The Truth He Never Wanted

I lowered my eyes, struggling to find the words. Even thinking about what had happened in Mr Oliver’s study made my stomach tighten, and having Arthur stand in front of me, waiting for an answer, only made it harder. I had spent days trying to put the incident behind me, but the memory had followed me into every room of the estate.

“He called me to his study that afternoon,” I finally said. “At first, he wanted to talk about the marriage and the problems you said I was causing. Then he started making comments about my appearance. How the dress clung. How I looked when I bent over. I told him I wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t let me.”

Arthur’s expression changed. “What do you mean he wouldn’t let you?”

“He grabbed my wrist when I tried to walk out. When I pulled away, he dragged me back towards the desk and shoved me against it so hard the edge dug into my hips. His hands moved over my body despite my attempts to push him away. He touched my breast and thigh, then kissed my cheek and jaw when I turned my face from him. I told him to stop. I tried to fight him off, and I had to kick and claw my way out of that room.”

For several seconds, Arthur didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on my face, as though he were trying to decide whether he had heard me correctly.

“Are you telling me my father assaulted you?”

“I’m telling you what he did.”

He turned away, his jaw tightening as he walked towards the window. I watched him, unable to understand what was going through his mind. I had expected anger, perhaps even disbelief, but his silence was making me increasingly uncomfortable.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“The afternoon he visited the estate.”

“And you said nothing?”

I stared at his back before answering. “Who was I supposed to tell?”

“Your husband, Sophie.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “You expect me to come to you with something like that when you’ve never given me a reason to believe you’d protect me? You accuse me whenever you find something you don’t like, search through my belongings, and make decisions about my life without asking what I want. How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t blame me for what your father did? That you wouldn’t say I was asking for it?”

Arthur turned towards me, his expression hardening. “I would never have blamed you for what he did.”

“You’ve made me feel like everything that happens in this house is somehow my fault. I didn’t know what you would do, and I wasn’t willing to risk making things worse.”

His gaze dropped to my wrist, where the bruises were still visible beneath the sleeve of my dress. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

“I managed to get away before he could put his cock in me. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

Arthur looked away, rubbing his jaw. I could tell he was angry, but I had no idea whether he was thinking about his father, Julian, or the fact that I had reached out to another man for help.

“Does Alexander Kane know about this?”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“I asked you a question.”

“I asked him for help because I couldn’t remain here. That’s why I sent the letter. I wasn’t trying to cause trouble between you and your family.”

“You should have come to me.”

“I just explained why I couldn’t.”

Arthur’s expression darkened, but he said nothing for a moment. Then he moved towards the door, his shoulders rigid.

“Stay in your room. I will deal with this.”

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but the words remained in my throat. He left without offering another explanation, and I heard his footsteps retreat down the corridor.

I stood where he had left me, wondering what would happen when he confronted his father. Even if Arthur believed every word I had said, I couldn’t imagine that one conversation would change the way his family treated me. Mr Oliver had assaulted me, Julian had attacked me, and both men had behaved as though my objections meant nothing. I had no reason to believe that Arthur’s anger would suddenly make the estate safe.

My attention shifted to the small bag beneath the bed. I had been quietly gathering the things I would need whenever I found a chance to leave, keeping them out of sight until I was ready. The letter to Alexander was the first step towards making that possible. I couldn’t allow Arthur’s reaction to distract me from the only chance I had been given.

I pulled the bag out and checked its contents. There were a few clothes, my personal documents, the little money I had saved, and the sketchbook I couldn’t bring myself to leave behind. I also slipped the folded page containing my written account of Julian’s assault into an inside pocket. My phone was charged, and the photographs of my injuries were still saved where I had placed them.

The box of drawing materials remained beneath the bed. I looked at it for a long moment, remembering how excited I had been when it arrived. Those pencils and paints had given me a reason to look forward to something beyond the next argument or humiliation. I wanted to take them with me, but carrying the entire box would make it harder to leave unnoticed. Instead, I placed a few pencils inside my bag and closed it.

As the house grew quieter, I sat on the edge of the bed, listening for movement outside my door. Arthur hadn’t returned, and I had no idea whether he had confronted his father or found Julian. I checked the time several times, waiting until it was nearly two in the morning before lifting my bag and slipping into the corridor.

The downstairs hallway was empty. I made my way through it carefully, avoiding the main entrance before using the side door that opened towards the garden. The night air was cooler than I expected, and I pulled my cardigan closer as I followed the path towards the trees near the far end of the property.

I spotted Alexander beside the low stone wall, standing where the garden was partly hidden from the house. He turned when he heard my footsteps, and his expression changed as soon as he saw me.

“Sophie.”

He approached, but his eyes had already settled on my face and the bruises visible around my wrist. “What happened to you?”

I adjusted the strap of my bag, suddenly aware of how difficult it was to explain everything aloud. “Julian found out about the letter. He saw me give it to the maid and wanted to know who I had contacted. When I refused to tell him, he dragged me into one of the storage rooms and attacked me. He forced me against the shelves, covered my mouth, and then pinned me down on the worktable. He pushed his knee between my legs and gripped my hip while threatening me. I fought him until I found an opportunity to get away.”

Alexander’s expression tightened. “Did you manage to get away?”

“I got out before he could catch me again.” I looked down at my wrist. “He hurt me, but I managed to escape.”

“Is that why you asked me to come?”

“Yes, but he’s not the only one.” I hesitated before continuing. “Arthur’s father assaulted me too. It happened a few days ago, and I didn’t tell anyone until tonight. Arthur knows now, but I don’t know what he’ll do about it.”

Alexander listened without interrupting. His gaze moved briefly towards the house before returning to me, and I noticed how carefully he avoided touching the injured parts of my arm.

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that,” he said.

I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “I can’t stay there anymore. I don’t know what will happen when Arthur confronts his father, and I don’t want to find out what Julian will do if he discovers I’m still trying to leave.”

“Then we should get you somewhere safe.”

I looked at him, uncertain what to expect. “Where will you take me?”

“I have somewhere you can stay. You can rest there, and once you’ve had time to think, we can discuss what you want to do next.” He glanced at the bag on my shoulder. “Is that everything you need?”

“It’s all I could take without attracting attention. I have my documents and a little money.”

“Good. We shouldn’t spend too much time here.”

I studied his face, still aware that I didn’t know him well enough to understand everything about him. He had noticed my drawings at the estate and offered to help me when he barely knew me. Now he was standing close enough for me to feel his presence in the cool night air, his attention fixed on me as though he wanted to make sure I was all right.

Alexander’s hand lifted. For a second I thought he meant to take the bag. Instead, his fingers gently closed around my other hand, careful not to touch the bruises on my wrist.

“You’re shaking,” he said, his voice low. “Come with me. Right now. Before either of them realises you’re gone.”

I opened my mouth to answer.

The side door slammed open behind us.

Arthur’s voice cut through the dark, sharp and furious.

“Sophie. Step away from him.”

I froze. Alexander’s grip tightened around my hand. Neither of us moved.