For two days after the ‘date’ I sat alone in the attic. Rather than going completely and utterly insane – my mind was spinning through different possibilities. Each time Alora delivered my meals, I contemplated slipping past her and running through the mansion. Each time I hesitated. She was the only one who showed me an ounce of kindness and I didn’t know what would happen to her if I left.

The decision was an impossible one. On the third day, two new maids entered my musty prison. They commanded me to follow them to meet the Duke. We walked down the flights of stairs – each step making my stomach tighten. I already knew what he wanted to discuss.

When we reached the door, the maids knocked politely.

“Your Grace, we have brought Kyla.” One of them said meekly.

“Allow her in.” The Duke’s voice floated muffled from the room.

They pushed the doors open, and shoved me neatly inside.

“Take a seat.” The Duke removed his glasses, pointing with them toward the sofa.

Why even tell me to sit? I moved forward and sat down without a word.

He set his glasses down, tapping a paper before him. “I have received word from Justin Blain.” He began, voice devoid of any warmth. “He requests your relocation to his home.”

You don’t say. I rolled my eyes. What was the point in summoning me?

“You will leave tomorrow morning.”

“What?” I snapped my head toward him, feeling my heart skip a beat. Already? Didn’t he say a week?

“Watch your tone.” The Duke snapped, raising a glass to his lips. “What belongings you have are already packed. Of course, house Blain will supply you with anything necessary once you arrive.”

“I spoke with Lord Justin about this previously.” I said, matching his cold tone. “He informed me that I would have a week.”

“Plans have changed.” He set down his cup with a click. “You will be leaving, as I already said, tomorrow morning. Summoning you was a courtesy you do not deserve. However,” he cleared his throat. “You will mind your behavior while there. Everything you do, until your wedding, will reflect upon House Thornevale.”

“Leaving tomorrow is too soon.” I bit out, rage squeezing my chest. “Why am I being forced to go so soon?”

“Why must I repeat myself to you every time we speak?” He sighed, leaning back. The chair creaked under his weight.

If only it would break under him.

“I have the right to know-”

“Rights?” The Duke snapped. “You’re under some delusion if you truly believe you have rights. The decision is final. You may leave.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” I demanded, jumping to my feet. “Do you think I wanted to be born your bastard child?”

I turned on my heel, slamming my hands against his desk. “I had no say in you deciding to get naked with the woman who gave birth to me. Is it too difficult for you to consider treating me like a god damn person?”

Whether the words were my own or a lingering pain from the original Kyla – I couldn’t say. I only knew that his maltreatment was leaving a smoldering rage in its wake.

“Watch your tone.” The Duke snapped, eyes flashing. “Did you not learn your lesson last time?”

“Go ahead.” I laughed darkly, stepping back. “Take your anger out on me. Hit me again. But you won’t. You can’t not with you selling me off to Justin Blain tomorrow.”

“Get out of my office.” He stood up, eyes shooting daggers at me. “Your very existence is vile.”

“I only reflect what’s given to me.” I ground out. “I’m your daughter and yet you treat me like-”

“You are not my daughter.” The duke bellowed, crossing around the desk. “You’re nothing to me other than a mistake from my youth.” He jabbed a finger into my chest.

“That’s your own mistake!” I threw my hands up – face heating. “Not mine.”

“Jacob, Travis.” The Duke turned his head, barking at the door. “Take this thing back to the attic.”

The door burst open and two angry guards walked inside. They walked over to me wordlessly – each grabbing one of my arms.

“The past always comes back father.” I spat digging my heels in as they started to pull me away. “You think sending me away is going to absolve you of your sins?” I laughed darkly. “You’re nothing but a pathetic man who couldn’t control his lust.”

“Hold on a moment.” The Duke snapped as we reached the door. The guards obeyed instantly – making me wobble backwards. He briskly walked toward me – smacking me across the face. “May your own fate be better than that of his previous wives.”

That prick. I narrowed my eyes at him. He knew for sure and yet he still… No words could articulate the seething hatred that filled my body. This man is a monster.

“Take her.” He commended turning and walking back to his desk. “I do hope Lord Justin can break you.” He tossed over his shoulder as the door began to close between us. “Gods know I tried.”

The guards tugged me down the halls, their grip increasingly becoming more painful. However, I barely felt it. The raw anger was still waging war within me – and I wanted nothing more than to walk back into the office and hit the man over the head with a blunt object.

When we reached the attic, the guards pushed me inside and slammed the door between us. I stomped up the stairs and walked toward the covered objects, tugging off the fabric.

There has to be something I can use to get the hell out of here. I thought, moving quickly through the small space.

Most of the items were old pieces of furniture that were too bulky to be of any use. Others were chests full of old dresses and random nicknacks.

How useless. I walked to the final covering and yanked it off. A framed painting of the Duke, a woman who had to have been his late wife, and a young Gerald – no more than four years old looked out at me. They looked disgustingly happy. The perfect family.

Why is this hidden up here? I shrugged, deciding I didn’t care.

I raised my foot and kicked it through the location the Duke had been standing.

How childish. I sighed, walking toward the wall and sinking to the floor. I ran my hands down my face and closed my eyes briefly. Is Kyla’s anger affecting me this much? I never acted like this before becoming her.

“It doesn’t matter.” I murmured, opening my eyes and casting them to the small hole in the ceiling.

When Alora came by later – I knew what I had to do. I didn’t have the ability to worry about her job or her person. I had to worry about myself, even if that meant someone being caught in the crossfire.

I’m sorry Alora.

I’m out of options.