I look down at the picture again. It gives me an unsettled feeling in my stomach. Nicholas is dressed head to toe in black, and the outfit he is wearing is not the clothing of someone who’d be carrying a priceless painting around for any honest purpose.

“It’s stolen.” The words escape me, and I will my mouth and brain to disconnect. If they keep speaking my thoughts, I could really end up beaten or worse.

The Viscount laughs out loud, the sound filling the room.

“Maybe you are smarter than I gave you credit for.” He takes the photo out of my hands and places it back in the envelope. “Of course it’s stolen. How do you think we all have the money we do? Looking after old houses and maintaining certain social standards doesn’t come cheap. Nicholas Cavendish thinks he can give these things back and get away with it… No, it’s not happening.”

My tormentor kneels down in front of me and runs his tongue over my face.

“Art equals money. Money equals power. Power equals women, and women equal slaves. That is the future of the Oakfield Society.”

A final kiss is pressed to my lips, and I’m thrown onto the floor before the Viscount leaves me lying there, alone. My heart pounds in my chest—its rapid beat is loudly thumping, and I place my hands over my ears willing it to go away, wanting the world to go away. I’m never going to be free. I slide my hands down my body to my stomach.

“Please God, don’t let a child be in there. I can’t bring another life into this world. It’s corrupt and evil. It’s hell. Hell is on Earth, and the devil is Viscount Hamilton.”