Page 52 of The Favorite Girl

“Demi… you were sold to him. The reason they never hurt you was because you were always intended to come here. You were always intended to be a part of this family.”

“I don’t understand?” I placed my hand over my heart, praying it’d slow down.

“Trent has folders, too—binders full of the women he’s bought from parents, kidnappers, and more. Conrad hand-selected you from a folder.”

“Conrad?” I gasped.

“You’ve always been the favorite girl, just like Mrs. Ivory once was. You were chosen to marry Conrad Ivory—just like Dr. Ivory’s father bought Mrs. Ivory for him—and eventually, the two of you will continue this family legacy.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of everything. “What?”

“You’re going to be the next Mrs. Ivory.”

“Conrad picked me out of a binder?” I repeated the statement to myself.

“Yeah. He liked that you weren’t pale, while his father hated you for your skin color. He prefers…”

“Only white people?” I filled in, looking up at Bradley.

“Green eyes, blonde hair, and white skin is the Ivory family specialty. Dr. Ivory believes that it continues the legacy. If the girls have brown hair, they dye it. If they don’t have green eyes, well…” Bradley pinched at his eye and tugged the small contact out, “then they change that, too.”

“Conrad wanted you. He thought you were breathtaking, which… you are, Demi.” Bradley stared at me and moved closer, sitting next to me on the bed.

“But he wanted a tanned-skin woman with blonde hair. He also didn’t want you to have green eyes, so they don’t make you wear the contacts… yet. But as soon as you become his wife and eventually take over this… business, they’ll make you wear them.” Bradley tucked the short hair behind my ear. “For what it’s worth, I liked your black hair,” he said sadly.

“I’m not going to marry Conrad.” I furrowed my brows and looked into Bradley’s eyes. One eye was a light brown, while the other had a green contact in.

“You have to, Demi. If you don’t, they’ll cage and torture you. They’ll torture you so badly that you’ll wish you were dead or had just married him.”

“If they are so big about submissive wives, then why aren’t they caging me? Why aren’t they forcing me to withstand white-torture?”

“Because Conrad told them he’d never take over the business if they did that to you. He said you were already submissive enough. You do everything you’re told; you haven’t run away. Sure, you called the police, but that doesn’t mean anything. The police?—”

“Bradley! What are you doing in here?” Conrad’s voice cut through the heavy conversation, stunning us both. Bradley jumped up and fastened his hands behind his back.

“Mr. Ivory,” he bowed his head. They couldn’t be more than a couple of years apart in age, yet Bradley was acting like Conrad was his boss.

But then again, wasn’t he?

“Get out.” Conrad’s teeth gritted together as Bradley quickly moved out of my room. I looked at him once more before the door slid shut.

He tilted his head and looked at me with sheer sorrow.

“Did he touch you, Demi?” Conrad took Bradley’s spot on the bed next to me. Instantly, I scooted back as I looked at the handsome man in front of me.

“Did you order me from a magazine to be your wife?”

Conrad looked like someone had slapped him across the face. “Demi… Bradley had no right, and he will be dealt with.”

“No. You won’t do anything to him!” I shouted and stood.

“Listen to me, Demi. I don’t want my soon-to-be wife being a fucking whore. Did he touch you? Did he touch what’s mine?” Conrad’s eyes dropped below my waist as he shot up and grabbed my arm. I tried to wriggle out of his grip, disgusted that this man was even breathing the same air as me.

“He didn’t do anything, and I’m not yours, you psycho.” I tried to shove him off me, to no avail, and I bumped into the small vanity. Conrad gripped my wrists tightly between his hands and flung me onto the bed.

“If I don’t see blood, I’ll know you’re a disgusting slut and ruined. If I don’t see blood, you’ll never become my wife; instead, I’ll make sure you rot in the cages until you die, and then I’ll give my father your bones for decoration.”

I began pushing my feet against the bed, trying to sit up, but Conrad moved even faster, hovering over me. He unzipped his pants and looked at me with evil in his fake-green eyes.

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