Page 49 of The Favorite Girl

His sister was one of the caged girls.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

I stood there, trembling with what I had just witnessed. Bradley leaned in and planted a delicate kiss against the young woman’s cheek. He turned back toward me, though his gaze remained on the ground.

“Bradley…” My voice crackled as I flicked my eyes between both of them. No response. He pushed past me and walked into the hallway. I followed him and the door slid shut behind us.

“Bradley, please talk to me. That girl is your sister?” I couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Bradley!” I raised my voice as he pressed his forehead against the wall and planted both hands by his face.

“Yeah,” he said desolately.

“Bradley, we have to get her out. What the hell? Is she here because she was an addict? What did you mean you tried everything but can’t help her? What is going to happen to her now?” I asked rapidly as my heart rate spiked and my entire body went into the state of panic.

Sighing, he turned to face me. “She’s someone’s favorite girl.”

Jerking back, I titled my head and eyed him. “What does that even mean? I thought I was supposed to become the favorite girl?” I felt stupid for even asking such a ridiculous question when I didn’t even know what the title meant.

“Demi, you’ve always been the favorite girl. Their favorite girl. But my sister is someone else’s.”

Running my hands through my hair, my breathing became erratic. “I don’t understand…”

“Demi, my sister has been chosen. She’ll be leaving here in a week. Come on… we have a wedding to plan.” He waved me toward the exit as if he didn’t just say the most outrageous statement.

“What do you mean, I’ve always been the favorite girl? And who’s wedding do we have to plan?” I had to break into a light jog just to catch up to him.

“Demi, just stop. Please. I cannot handle any questions when my entire life is crashing down in front of me, and I have no way to piece anything back together.” He rubbed his hands across his face as we exited.

“Let’s get your sister out of here?—”

“Fuck, Demi! You just don’t get it. There is no way out of here. This is hell, and we’re all going to burn. The sooner you accept it, the better off you’ll be and the less you’ll scorch. But if you play your cards right, you won’t even burn… you’ll get to live happily ever after.” He paused and suddenly, his facial expression shifted to annoyance. “Oh, I forgot to ask… how was your first kiss?” He rolled his eyes.

What? How did he know Conrad had kissed me? How did he know that was my very first kiss?

Embarrassment pooled inside of me as we continued to walk in silence.

I didn’t recognize the path we were taking, and I looked at the framed images as we walked down the narrow hallways. Each one was black-and-white, with couples on their wedding day. Slowing my pace, I studied them carefully. The men were all significantly older, while the women were frail and young…

I wish they were in color. I couldn’t tell what their hair or eyes looked like. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I could swear the women looked just like the caged girls. The caged girls with hair and wedding gowns on.

“Demi, come on,” Bradley said blankly. Opening the two doors, we walked in together, but we weren’t alone. Surrounding an oversized round table, Dr. and Mrs. Ivory sat there with an older man I had never seen before, Becca, and Conrad. Three identical binders were laid neatly in front of the man.

“It’s nice of you both to finally join us,” Dr. Ivory said with annoyance as Bradley nodded toward one of the empty chairs for me to sit.

Sinking down, I looked around the table, catching Conrad’s eyes. He winked at me, causing my cheeks to immediately grow warm, and beside me, Bradley grunted with irritation.

“Now that everyone is here, we are so very pleased to introduce our next client, Dr. Mason Davenport. As many of you know, his brother, Dr. Liam Davenport was once a client of ours as well. His selection, Oakley, was one of our best products—the perfect and most compliant blonde you could find. Dr. Davenport is here to select the make, model, and year of his purchase,” Dr. Ivory boasted proudly.

Wait… the Ivory family sold cars? No wonder they were abnormally wealthy. I leaned closer to the table, wanting to see the details of the folders. I didn’t even have a driver’s license, so car buying seemed so foreign to me. “Demi, as a valuable member of our family, we’d love for you to flip through one of the folders as well. Perhaps you can help Dr. Davenport here decide on some of the finer details. Plus, you’re the closest to our merchandise these days.” Dr. Ivory smiled at me in a way that made me realize the purchase wasn’t a car.

With shaking hands, I tugged the folder open and immediately choked on the air around me. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry.

But just as soon as I was going to react, I felt a hand grip my thigh. Glancing down, I saw Bradley’s hand squeeze my leg under the table, and when I made eye contact with him, he gave me a pleading look that clearly said, ‘Conceal every emotion in your body or you’ll be dead.’

“Definitely want a 2005 model. The younger ones are the best…” Dr. Davenport licked his bottom lips and grinned at me.

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