Genevieve

Walking through the hidden room behind the bookshelf was nothing short of humiliating. I hadn’t signed the papers. I couldn’t. I just stood there, staring at the ink as if it were blood.

Arthur didn’t push. Instead, he reached for a leather-bound book on the shelf, pulled a lever, and the wall groaned loudly and opened. “I have more to show you, Genevieve.”

I was still naked. Goosebumps erupted over my skin from more than just the cold in the room. Uncle Artie held my arm, his grip firm and possessive, while my father trailed behind us. Every time I tried to fold my arms over my chest, Arthur’s...