Chapter 131 A form of escape

Chapter 131 A form of escape
NANCY’S POV

Mr Hudson’s eyes flicked to me again, totally ignoring my dad, who was being all flattering and saying words to reassure him that I wouldn’t run away again, even though I had promised him something that was far different from that.

Maybe it wasn’t so different after all.

Like they said, death was still a form of escape. Maybe the only form of escape was if I intended to run away from not just my parents and the man with the wolffish stare who stood before me, but also my feelings.

“You’ve been crying.” He pointed out, as if my reddened and puffy eyes didn't make it obvious enough.

As much as I hated to say it, though, he did seem like the only observant eye in the room, since my dear parents had deigned to even mention it or try to figure out the reason for it.

A voice deep inside told me they did know. At least, the way my mom was looking at me with eyes deep-seated in guilt and remorse suggested that she did.

My Dad, not so much.

“I haven’t,” I snapped, for no reason other than the fact that I hated how weak admitting it would make me look.

And also because his saying that made me remember that he’d had me pinned to the wall a couple of hours ago, unable to move or stop him from plundering my body like a thief who’d finally chanced upon a treasure cove.

His smile widened slightly. In a way, it was meant to intimidate rather than ridicule.

“I see you still haven’t learnt your lesson.”

All the hairs on my body raised when he said that, more out of anger than fear, and my body trembled with the urge to close the distance between us and let my hands leave imprints on his face.

Now, however, I knew better than to actually do that when I didn’t know if I actually could without getting hit by him.

Also, something told me that my dad wouldn’t let me. I wasn’t sure how he was going to stop me, but I knew he would find a way to, and that made me hesitate.

As much as I hated my dad right now, I wasn’t about to let myself hit him or even attempt to.

“Hmm,” Dad cleared his throat, breaking the tense stare down between me and Mr Hudson.

“Sorry to ask you in this way, but you still haven’t told us why you called us here. I suppose it was for an important meeting.”

A cold laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

Of course, my dad didn’t count seeing his estranged daughter after months spent apart as important enough. Heck, he didn’t even see me as something he couldn’t part with.

To him, I was invaluable, and I had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to trade me for a piece of land in the heart of New Jersey.

Again, Mr Hudson didn’t respond to him. He walked over to me instead.

As he approached me, I forced myself to face him, refusing to retreat because that seemed like a show of vulnerability to me.

Locking my chin, I stayed where I was, unmoving.

When he reached me, he grabbed my chin and brushed his fingers over my skin, tilting my face upwards.

Afterwards, he kissed his teeth, baring his brown enamel in my face. “A pity.”

“I really didn't want to touch this pretty face of yours. But then again, these bruises suit you.”

His grin widened.

“Just think of them as my mark on you, a way to let everyone know you belong to me.”

Rage exploded in my chest, and I smacked his hand away, muttering angrily, “You’re sick.”

That was all it took.

The shift was instant. I didn’t even see his hands move before I felt it on my face.

I barely caught myself from how hard the force decentred me.

This slap, compared to the others from before, made my vision blur.

He took a step forward and grabbed my chin, yanking my face forward to whisper harshly, “Watch your tone.”

“Whilst I can tolerate your defiance, I won’t tolerate it before watching eyes.”

I wanted to remind him that the watching eyes were my own parents, who hadn’t moved to stop him even though he just slapped me right in front of them, but I bit the words back, opting for something even more cutting.

“What? Your ego can’t take it?”

His eyes flashed. He let my chin go, then swung his hand again, hitting me even harder than he did before.

“Mr Hudson!”

“That’s enough…” My parents stepped forward simultaneously, many steps too late.

Their intervention didn’t mean a whit to me now, not like it held any meaning before either.

To be honest, it kind of surprised me that my dad was willing to step in at all. Nor did I expect the worried glance he sent my way when Mr Hudson turned slowly.

I was trying to decipher if that was worry for him, or for himself, but he already looked away.

“Mr Hudson…” He repeated with way less confidence than he held when he was speaking to me earlier.

He pressed his lips together uncertainly, like he was weighing what he wanted to say.

I didn’t speak; no one did. It felt like we were all waiting for Hudson’s reaction.

The stare he gave my dad was hard, in a way that made me feel like he was short of hitting him, too.

The silence in the room stretched even longer, filled with anticipation.

Finally, he broke it.

“You should get her ready.”

My Dad, who’d lowered his head earlier, caving into his stare, finally whipped his head up.

“Get her ready?”

“Ready for what?” He swallowed almost nervously.

Mr Hudson stared at him for a moment, then turned around to face me. The anger in his eyes was gone, now filled with a thrilled and excited shine.

“I need her to look her best tonight.”