“You don’t deserve that.” Camila’s eyes are on mine. “You don’t deserve any of his lies. You deserve the truth. Everyone deserves to know the truth.”
The truth? What is the truth? I can’t even begin to grasp it. Even if I figure out how my life became this way, all my revelations have vanished by tomorrow. Maybe I discovered the truth last week or the week before. And I’ve just forgotten it. And if I discover it today, I’ll just forget it again. It’s like I’m in some sort of repeating hell.
“Tess.” Camila’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “I have something for you.”
I realize she’s holding out her hand. And in her palm is a small key.
“This opens the top drawer of the desk in Graham’s office.” She places the key down on the kitchen island in front of me. “Everything you need to know is in there. Go now. Quickly—while he’s changing.”
My mouth falls open. It hits me that the spilled soup wasn’t an accident at all. She did it on purpose so I would have a clear shot at Graham’s office while he’s changing.
“Camila…”
“Go,” she says. “I’m sick of these lies. You deserve the truth.”
I pick up the key from the table. I close my fingers around it. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I don’t know what is in his desk drawer. But she’s right. I’ve been searching for the truth. And this woman has literally handed me the key to everything I’ve been wanting to know.
I leave my bowl of soup behind and follow Graham’s footsteps up the stairs. But instead of going to the bedroom where he’s getting cleaned up and changed, I stop at the room before it. His office.
The door is ajar. He had been working there before lunch and probably planned to come back. I tap it open, taking in the sight of his large bookcase, the leather loveseat, and the mahogany desk.
I close the door behind me.
Graham’s desk is in the corner of the room. There are several drawers, all closed. I try them, one by one. They’re all filled with papers, probably related to the company. When I finally get to the top right drawer, it doesn’t open.
Then I notice it has a keyhole the same size as my little key.
Before I can fit my key into the lock, my phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out—the number I dialed this morning is flashing on the screen. It’s Harry. I don’t have much time, but I take the call anyway.
“Tess,” he gasps. “I… I just saw your father…”
“Hang on—there’s something I need to tell you.” I look down at the key in my sweaty hand. “Harry, Camila gave me the key to Graham’s desk drawer. She said there’s something in there I need to see. So I’m up in his office while he’s changing.”
“Tess…” His voice is shaky and quiet. “Don’t open that drawer.”
“What?” Did I hear him correctly? “You don’t understand. Whatever he’s been keeping from me, it’s in this drawer. If he’s been drugging me or… look, I’ve got the key in my hand. I’m going to open it right now.”
“No. No. Look, can you just…” He sounds almost frantic now. “I’m driving over to your house right now. Can you wait? I’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Don’t open the drawer.”
“In ten minutes, he’ll have figured out I’m in here!” I hiss into the phone. “This is my only chance. What’s wrong with you?”
“Tess, please… I’m begging you… just wait…”
I let out a huff. “Forget it, Harry.”
Before he can protest again, I hang up the phone. I sense now that this is what I’ve been waiting for. For weeks—maybe months. The answer to my questions. The truth, like Camila said. Why is this happening to me? Why is Graham doing this to me? How do I get out of here? I’m going to get the answer, and this time I’m not going to forget it so easily. Never again.
I fit the small key into the lock of the drawer on Graham’s desk. But just before I can turn it, my hand trembles. I get a strange buzzing sensation in the back of my head, and all of a sudden, Graham’s office fades away to white. Then, gradually, another room comes into focus. It’s like I’ve been transported to somewhere different. Back down to the living room of my house.
Graham is at the front door, talking to somebody. He’s keeping his voice down, but the other person isn’t. The other person is shouting. As I step closer, I recognize the voice of the person standing outside our front door.
It’s my father.
“Let me in, Graham!” my father snaps at my husband. “This isn’t right!”
“I’m afraid this is a bad time,” Graham says in a maddeningly calm voice. “Tess is resting.”
“Bullshit!” I’ve never heard my father swear before—it’s shocking. “I can see her back there. Let me talk to her!”
“Douglas, you need to keep your voice down.”
I can just barely see my father’s face over Graham’s shoulder, through the crack in the open front door. His face is bright pink like he’s furious. “I want to see my daughter. Right. Now.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“This isn’t right!” My father’s voice is hoarse now. “Tess deserves to hear the truth. You can’t do this! You can’t keep her prisoner here like this!”
“I’m Tess’s husband and guardian,” Graham says calmly. “So I get to decide what I think is right for her. That’s not your job.”
“Tess!” My name sounds like an anguished cry on my father’s lips. “Tess! I need to talk to you!”
“I’m sorry, Douglas. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I open my mouth, wanting to yell out to my father that I’m here, that I want to talk to him. But no words come out. I feel frozen—paralyzed. My father is a stone’s throw away, and there’s nothing I can do. Graham is preparing to lock the door to our house, shutting me inside and…