Page 81 of Ruthless God

“I reminded all the girls that they need to remain in their rooms unless instructed to leave.” Agnes moves closer, her presence a cold, calculating force. “I’ve also made sure that there is no need for you to go outside today while our… guests are here.”

Guests.

As if the men coming to exhume Gabriel’s body are here for a weekend retreat. As if they’re just old acquaintances, here tosip whisky and play a round of golf. Not to dig up my brother’s corpse and finally confirm whether I killed him or if I’ve been chasing a ghost.

I set the cup down with deliberate care.

And just like that, I know. I know. Cecely isn’t the only one trapped here. I am too. And it’s happened right under my nose. A slow, cold burn spreads through my chest. I’ve been so focused on keeping Cecely contained that I never noticed who was keeping me contained.

Until now.

And that? That is going to be a fucking problem.

I keep my expression neutral, my voice casual as I lean back in my chair. “Agnes, remind me how long you’ve lived here.”

Her brows furrow, hesitation flickering behind her cold exterior.

“How long, sir?”

I wave a hand, as if the answer is of little consequence. “Yes. How long?”

She straightens, smoothing her hands over her apron, as if reaffirming her place here.

“I’ve lived here since Mr. Gabriel bought this island, sir.” Her voice is steady, certain. “He brought me in when he needed someone to manage the household.”

My chest tightens. Not from surprise. But from the sheer, mind-twisting way she believes it. Her perception of why she came to live here is… skewed. Warped. Rewritten.

Did she arrive when Gabriel bought the island?

Yes.

But she didn’t walk onto this island as a manager.

She arrived in a cage. With three other women.

Women that my brother bought. And now? She’s standing here, pretending like none of that ever happened. Like Gabriel saved her instead of buying her. A slow, cold understandingsettles in my bones. Agnes isn’t just loyal to this house. She’s loyal to Gabriel. Which is why I sure as fuck won’t be sitting inside when the crew arrives to exhume the body while she runs free.

I dip my head, masking my thoughts beneath a carefully measured tone.

“That’s right. I couldn’t remember if you arrived then or when the main house was expanded.”

A casual deflection. A deliberate misdirection. I set my cup on the table with precise care.

Then, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes, I say, “What would I do without you?”

Agnes straightens, her shoulders squaring, as if she’s absorbing the praise like a drug.

But then she says it. The mistake. The slip.

“It’s my honor, Mr. Gabriel.”

Silence. The kind that sinks its claws in, suffocating the space between us. Her eyes widen. Her breath hitches.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t know why I called you that.”

A mistake. Or something else? Something ingrained in her. Something she still believes. For a second, I let the pause stretch, let the weight of it settle on her shoulders.

Then, easily, I say, “No worries, Agnes. We have the same face. I’m sure this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

---