LESS WITNESSES, LESS PROBLEMS.

The time on sister Rosalyn's table clock gently ticked the seconds away; the room was quiet and serene.

"He 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?" I spat into silence.

"Yes, Eve. He did."

"How?"

"Through marriage."

"Marriage? At fifteen years old? Yea. I don't believe this." I declared.

"At eighteen. He was cautious, of course. Diligently groomed my father and me for three years while simultaneously climbing the ministry's ladder all the way to the trustee to my father's capital."

I wanted to say something but my brain was too slow to process all that she'd said, and she was too fast to move on with her story.

"Because I was my father's only child, with no relatives on the side, half of his wealth, many assets and what not came with it, would in time be inherited by me—"

"Only half?" I inserted before the nun could say anything else. "What about the rest?"

"The rest was for charities. But believe me, the half we're talking about was enough to cover three generations after me."

"Ah…oh, wow…"

"Yes. So Colton knew he had to squeeze his name into the family tree."

"…right…" I stretched.

"One day he came to my father asking for my hand. And since he had successfully turned himself into my father's personal angel, there could only be agreement on our union."

"And so you two got married."

"We did, in a very tight circle of my father's close friends. Then honeymoon. Colton brought me to Canada for nature and cruises."

"I'm pretty sure plenty of singles dream of getting kidnapped like this." I joked. But she didn't share the humor.

"Not like this." She replied, not sharing the humor. "But yes, kidnapping was never so smooth…"

"Hm.."

"He — supposedly — had 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 in mind, he told me. So much to do. Nature, sanctuaries, cruises, branches. But we ended up doing none of what we had planned. His sudden departure threw it all away. He told me, his 'gravely ill' uncle needed him to come as soon as possible for donative paperwork."

"The uncle thing was true?"

"Of course not." She said. "That was just an excuse to leave."

"Hm."

"He said to wait for him in Canada. And me being young, naive and in love, I'd waited, completely oblivious of the fact that he had already had a family on the side, a wife and a kid."

"My family, you mean."

"That's right. Hollie. And the boy Lucas, his two-year-old son."

"Woow…"

She nodded wistfully.

"So let me guess, he never came back to you…" I speculated.

"He did."

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes. He came back. After a month. And he'd changed. He was more reckless with words and actions, not affectionate and gentle as he was before he'd left. On the night of his arrival, he——" her face contorted. "We were close…"

My eyes narrowed. "Close…?"

"Yes, we—he—" She shook her head, distressed and repulsed. "Anyway. There I was, the very next morning, broken and puking. One test was enough to confirm my pregnancy." She swallowed, eyes round with resurfacing horror. "I was overwhelmed. And Colton apologized. Told me how very sorry he was for his prolonged absence, and how excited he was for the child we were to have. Promised to stay by my side from then on. Fed me his little lies. He 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to say those things to keep me content. Divorce would ruin his plans, especially since we had not yet signed the postnuptial agreement to divide my father's inheritance between the two of us."

"Why didn't he just do a prenuptial agreement?"

"To not be so obvious about hankering for my father's money."

I nodded, digesting…trying to put two and two together.

"For the next nine months I was held in a tiny flat he was renting for me in Banff."

"That's Canada still, right?"

"Yes, Western wing. The place was a resort town of Alberta. Somewhat private, just the way he wanted."

"Okay."

"It was certainly beautiful there, truly so much to see. But I saw only its fraction, through a window. He simply wouldn't let me leave, justifying it by his fear of me getting hurt, or catching a cold, or something else absurd. But he was never there with me, never spent any time except for seldom visits in between his 'work trips' in which he wouldn't even touch me. One of the many promises he couldn't keep."

"Why not simply go out when he wasn't there?" I mused.

"Ahhh," she drawled. "Not that simple. He hired two men to watch over me."

"Why?"

"To 'keep me safe'. Like I've said – absurd. But back then I was in a foreign country, oblivious, alone and pregnant. And there were two heavyweights guarding my front door."

"And telephone?"

"No connection."

"Jesus Christ…what about food and stuff?"

"They took care of it all. Food, water, other necessities, you name it. I'd make a list of things and the bought it all."

"And the doctor appointments? I mean being pregnant, you had to have regular check ups, no?"

"The doctor came to me. I thought that at least appointments would get me out of the flat, but even that was off limits. And if ever I tried stepping foot out of the door, they'd block my way and shove me back in by Colton's order."

"So you're telling me you did not go outside for nine whole months…"

"Yes," she replied.

"To be honest with you, that's just…bizarre." I told her. "If I were on your place, I'd simply tell them guards or whatever they were to step aside. You're the wife! They would comply. And if they wouldn't comply, I'd find a way to call the police."

"Try doing that when you're drugged."

"What do you mean, drugged?"

"They drugged me, Genevieve. Constantly. Mild dozes of Benadryl or other relaxers. In small dozes they were harmless but extremely effective at keeping me blunt."

"For what? So you wouldn't leave the flat?"

"Mainly for that."

I pondered. "I don't understand this part. It's such a hassle…What's even the logic behind doing it?"

"On the surface – to keep me safe. But bottom line – to hide me."

"From who?"

