Page 39 of Depraved Truths

I sit on the couch as Eli pours two glasses of what looks like scotch from a decanter. He sets them on the coffee table before sitting beside me. I eye the glass warily. He wouldn’t poison me, would he?

Noticing my hesitation, Eli raises an eyebrow and takes a long swallow of his drink. Seeing this, I follow suit, needing something to steady my nerves. The burn of the liquor slides down my throat, and I slam the empty glass onto the table.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I need to know who the fuck hurt you,” he demands.

The words hit me like a punch. I freeze, shock flooding my system. Of all the questions, that’s the first thing he asks?

“Tessa, answer me. Who. Hurt. You?” His eyes flare, intense with something between anger and concern. “You didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to kill people.”

A cold knot of nerves tighten in the pit of my stomach. “P—people?” I avert my gaze, unable to meethis eyes.

“The fire at Conrad’s. That was you, wasn’t it? You were there the morning after his house burned to the ground. The day I first laid eyes on you and knew I had to make you mine.”

I laugh bitterly. “I bet you’re rethinking that decision now.”

“Youaremine.” His voice is low, possessive, his eyes burning with something that could be called love, if it weren’t so intense. “I don’t care what you’ve done—or why. Nothing would change my mind about the fact that you belong to me.”

“You can’t promise me that.” My voice cracks, and tears fill my eyes. They spill over, streaking my face as the dam inside me threatens to collapse.

He cups my face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm. “Yes, I can.” His lips brush against mine in a soft kiss. “Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out.”

This is it. The truth—the raw, exposed truth—is about to spill out, and I know he’ll finally understand how broken I am. He doesn’t know it yet, but once he does, he won’t want me. Who would? I’m damaged goods. Losing him... that might break me completely. I don’t know if I could handle it. My heart is already a crumpled mess, and he’s the last thing holding it together.

I shove the fear aside and close my pocketknife, placing it carefully on the coffee table.

“It all started when I was twelve.”

Chapter 27

Igrab a throw pillow, cradling it against my abdomen, as if it could offer some comfort while I unburden myself of the darkest of secrets. I take a deep breath before continuing.

“For the first decade of my life, my childhood was picture-perfect. I never wanted for anything. My dad is a lawyer, just like his father before him, and his grandfather before that. My mom has always been the docile, socialite wife, deeply involved in the community. It wasn’t until I was about nine years old that I realized my family wasn’t as perfect as I thought. One night, I overheard my parents arguing—my dad berating my mother. It was the first time I had ever heard him speak to her that way. He’d been drinking, and when he was drunk, he was cruel. I’ve never seen him physically violent with her, but his words were brutal. He told her she was a pathetic excuse for a woman because she couldn’t bear him a second child. A son. I remember the disdain in his voice. I’ll never forget his words.”

God, this is hard.I haven’t felt this vulnerable in a long time. Eli’s concerned gaze hasn’t left mine as he waits for me to continue.

“She seemed to change after that night, becoming more distant, immersing herself in tennis lessons and multiple charitable organizations. When Dad wasn’t working long hours at the firm, he was playing golf at the country club with his colleagues. More often than not, he came home drunk. He grew close to one of our neighbors, and soon, my mom became friends with his wife. Dinner parties and fundraisers became regular events at their house and ours, back and forth. They had two kids, and I adored them. They were like brothers. I loved Mrs. Tammy, William’s wife, but I never felt fully comfortable around him.”

My voice hitches on a sob, and Eli takes my hand, silently urging me on. “And then one night, I realized that my intuition was right.”

Eli’s face hardens, his jaw clenches as he spits out, “Tess, what the hell did he do?” Determined not to let my emotions overwhelm me, I fight to keep the tears at bay, telling myself it’s not my story anymore, that I’m only retelling someone else’s.

“We were at William and Tammy’s house, and I was watching the boys. Babysitting was something I always wanted to do. I saw teenagers babysitting on TV, and I wanted to see what it was all about. That night, I was getting paid for it. I didn’t need the money, but the desire to prove I could be responsible and earn something on my own was so strong. I thought it would make Dad proud.”

“After putting the boys to bed, I fell asleep on the couch in front of the TV. The next thing I remember is waking up to that monster. I tried to get away, but he threatened to kill my parents. I was young and so scared, and all I could do was wish I was somewhere else. I desperately hoped it was a nightmare, one Icould wake up from. But the next morning, when I got out of bed, I felt the unmistakable discomfort between my legs and the dried, sticky substance on my stomach.” I shudder violently, the memory sharp and clear, as though it happened yesterday.

Eli’s jaw clenches. “Did you tell your parents?”

“They didn’t believe me,” I say, unable to meet Eli’s eyes. “They thought I’d had a nightmare and later accused me of making it up for attention. They lost my respect that day. I knew then that their reputation and their friends mattered more to them than I did. Their own flesh and blood.” The silence in the room is deafening, louder than my racing thoughts. Still avoiding his gaze, I add, “I can understand if this is too much for you. I can go.”

Before I can move, his hands firmly grip my shoulders, holding me in place.

“Tess,” he growls, his voice rough and commanding, “look at me.”

I meet his gaze, expecting disgust, pity, or something equally shattering. But all I see is sadness and concern.

“You’re not too much. You could never be too much for me. Nothing will change that. Ever.” He leans over and kisses my forehead before pulling me into his chest. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault. You were targeted by a sick bastard who belongs in hell.” I can feel his anger radiating, thick and palpable. He holds me tight in his arms, and the comfort he offers seeps into my bones. I finally let go, and the tears fall freely now.

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