Page 11 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Instead of the door opening though, his harsh voice penetrates through it. “I told you many times not to call me that.”

“I won’t do it again, please, Mr. Dawson.” I burst into tears when the thing brushes again, and I hear a hissing sound akin to the ones mice make in cages. I press myself harder to the door, clasping my hands together and praying to God to help me convince Dad to get me out of here. “I’m so sorry.” I repeat the words I chanted the whole time the belt buckle was hitting my back, all the way as he dragged me to the basement to the laughs of his other children, and even here, when he threw me down the stairs and I bumped my knees on the rough concrete.

I don’t know what I’m apologizing for either. He just got so angry and drank too much before he removed his belt from his pants and screamed at me to come to him.

Maybe I shouldn’t have done it.

“Shut the fuck up, Briseis, before I come in and beat the shit out of you until you shut up.” I jump away from the door as if it burned me and sit on one of the stairs, wrapping my hands tightly around my knees. Silent tears stream down my cheeks, but I stay quiet even as my body hurts all over.

I don’t want any other bruises.

Rocking back and forth, I hum different songs, keeping myself company while the things brush against me over and over again, and with time, I find calmness in their presence.

Because in this darkness and cold, I’m not alone.

Even if it’s only a mouse or a rat keeping me company that could bite me at any time.

So it’s safe to say I hate nicotine.

“You want to introduce me to the ton so they can’t use it against him?”

Grandmother chokes on the smoke and then laughs, the mocking sound sinking its claws into my skin and leaving fresh scars. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised such an idea came to your stupid mind,” she says once she catches her breath. “You’re a dirty secret my family has that would have never happened if my son kept his pants zipped.” Anger flickers in her gaze, fury lacing her tone, and I mentally step back from the blow, although I know it’s coming. “He disgraced my family when he fathered a child with a nameless whore. You’re a Dawson, but for me, you are nothing but the daughter of a whore. You’ll never be introduced to the ton for as long as I live.” She has said it all to me so many times over the years, the pain etched itself in every part of me, so I almost don’t react to it.

Almost, because then I catch my reflection in the nearby mirror, reminding me I’m no longer a seven-year-old standing in front of this woman who teaches me a lesson every time I ask for anything that other kids in this house have.

No, I’m twenty-one years old, so I act like the grown-ups do.

Strike right fucking back, fed up with them throwing insults my mother’s way. “If my mother was whore… who is your son then who slept with her?” I straighten my back and lift my chin. “A Dawson stupid enough to be enamored with a whore. Maybe my stupidity comes from him.”

Grandmother’s jaw drops, shock evident in every feature while her eyes blaze with such fury she practically vibrates with it. “How dare you—”

I cut her off before she starts her speeches again. “No, Grandmother. How dare you insult my mother over and over again in my presence!” I shout the last part, and she leans back either from shock or what… I don’t know. Her cigarette ash drops on the floor, but neither of us pays attention to it. “Enough is enough. Don’t talk about her anymore,” I warn her, wondering where the hell this newfound confidence came from, but then I’ve lived alone for ten years.

I learned to take care of myself as no one else ever did, and I won’t allow anyone to put me down again.

“Or what?” she asks, but this time around, something else colors her tone, while her stare almost fills with… curiosity?

“Or you will regret it. If you don’t plan to introduce me to the ton, it means you want to keep me hidden here from the press if they start hunting for information.” Although her expression stays blank, I don’t miss how her jaw twitches, and that’s an answer in itself. “I’m not going to listen to the crap you spat at me for years. If you or anyone else in this house continues to say shit about my mom, I’ll retaliate. And none of you will like the consequences of it.”

If there is one thing the Dawson dynasty values above anything else, it’s their perfect reputation. And no one is allowed to smear it in dirt, but I so fucking will if it means taking my payback.

The only reason I’m holding back and playing by the rules is because I don’t want to be the center of attention to all those people… or rather wolves hiding in sheep’s clothing.

I put the book and the mug on the nearby table. “I don’t want your gift either. With your permission, I’m going to go to my room now.” Although, by my tone, I expect she is guessing I’m not really asking for permission.

I half turn, ready to get the hell out of here, when she exclaims loudly, “Wait!” She sighs, her nose twitching. “At least you have character. I can’t say the same about your siblings.” I ignore this statement; my siblings stopped interesting me when they laughed instead of helping me during the constant abuse I faced from their father. “Tonight, we’re celebrating his birthday. There will be a big party. You have to attend it.” She waits a beat before adding, “Then you will go back to Greece or any town in Europe to do whatever you want.”

Right, how could I forget about the story they came up with a long time ago?

For all intents and purposes, I’m the adopted daughter who this household took care of when my real parents died. This way, no one would ever judge Dawson, but there is a small detail they seem to forget.

My birth record must show the truth, or so they said; not to mention, it would be really easy to find out who I truly am if anyone wants to destroy Dad’s alliances.

Having a bastard was one thing. The upper class could have closed their eyes on that one, but not when Dad built his entire persona as a devoted husband and father who put his family above anything and anyone.

In the end, he did anyway when he kicked me out.

I focus only on the second part and cross my arms. “I won’t go back to Greece. I’m staying in Chicago.”

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