Gabrielle woke with a jolt, the morning light blinding her as she slowly sat up.
She looked around. She had slept on the floor, she realized. She sighed.
She rubbed her aching temples with her palms, crossing her legs. It was only now that she realized someone had covered her exhausted body with a soft duvet.
Her mind shot to Edward— could he? She suddenly shook her head as memories of last night assaulted her senses.
He could never. Her heart lurched; had she dreamed up his cruelty?
She peeled the duvet off herself and slowly stood up. Forgetting her dress was open, it slid off her body.
The morning cold whipped at her naked skin, leaving goosebumps around her body.
She stood there for what she thought was ten minutes, just staring into the vanity mirror.
Her eyes traced her bruised lip, her tears streaked face, her neck— her face contorted as sobs rolled from her.
He'd marked her. Her hand covered her mouth to keep from screaming, as she curled over, letting the tears fall.
Her lips burned as the salty liquid that leaked from her eyes flowed over them. She winced, her sobs subsiding.
Standing straight, she stared once more at her reflection. Her fingers touched injured flesh, examining it. She hissed.
The hickey was all shades of purple. Looking over to the mini cabinet beside the bed, which housed her makeup, her eyes found a brown envelope sitting on the surface.
She didn't remember anything being there; confusion etched her features as she walked over.
Picking up the envelope, she opened it, sliding the contents out.
Her gaze swept over the bound document. Her eyes widened as she mouthed," Parenting Agreement."
Her pulse took on a new beat at the weight of what she held.
Her hand found the bed as she sat down. She swallowed, then began reading.
As she read, anger bubbled within her; her brows creased from the sheer audacity of the man. But with that anger came genuine fear.
He wanted her in the house at all times; she had to get his permission to leave the estate. Her only role here was being Emilia's mother and representing him as his partner at functions.
She was not to have relations with other men while she stayed here.
She paused. They were not together; why was this even here?
She continued, squinting her eyes at the words as if to make them make sense."You are to report weekly on your activities and spending on both Emilia and yourself," she read out quietly.
One brow arched. Spending? Realization hitting. Was he going to give her money?
Nervously, she scanned through the pages, looking for the part where he stated he would give her anything. Exhilaration replacing her anger and her fear.
"Ah!" she shouted, pointing at the clause. She found it.
"The sum of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars will be allocated to you per month…" she read, jumping instantly as joy filled her.
Her breathing hitched. She had done it.
Her mind slipped to her mother, and her heart warmed.
"Mum," she whispered, her hands trembling against the crisp white paper." You finally have a fighting chance."
When her emotions settled, she continued reading. All the horrible words that played in front of her couldn't dull the excitement she held.
Her spine straightened with determination.
Finding her bag, she stuffed it with the documents. She was going to have to speak with Edward to renegotiate some of these preposterous terms.
With her newfound dedication, she stepped into the shower, bathed, and got dressed.
One more thing remained. She grabbed her concealer and lipstick from the cabinet, slowly walking to the vanity mirror.
She dabbed her violet neck with the thick cream, layering and blending, a silent prayer in her head.
The purple hue still shone through. defeated, she shifted her attention to her bruised lip. Applying the red lipstick over it, she winced. It stung.
Dabbing her lips together, she inspected the coverage in the mirror. She nodded, satisfied. It worked.
She sighed: the only thing left was her neck. She stared at it, her face still puffy from her earlier crying.
She couldn't go down for breakfast. She couldn't let her daughter see her like this, like some wounded animal.
Her eyes darkened. Or Edward's viper of a mother, either.
Gabrielle picked up a scarf, wrapping it around her neck, then she opted for sunglasses for her puffy eyes.
Yes, this would work.
She stepped out.
In the hallway of the Harrington mansion, shoulders curled in, she walked swiftly down the stairs.
Fidgeting and nervous, her head darted around, hoping she wouldn't run into anyone.
Her shoes clicked in the empty halls as she made her way to his study.
At the door, she paused, taking in a deep breath. "I can do this," she muttered under her breath and knocked.
She waited for a response, but none came. She knocked again, longer and louder this time.
Still, nothing.
With shaking hands, she tested the handle, peeking her head through. She let out a breath— It was empty. Her shaky breathing calmed.
The air here was pungent with his scent. Suddenly feeling suffocated, she left, her hands tightening on her bag as her confidence from earlier faltered.
Making her way to the main door, she slipped out.
The morning sun hit her, warm and unapologetic. She took a deep breath, taking in the view. Spotting a garden, she walked toward it, her head down.
Lifting her head, she saw a figure sitting on the stone bench. His back was to her, his dark brown hair moving with the morning breeze. He was engaged, his nose in a book; as if sensing her, he turned around.
Adrian.
Gabrielle stopped, her heart lurching. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered the last time their eyes had met— her sprawled body on the marble floors of her room.
Her hands darted to her scarf as if he hadn't seen enough already.
His gaze followed her hands, and his eyes darkened.