Chapter 123 The revelation (1)

Chapter 123 The revelation (1)
Genevieve
The silence in the room was a heavy weight, broken only by the sound of my father's ragged breathing. I scrambled back, my knees hitting the floor, my hands trembling as I tried to scrape up what was left of my dignity. I tried to gather my clothes, but they were strewn across the floor in different directions. My panties were kicked far away. I weighed the option of crawling toward it and just staying put, and realized crawling was far more humiliating.
So I pulled my knees tighter and shielded my breasts with my hands. I looked at him, waiting for the explosion, for the rage that would surely end us both. I was officially dead, like cold in the morgue dead. I could see my life disappear in front of me.
I stole a glance at Uncle Artie, if I was having it worse, his was definitely going to be worse. There was no way in hell my dad would spare him. And yet when I looked at him, he had that same blank, unbothered expression he had had on his face when he told me he would handle Marcus.
I turned to look at my father, and his face began to contort. The shocked look on his face drained away, and he let out a slow, hollow laughter that vibrated in his chest. It was a manic, terrifying sound.
I felt chills to the bones. I had finally driven my father to madness.
This was a scene straight out of my nightmares. To make it worse, we had a company full of an audience, any of whom could walk in and see me butt naked with my uncle and father in the room. There was no explaining this away. I could picture the scandalous headlines that would be printed by night.
I bowed my head to the ground. "Daddy, please," I sobbed, "I can ex-explain. I don't know—I, i—" the words were tumbling out in a frantic, incoherent rush. "I can explain—it's not what it looks like. Daddy, I didn't want this. I was in a fix. He has a video, he's been blackmailing me, he forced me to come here, he—"
"You're rather good at this, aren't you?" Richard cut me off. His voice wasn't loud; it was flat, but there was no denying the apparent disgust. "Sucking cock. Is that what they taught you at that club?"
My jaw turned slack.
"Oh, let me guess, you learnt this from one of your sleazy boyfriends? Or do you suck cock for money like a cheap whore, because you've certainly mastered the technique."
The words hit me harder than a physical blow. I flinched, a fresh wave of tears blurring my vision. "No, Dad, please, he trapped me—" I shook my head hard, "Daddy, you can't say that. You can't…" my voice broke.
"Don't stop on my account," he sneered, leaning against the doorframe as he watched me tremble. "Please, continue. Uncle Artie is waiting for his thank-you, isn't he? Don't let me interrupt the performance. He seemed to be rather enjoying it."
As if to confirm it, Uncle Artie's dick stirred, pre-cum leaking out. 
I shook my head, my chest heaving as I doubled over on the rug, and tears trickled down my cheeks until I could taste the salty tears. "Stop it. Please, stop." I shook my head in disbelief. What dystopian hell had I woken up from? What was my father saying? And Uncle Artie still had the nerve to be hard in this situation.
"Suck him off, Genevieve!" He barked suddenly, causing me to shudder.
"You heard your father, Gen," Uncle Artie spoke his first words since this nightmare began. "Suck me off, Gen."
I furrowed my brows. No, it couldn't be possible. I literally pinched myself, and yet I stayed rooted in this awful dream. I shook my head, "No, Daddy…"
"Oh, for fuck's sakes! Get rid of the innocent act and suck him off. You were enjoying it only moments ago."
I glanced at the door. Maybe someone walking in would be my saving grace.
Uncle Artie cupped my cheeks and pulled me close so my face was only inches away from his dick. "Look at me, Gen. Do as he says…"
"Wh—"
He thrust into my mouth, drowning out my words. I was too stunned to react. But Uncle Artie didn't even need me to. His hips bucked wildly as he fucked my mouth. His loud grunts and strains were the only sounds that filled the room. 
His body shook as he came into my mouth, with no iota of care in the world, like we didn't have an audience, my own father!"
When he pulled away, he covered my mouth with his hands to make sure I swallowed.
"Pathetic whore!" My father spat, his words dripping with disgust.
Uncle Artie rose to his feet and fixed his pants. 
"You think he took that video to hurt us, Gen?" Richard's laughter died; his voice was icy cold. He stepped further into the room, looking down at me like I was something he'd found on the bottom of his shoe. "I'm the one who gave him the key to the club's back door. I needed the bridge loan, and you were the only asset he'd accept."
The world tilted. I looked from my father's sneering face to Arthur, who was standing by the desk, perfectly composed. He wasn't even looking at Richard. He was looking at me. The "Uncle Artie" persona, the mentorship, the secret, his kindness, father's ignorance—it was all a curated lie supported by both of them. My entire life hadn't been a series of choices; it had been a long-term scam. I had been traded before I even knew I was on the market.
"When he told me he wanted you, I told him there wasn't any way I could give you to him. I mean, you were my daughter, but I didn't own you. I couldn't just make you go fuck my best friend." He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed exasperatedly. "He was going to try anyway, and I said, ' Good luck, ' I didn't even trust his chances! Yet somehow, all it took was six months. Six months and you agreed to fuck a man, you had looked up to as a father!"
I visibly flinched.
Arthur moved then. He didn't look at my father. He walked past me with a predatory gait and calmly closed the office door. I heard the click of the lock, sealing the three of us inside and shutting out the rest of the world. He walked back to his desk and laid a single document on the table: The Succession Agreement.
"What is this?" I breathed, my voice barely audible.
"The end of the Jacobson name," Arthur said. He looked at Richard, then back at me. "Your father hasn't just been losing money, Genevieve. He's been selling the estate bit by bit for years to cover a decades-old embezzlement scandal. A debt that he can't pay back."
My father didn't deny it. He just stood there, looking at the floor, his bravado vanishing the moment Arthur spoke.
"Here is the ultimatum," Arthur continued, his voice dropping into that dangerous, steady baritone. "If you walk away now, I will release the audit trails and the evidence of the fraud. Your father goes to prison for the rest of his life, and the Jacobson legacy is dragged through the mud until there's nothing left but ash."
He tapped the paper on the desk.
"Or, you sign this. You become my legal ward and my sole heir. You leave this office as my ward, effectively erasing your identity as a Jacobson. You belong to my estate, and in exchange, your father's crimes stay in this room."
I looked at the document, then at the man who had sold me, and finally at the man who had bought me. There was no escape. The cage hadn't been built last night; it had been under construction my entire life.
"Sign it," Richard muttered, not even looking at me. "Gen, you have to sign it."
I looked at Arthur. He wasn't smiling. He was just waiting.
"Sign the paper, Genevieve," Arthur commanded, a small smirk on his lips. "And let's finish what we started."