Chapter 9
The guard, embarrassed by his own fear, reached down to grab Gisele again. Get up!
He grabbed the back of her dress. He pulled.
The silk was delicate. It wasn't made for violence. Riiip.
The sound was sickening. The back of the dress split from the neck down to the small of her back. The fabric fell away.
The crowd went silent. Even the photographers stopped clicking for a second.
Gisele's back was exposed to the cool night air and the harsh lights.
It was a map of pain.
Silver lines. Old welts. The pale, jagged ridges of healed lacerations that crisscrossed her spine.
Evander stared. His mouth opened. He had never seen her back. She always turned the lights off. She always wore t-shirts to bed. He thought she was shy.
He stepped closer, his eyes horrified. Gisele... what is that?
Daneen made a noise-a squeak of terror. She knew those marks. The riding crop. The years of "discipline" in the basement while Evander was away at boarding school.
The cameras started clicking again. Furiously. This was the shot of the decade. The mutilated beauty.
Gisele felt the air on her skin. Shame washed over her, hot and suffocating. She tried to cover herself with her arms, curling into a ball.
That's... that's self-harm! Daneen shouted, her voice shrill. She does it to herself! She's sick!
Evander looked at Daneen. For the first time, doubt flickered in his eyes. But Daneen clutched his hand, her nails digging into his palm. Evander, my heart... I can't breathe... If you let them believe this, the stress will kill me. You know the doctor said I'm fragile.
Evander looked at the board members watching. He looked at the stock price ticker on the screen. He looked at Daneen's pale, pleading face.
He took off his jacket. He walked toward Gisele. Cover up, he muttered. You're embarrassing yourself.
He wasn't offering comfort. He was offering concealment.
Gisele slapped his hand away. Don't touch me!
Evander recoiled.
Farrell moved. He was there in an instant. He took off his heavy trench coat. He didn't throw it at her. He knelt down. He wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling the lapels tight to cover every inch of her skin. The coat was warm. It smelled of tobacco and rain.
He helped her stand. His arm went around her waist, supporting her weight. He turned her away from the cameras, shielding her body with his own.
Who did this? Farrell asked. His voice was a low rumble against her ear.
Gisele looked at Daneen. Daneen was trembling, hiding behind Evander.
Farrell followed her gaze. He looked at Evander. He looked at Daneen. His eyes were black voids.
I see, Farrell said.
Evander stepped forward, trying to regain control. Mr. Pennington. This is a private family matter. Please step aside.
Farrell laughed. It was a terrifying sound. You lost the right to call her family when you let your dogs rip her clothes off.
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