"The world. Less witnesses, less problems. Just a part of your father's plan."

We exchange a look.

"After I gave birth, which was also in that flat, not even a few hour had passed when I was once again drugged and forced to sign postnuptial agreement. And you don't usually read terms and conditions under the influence. So without even realizing it, I signed away all of my father's wealth to Griffith."

"So he stole your money…" I concluded.

"He stole you." She uttered ruefully. "I only held you once. ONCE. To sing a lullaby to calm you down because you cried non-stop after you'd come out."

𝘈 𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘺. "It's off topic but the lullaby...was it something like this: my baby, close your pretty eyes…something——sleep under stars, and night and——something-something, hold you tight?"

Her jaw dropped as she gaped at me with disbelief.

"How…You rem…remember?" Her voice shook nervously.

"I——guess I do?" I responded. "I think I dreamed of it once."

She wiped her eyes before any tears could escape.

"Amazing," she whispered, "that you remember…My mother used to put me to sleep singing it. It goes like this: My baby, close your pretty eyes. Hush, darling, sleep 'neath starry skies. My love, don't fear the gloomy night. My angel, I will hold you tight."

That gave me goosebumps. The likeness of her voice to the one from my dream was extraordinary. But I did not comment. I just looked down and frowned. Thinking. Digesting. Processing…while her excruciatingly familiar voice continued gently.

"You looked so beautiful sleeping. And when I was holding you then I was…the happiest woman on er—rth." The gentle voice cracked, like an old tree branch.

My throat, too, went dry with bitterness. I inhaled.

She cleared her throat.

"And then the midwife snatched you away to do screenings. That's what she'd said…screenings. Both She and Colton left together. And I never saw you again."

A new question arose. "Where had they taken me?"

"I don't know…" her response soaked in guilt. "But with you and me out of his way, Colton had all the freedom and rights to do what he wanted with my father's wealth."

"Quick question." I interrupted. "Did your father ever tried looking for you? Was he not concerned with your absence?"

"Colton sent letters from my name to my father's estate, I presume constantly. All lies of course, but it worked at keeping things steady."

"What did he write?"

"That we were in Switzerland, at a gorgeous winter resort, having fun days on end, skiing, branching, enjoying our lovely honeymoon."

"And what did your father write to that?"

"No idea. I didn't get his letters."

"Then how do you know about your letters to him?"

"I found a draft of one in the trash bin, right after giving birth. I think Colton was brainstorming and forgot to destroy it. Ah, and, nothing about the baby. Just the two of us living our best life."

I mulled. "Okay, hold that thought. About the baby."

"Yes."

"I'll say something cruel, but…if he knew I'd be the next in line for grandpa's riches, why not just get rid of me in the beginning of the pregnancy? Why wait until I was born?"

"Who knows," she replied. "Perhaps he thought he could use you down the road to blackmail my father into giving up his capital, like demanding a thick ransom for your life."

"I'm sorry what? A ransom for his literal daughter's life?"

Her nod was matter-of-fact.

I shook my dubious head. "No. I just can't imagine him being capable of doing stuff like these."

"Oo-o-oh," she drawled all-knowingly, "he would be more than capable to come up with something so low. That is, if plan A failed. See, Colton's greed stretched 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 all imagination. And charity was his antonym. To him the mere idea of someone else having control over my father's funds was equal to torture. He wanted to be the sole possessor of every last penny in the piggy bank and, no doubt, was willing to jump over moral values to obtain it."

"Well if dad was such a calculative, manipulative, greedy bastard, could that even be possible for his plan A to fail?"

"Oh yeah. If my father ever found out about how I was treated, lied to, kept isolated, pregnant and alone, not to mention Colton's pursuit of my family's wealth, not even my signature on the legal contract would stop him from tearing Griffith to shreds."

"𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 he find out, though?" I mused.

"I 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 be silent." She was firm. "And Colton knew damn well, it was either me going down…or him."

"Down?"

"𝘋𝘰𝘸𝘯." Her voice was grave.

We exchanged a cryptic look.

I let out a sharp, confused exhale. "Sounds like a movie…Not real life at all."

"And yet, it is true."

My brain formed imagines. I thought of dad; simple, ordinary man in simple, ordinary clothing, driving simple, ordinary car, having a good-man job. No flash, no bragging. Everything — for God. Little — for man.

And all those times when he gave me his spare change for school lunches. When he made sure all of us were fed, clothed, with all of our needs met. Or even how he wanted Lucas to have it all. His smiles. Fatherly hands. Rare but nice family hikes and seldom retro movies we watched…

This was so strange to me, thinking about him as a villain. He was my farther, after all…probably that was why my brain tried to cling only to decent, ordinary memories.

"You know, I'm listening to you and struggling to recognize the father I've known my entire life in the man you're describing. Yes, he wasn't a saint, but he was certainly not the heartless monster you're depicting either. He was a decent man."

She smiled dryly. "It's what he does best, playing a decent man…"

"Don't know about that but okay. Alright!" I held my hands at her. "Let's just go in chronological order. I don't want to get all confused."

Her nod was the meekest.

"Right," I said, "so where were we… ah. The part were one of you had to go down."

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘸?