Chapter 23 I'm having the nicest dream about freshly baked cookies when I'm ripped back to consciousness. Pain shoots through me, jolting me awake, and through the dimly lit room, I spot two guards grabbing me. It feels like I'm reliving a nightmare from my past and I instinctively enter into fight-or-flight mode. 'What the hell are you doing?' I manage to croak out, a yelp following as my shin clips the metal frame of the bed. Neither of them respond. I'm dragged from the room, mind quickly becoming more alert as I take in my surroundings while attempting to deescalate my racing heart. From the hallway, I can see the sun starting to rise outside Lilydale, the first light of the day already tainted and ruined by flashbacks and SWAT wannabes. And of course, history repeats itself as I'm pulled painfully through the quiet corridors toward Whittingham's office. Besides the three of us, there's no other living beings in sight-not even Dr. Smith or Dr. Markel. One of the guards releases his hold on me, pushing open the office door to reveal Arthur Whittingham and Alexander Dale, dressed in their usual tailored suits. They both look at me casually, unbothered by my disheveled physique. 'Good morning, Avery,' Alexander greets coldly. 'I take it you slept well?' The tone of his voice indicates he couldn't give a shit whether I slept at all. Before I can think of a snarky reply, I'm forced into a nearby chair by the desk, rough hands pinning me down by the shoulders. I take a moment to survey the room, lips twitching with slight amusement at the bandage still on Whitface's hand from where I stabbed him with the pen. He scowls at me, flashing me a murderous look of rage. 'How's the hand?' I ask with a snort, any functions of a filter non-existent this early in the morning. 'Enough,' Alexander cuts me off, leaning against the desk. 'I'm not above having the doctors silence you, Avery.' 'Given you shot your own son on his birthday, I think there's very little you wouldn't do, Alexander.' He chuckles quietly to himself as he reflects back on the memory like the sick fuck he is. 'Is the transport ready?' I know he's not directing the question to me, but I can't resist chiming in, blood running cold. 'What transport?' 'Yes,' Whitface answers dryly. 'These two guards will accompany you and Ms. White.' 'What is going on?' I snap. Where the fuck are they taking me? Despite the attitude I was happy to give, I'm suddenly drowning with panic. The absence of my cell phone feels heavy and my fingers twitch, desperate to run to my room to call for help. But I know I'd never make it there. The chances of me even making it to the foyer are slim, let alone the issue of no access card. I'm in trouble. I can't let them take me out of Lilydale, especially not with this maniac. Fuck-were they planning on taking me to a paddock to shoot me? I wouldn't put it past them. Finally, Alexander acknowledges my question, a clearly beguiled expression on his face that reminds me of Damon. I think of all of the times in the past I thought Damon was ice-cold and heartless. But nothing compares or comes close to the monster standing before me. 'We're taking a little trip,' he says casually. 'But first-a change of attire.' He nods his head toward the guards. One steps away while the other tightens their hold on my shoulders, pressing down painfully. A bag is chucked into my lap, my eyes spotting bunched up fabric inside. 'Where are we going?' I ask firmly. 'Get changed,' Alexander answers, giving me a dismissive wave. 'Or if you're incapable of doing so, the guards will do it for you.' I'm given no time to respond, hands suddenly lifting me off the chair and ripping my clothes off. And when I say ripping, it's not an exaggeration. They shred the gray Lilydale pyjamas from my body, a cold chill shooting through me in more ways than one. Four sets of masculine eyes scan my body from various directions. Tears threaten to spill as I do my best to cover myself with my hands, absolutely hating that I'm vulnerable right now. Even more flashbacks appear, threatening to paralyze me with fear. I make the mistake of looking at Alexander. His cold, dead green eyes slowly hover over my body. It makes me want to tear my skin off and bathe in acid. 'Don't flatter yourself, Avery,' he says when he meets my eyes finally. 'I certainly can't see the appeal that my son does.' 'You're repugnant,' I spit out, quickly pulling the clothes out of the bag. Turning to face the guards-since it's the lesser of two evils-I swallow down bile as they stare at my chest. Hastily pulling on the clothing, I realize it's business attire-a black skirt that falls just above my knees and a lilac blouse that thankfully hides the fact I'm braless. A pair of ballet flats tumble onto the ground and I shove my feet in, ignoring the squeezing pressure from the too-small of a size. I nearly choke out a sob when a hand strokes my hair, flattening some rogue strands. Slapping it away, I send Alexander an angry, teary-eyed glare. 'Don't fucking touch me.' Smack. A gasp slips past my lips as I clutch my cheek in disbelief. My skin burns with disgust and pain, his stare still unfazed. 'You won't speak to me like that again,' he warns. 'Next time, I won't be gentle.' He hit me. He actually hit me. And has the nerve to call it gentle. I'd be willing to bet there's a scum-sized handprint on my cheek, forcing some color back into my face. This time, I have no witty reply or deadly glare to give back. He's slowly undoing months of healing and I can feel my body sinking back into that all too familiar survival mode-placid, submissive... timid. Exactly how I used to act around my father when I was walking on eggshells, scared of the next blow. 'Take her to the car,' he orders the guards without breaking eye contact. 'If she gives you any trouble, feel free to use whatever force necessary to ensure her compliance.' My body trembles with the threat, my mind shattering as I imagine just what the guards would like to do to make me fall into line. Their hands reach for me, dragging me by my elbows as I'm pulled toward the door. And for a brief second, I do something I'm not proud of-I look at Whitface with desperate, pleading eyes, hoping that perhaps he has a fraction of humanity after knowing and seeing the devastation that live within these walls. Of course, there's nothing in his vacant stare. He subconsciously clutches his bandaged hand, silently telling me to go fuck myself with a pleased tilt of his lips. My head drops in resignation and when we step outside Lilydale, I spot a black town car waiting. One guard opens the door while the other keeps a hold on me, the two of them sandwiching me in the middle of their large frames. I hate that they are touching me. It feels like I'm suffocating. I curl inwards in an attempt to make myself small, holding back tears as I threaten to spiral. They make small talk with each other while laughing, and when the door opens a few minutes later, I glance up with hope. Hope doesn't exist in Lilydale. I'm stupid to think that Damon could casually stroll out of the building to pull me out of the car. Alexander slides in across from us, sitting opposite me. He cocks an eyebrow at my discomfort, and when I glance away, I realize there's a driver climbing into the front of the car. 'Ready, Sir?' 'Yes,' Alexander answers, checking his cell. 'They will be arriving shortly.' As the car pulls away from the main building toward the large gates, it takes all of my willpower not to vomit. The further we get, the more I realize the growing danger. Months ago I'd have given anything to be away from Lilydale, to see the outside world again. Even the hospital was a nice change. Now, it feels like a death sentence. I may not come back. We join early morning traffic as commuters head into the city, skyscrapers coming into view. No one speaks in the car, and when we pull up outside a tall building full of glass windows, Alexander motions for the guards to exit. 'Avery,' he sneers. 'We're here to conduct business. I expect you to be on your best behavior.' I don't respond, sending a deadly glare in his direction. Clearing his throat, he unbuttons his jacket, opening one side. My breath catches in my throat as I spot a gun tucked inside his pocket. 'Good,' he says, taking note of my reaction. 'We have an understanding. Now, you'll be required to sign paperwork. If you even think of putting a pen through my hand, be rest assured I'll put a bullet in yours. The board is aware of your position and are just as displeased about the situation as I am.' The board? As in... the Lilydale Board? Alexander tilts his head toward the door. 'Out.' I slide along the seat, shivering as cold air hits me in the face. The two guards are waiting on the sidewalk for us, immediately stationing themselves on either side of me. Alexander walks ahead without glancing at us, and when I hesitate for a moment, I'm grabbed by the elbows. 'I can walk,' I hiss at them, quickly moving and freeing myself from their grasps. People bustle around the entrance, the monochrome and beige interior blending into the suits and briefcases. I must look the part, or some acceptable level, because no one bothers to glance at us. Even having guards on either side of me, there's no curious stares. Alexander signals for the elevators and just my luck, we manage to get the entire metal box to ourselves. Terrible music plays through the speakers as we rise. My eyes stay glued to the floor numbers, heart skipping a beat when we stop at forty-two. The doors open into a wide reception, the smell of cleaning chemicals leaving a sour taste on my tongue. A young receptionist sits at a desk in front of the elevators, her eyes widening in acknowledgment as she spots Alexander. 'Mr. Dale. They are ready for you in Conference Room Three.' 'Thank you, Evelyn.' I try to catch her eye-maybe to send an SOS. But she doesn't pay me any attention, returning to her computer as the phone rings. Fuck. I'm really in a world of trouble. Conference Room Three is pretty easy to find. Large printed font on glass doors acts as a countdown, and when we reach the third room overlooking the busy city below, a dozen eyes fall on us. The long table is filled all but for two seats, with Alexander at the head. He doesn't sit down straight away, gesturing for me to take a seat on his left. 'Ms. White,' he murmurs sternly, reverting back to formalities. A hand shoves me in my back, my feet stumbling as I move while every set of eyes watch me carefully. I sit down next to a middle aged man with short dark blond hair, his pale blue irises and thin lips sneering as if he's being punished by being sat next to me. 'Good Morning gentlemen,' Alexander greets loudly when I'm seated. 'Thank you for meeting me. We have some urgent business to attend to. But first, I'd like to take a moment to introduce you to someone special.' My stomach clenches painfully and for a split second, I consider running full speed at the glass windows to launch myself into the streets below. Anything to get away from this. Alexander steps behind me, his cold hand gracing my shoulder in an almost intimate touch. 'This is Avery White. The newest shareholder of our corporation. And my soon to be former daughter-in-law.'