. It boots up lightning fast. I wait to see if there are texts, or messages from Jeremy. There are none.
I send him one of my own, keeping it purposefully cryptic:
Fey and Robin are dealt with. I will wait for you return.
As I start putting my phone away, it buzzes with a new text.
Good. I trust you. I am glad that you sorted things out.
Aren’t you busy? I text back. How is the acquisition going?
We’ve hit an impasse. Break now. Tell more soon.
Okay, I say. Good luck.
I make my own luck.
I smirk. That is typical Jeremy.
I consider leaving things at that. But, there’s one other thing that’s been digging at me all day. Since I have Jeremy free…
Hugh came to visit me this morning.
Silence. Jeremy does not reply
I wait for a minute, then two. When the time between texts stretches out even more, I start to worry.
Shit! Maybe I shouldn’t have told him that now. He has enough to deal with at the moment, more than enough on his plate…
My phone starts to ring. It’s Jeremy’s number.
“Hello?” I pick up.
“What did you just say?” he demands. “About Hugh?”
“Forget it,” I say quickly, my pulse racing. Jeremy sounds livid. Absolutely furious. “I’ll tell you about what happened after you’re done.”
“Lilly, I just walked out of some of the most intense negotiations of my life to make this phone call. You will not tell me later. You will tell me now.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling all sorts of guilt—and worry—over interrupting him this way. If things go poorly when he returns to the bargaining table, will he pin the blame on me?
Or am I giving myself way too much credit for the sort of influence I have over his life?
“It was quick,” I say. “Nothing happened. Nobody else saw. He knocked on my door and asked to enter. I said no. He tried to insist. I pushed him away.”
“Did he give you any trouble?” Jeremy asks. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“All he said was that he wanted to talk. I refused.”
“And that’s it?”
“And that’s it,” I confirm. “Oh! He tried to give me an envelope.”
More silence. I start to fidget as it stretches.
“Jeremy?” I ask. “Are you still there?”
“Did you take it?” he demands. “Did you take the envelope from him, Lilly?”
“What? No! Why would I?”
“Are you certain,” he persists, “that you are not lying to me?”
“No, Jeremy. I wouldn’t! Not ever. Why would I lie?” My confidence starts to return, fueled by the false accusation of his words. “In fact, I volunteered this information to you, Jeremy. Nobody said I had to share.”
Jeremy makes a displeased, angry growling noise in his throat. Part of me is glad that he’s not here in person; another part wishes he were. That way I could judge his reaction much better.
“Lilly,” Jeremy says slowly. “Listen to me very carefully. My father was a powerful man. I crippled him. But his mind is still sharp. He could be very dangerous to you. To us.
“You will not withhold information about him from me. Not ever. I did not grant him permission to go and visit you. He did it behind my back. I don’t know what he’s aiming at. But we have to be careful. Did he mention Rose?”
“Rose?” I bunch my eyebrows up in confusion. “No, why would he mention Rose?”
“The truth. Now, Lilly!”
“No!” I emphasize. “He did not. I’m not lying to you Jeremy. Dammit! Stop accusing me of it.”
“I have to be sure.” He pauses. “I’ve got to get back. Already I’ve devoted more time than I intended to you. I will speak to Hugh and see what he has to say. If his story matches yours, that is one thing. If it does not…” He trails off, leaving the threat dangling in the air. “There will be unpleasant consequences.”
He hangs up.
I stare at the phone in my hands. Unpleasant consequences? For whom? For Hugh, or…
I swallow.
For me?
Chapter Seven
Jeremy’s parting comment has me in a panic. I thought we were past that stage of our lives. The uncertainty of what he means is wreaking havoc with my mind.
I need to see him. That’s all, I tell myself as I try to find some way of keeping calm. I need to see him, in person, and all this will be solved.
But do I want to see him, given what such an encounter might bring?
Well. It’s infinitely preferable to the alternative: the meeting with him, Robin, and Fey. That could have been disastrous. Now the danger’s averted, and I can get back to…
To what? To work? To my life?
My life is whatever Jeremy decides it is. The position he has given me within Stonehart Industries is little more than a sham. I’m sure of it. Either that or a test. A test of…
A rush of adrenaline hits me and I sit straight up.
A test?
Could Jeremy have given me the position so I’d be a guinea pig? A subject to try out his virtual reality tech on? The computerized illusion he’s created…The performance he coordinated with Hugh, and Simon…Was that his ultimate goal for me? Was that the real purpose of my being at Stonehart Industries?
Jesus Christ! It might have been. And I’ve been blind to it until now?
I put a hand to my forehead.
Think, Lilly! I chide myself. Remember the man you’re dealing with!
Jeremy—whether I think of him as Jeremy or Stonehart—is the same person who imprisoned me. He’s the same person who waited nearly two decades for me to grow, to capture me and get revenge for what my father did to his mother.
And even if he claims that things have changed now, even if he professes very deep feelings for me—and even if I’ve started to believe in them—he is still a master of lies, of deceit, of direct manipulation. He is a case study for delayed gratification. How long has he lurked in the shadows, watching me, keeping tabs on me, as I grew from a child to woman to adult?
An uncomfortable shiver crawls up my spine. These are unpleasant thoug
hts. They are ones that I’ve avoided in recent weeks. Why? Because I’m scared of them?
No. Because I know where they lead. They lead to resent and hatred.
And despite all that’s been done to me, I don’t want to hate Jeremy. Not now. In fact, I can almost muster up a feeling of…pity…for the man.
I shake my head. No, pity is no good either. Pity weakens me much more than hate. I don’t want to hate Jeremy for my own selfish reasons. Mostly, because I don’t want to start loathing, again, what my life has become.
Hatred will foster a poisonous atmosphere. It will weigh me down, more than any internal force. I think I’ve been put in some rough situations now? Throw hatred into the mix and those would be unbearable. I would not be able to enjoy any of the things that Jeremy offers.
And truly…he offers a lot. So what if the path that brought us together was dark, twisted, and malicious? So what if his reasons for seeking me out were so wrong? What matters is what we have between the two of us now, and what will happen in the future.
But always, I circle back to my ultimate need for revenge. I promised myself I would take Jeremy Stonehart down. I don’t make empty promises. Nor do I forget. I will remember all that he’s done to me, for our entire time together.
Maybe we’re much more alike than I first envisioned. I have my secrets. He has his. I have my goals, my intentions. Jeremy has his. We both claim honesty. We both claim that we show each other the truth.
In both cases, that’s a big fucking lie.
The worst part—or maybe the best—is that both of us know it. We continue to deceive each other, each in our own way, and make no apologies for it. Not internally, at least.
And maybe that…maybe that very aspect of our relationship…is what makes us so compatible.
I lean back in the chair. A crooked smile flitters across my face. Jeremy and I are compatible, aren’t we? Somehow, through some menacing twist of fate, the abductee has fallen for her abductor.
It’s not Stockholm Syndrome. Not anymore. Not when I have the freedom to leave and choose not to. I’ve had ample opportunity to run away or go to the police. I have all the video records of what he’s done to me. I have more than enough real, solid evidence to lock Jeremy up for good.
Uncovering You 8: Redemption Page 6
