Page 81 of Owned By a Billionaire

“I know how to protect myself.” He remained serious. “You were saying? About searching for your parents?”

From one ugly subject to another. I released a tight breath. “My foster mother didn’t know their identities. I kept asking, but to no avail. The agency wouldn’t divulge as they were sworn to secrecy. I tried investigators, even had them poring over the hospital records from around the period of my birth.”

“So you knew they weren’t your real parents, then?”

“I discovered that at around fifteen or so.” It came flashing past me like a horror movie, the day that woman I thought was my mother told me we weren’t related by blood. She’d said so after her husband raped me, as though that information somehow made things better.

“Maybe sometimes there are certain things that are meant to remain unknown.”

“I’ve told myself often enough.” I sniffed. “But at times—like now, since we’ve brought it up—the thought of not knowing haunts me. They must have been terrible people. Otherwise, why would they hide?”

“They may not be alive. Your mother could have been so young she wasn’t able to cope. You possess an intelligent mind, enviable drive, and a fabulous family who love and rally around you.”

I nodded slowly. “That family is why I guard everything so close here.” I tapped my chest. “But that doesn’t stop me from wondering about my predecessors.”

He nodded sympathetically.

“Perhaps on a deeper level, I’m frightened of what I might find. What sort of parents, or parent, give up their children?” I rolled my eyes at that obvious hypocrisy. “Because what’s even more ironic and somewhat tragic is that I gave Bethany away.” I brushed my red fingernails. “That went well. Look at how she ended up.”

“You can’t blame yourself for her personality. It’s a little of nature and nurture combined.”

“Nature, for sure,” I muttered under my breath, since there were aspects of Bethany that always reminded me of her father. One of several reasons I found it difficult to remain in her company for long.

Mark must have read my thoughts, and his brow lowered. “Oh? The father?”

“Do you really want to know?” I asked.

“Well, we’ve gotten this far, and nothing you say will truly shock me. Even if you admitted to first-degree murder, I’d probably still be looking forward to feeling your heartbeat against mine.”

I had to smile. “You say the nicest things.”

He sniffed at my dryness.

I welcomed the respite and, unable to remain seated, rose to go to the window, where an elderly couple walking arm in arm caught my attention. Would that be us one day?

“And Bethany’s father?” he asked gently.

“Bethany’s father was my foster father. He’s rotting in hell, I hope.”

His brows creased. “Consensual?”

I shook my head violently, like someone about to face execution for a murder they did not commit. Perhaps that was a gross exaggeration, but it was how distraught I became at the slightest suggestion I might have agreed to sleep with that monster.

“He raped me.” I stared into Mark’s eyes, and suddenly a flood of tears poured out of me, like I’d burst an artery of despair.

I had to turn away as I convulsed in sobs, tears gushing out. Try as I might to suck back the overflow of anguish, I couldn’t. My body shuddered as I held onto the ledge and buried my face in one hand.

Not even after that detestable pretend father did the deed had I cried like this. From that day onwards, I bottled everything up, maintaining a stiff upper lip, as they always taught us English. For good reason, too, because tears made us weak.

I didn’t want to face Mark. I wanted to bury myself under a blanket. I’d never felt so naked before.

But face him, I did, and saw his face twisted in horror and disgust, blinding me with pity.

Silence amplified my choking sobs, placing a wedge between us, and I felt alone.

After a long, tense gap, I wiped my nose and glared at the bewilderment frozen on his face. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

He showed his palms. “I’m just speechless. What an evil cunt.” He bit his lip. “Sorry for being crass. But Caroline, I’m sorry.”

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