Third Debt (Indebted #4)(19)
Author: Pepper Winters

I smiled smugly, stroking my collar as if it no longer heralded my death sentence but linked me to a man who belonged to me.

“No, I haven’t seen it.”

“Would you mind if you read some of it aloud, Ms. Weaver? Elaborate on a few key points?” George pointed at a Post-it note sticking from the pages. “I’ve bookmarked it for you.”

Flipping the magazine open, I gasped as the same model from the front smouldered in a centrefold. She wore a dress very similar to the feathered couture I paraded at the Milan show.

The title blazed in diamonds:

‘The Truth Behind the Weavers as told by Daphne Simons, Employee at Weaver Enterprises.’

“Do you know that employee?” Sylvie asked.

I looked up, shaking my head. “No. We hire too many people to know them all.”

The room turned silent as I skimmed the ridiculous article.

Nila Weaver, the daughter of the conglomerate company Weaver Enterprises has recently been spotted back in London after a stint outside the limelight. Gossip has spread over the past few weeks that her family are victims of an age-old dispute that defies all logic and rationality. A world where promises are kept and oaths are never broken. Her brother, Vaughn Weaver, recently broke his silence when his efforts to have his sister returned went unheeded.

Turning the tables on the leaked photographs depicting Ms. Weaver with a young man unknown at the time, and the rumour that she’d had a mental breakdown and run off with her mystery lover, the world was shocked to discover the man in the photographs wasn’t her lover, but her kidnapper.

How could they print such heresy?

Upon Nila Weaver’s return to London High Society, she’s been repeatedly asked to tell her story, but has remained silent on the matter. However, here at Elle, we have an exclusive interview with one of her employees.

Elle: Thank you for meeting with us, Daphne. Care to tell us what you know?

Daphne: Well, all I know is she returned to work last month. She’s always been rather quiet. Too work focused and always stumbling into things. But now, she’s even worse.

Elle: You mentioned she seems different? Can you elaborate?

Daphne: It’s common knowledge about the collar. She never takes it off. She’s constantly touching it. The staff room is a buzz with conspiracies that she suffers that problem when a captive falls for her kidnapper…you know what I mean?

Elle: You’re saying she’s in love with the man who collared her?

Daphne: Yep. For sure. My theory is the debt stuff is just a cover up. I reckon she’s into that freaky business…you know like S&M? Not to mention the diamond collar is an obvious ode to belonging to a master when in those types of relationships. She’s changed.

Elle: How do you mean?

Daphne: Well… she used to be sweet, shy. It’s a family company, so we see the Weavers interact a lot. But now she’s shut down around her brother. Her love for the industry has gone.

Elle: And you believe this is due to a Sadomasochistic relationship?

Daphne: I believe she’s changed too much to fit in anymore. Mark my words. She won’t be in London long.

And there you have it; our very own textile heiress has returned bearing a collar, bruises, and a history of intolerable cruelty. I suppose we won’t get answers or know the full story until justice has been served.

“So, tell us,” George said. “Is any of that true? Are you in an S&M relationship?”

Jethro sat taller, chuckling under his breath. “You honestly expect us to answer questions about our sex life?”

Sylvie laughed. “Sorry if it sounds like we’re prying, but our readers love to know that stuff.”

Stroking my collar, I smiled coyly. “All your readers need to know is Jethro completes me both in and out of the bedroom.”

George laughed, slapping his thigh. “Now, that’s a politically correct reply, if I ever heard one.”

Jethro reclined, spreading his arm over the back of the loveseat. “The rumours about death and debts are complete lies. However, some parts are indeed true.”

I didn’t know how he did it, but in a few short sentences, he’d enraptured George and Sylvie.

“Oh, how so?”

“People no longer accept the idea of arranged marriages. They like to think we’re all free to do what we like, when we like, but realistically, we are all still governed by class, income, our family tree.” He ran a hand through his hair. “My family has known the Weavers for six hundred years. We’ve effectively grown up together, crossing paths and healing feuds, and ultimately agreeing to come together to form a strong alliance.”

George frowned. “So you’re saying this so-called Debt Inheritance is what? A marriage contract?”

Jethro shook his head. “Not quite. It’s an agreement of debts between two houses that strive to support each other with payments in different forms throughout the years.”

I blinked stupidly, unable to believe the way Jethro spun three weeks of rumours. It made people seem ridiculous—clutching at straws and jumping onto a witch-hunt they knew nothing about.

He sounded so reasonable, so justifiable.

His speech was too perfect not to be scripted…perhaps by Bonnie.

Bonnie.

Did she tell Jethro to come and collect me, or was she against this development? After all, she’d kicked me out. She was the one who wanted me gone.

“And you, Ms. Weaver. That’s how your family sees this Debt Inheritance, too?” George pinned his baby-blues on me.

“Yes, of course. What else could it be? To think that one family owns another is completely ludicrous. We support one another. Sure, at times there’s some unrest and rivalry, but for the most part, we’re one big happy family.”

Maids arrived with fresh tea and a three-tier cake stand with cucumber sandwiches and éclairs.

George grabbed one, jotting down a few notes. “So really…it’s the age-old ‘mountain out of a mole hill’ kinda thing.”

Jethro crossed his ankles, ignoring the finger food. “Yes. Not that it’s anyone’s business, but our two influential families have always prospered by linking our history. It’s such a shame that after centuries of friendship, it’s come down to Mr. Weaver spreading such terrible lies.”

I sucked in a breath. I wanted to tell the truth but what good would it do? Would it stop the Hawks from breaking countless laws—would it save my life?

Vaughn had told the world, yet even with so much gossip, it was still his word against the Hawks. And they sounded so much more believable than him. A sure way to disband the Twitter posters and bury old Facebook shout-outs under new intrigue.

George swallowed a bite of cucumber sandwich. “Are you happy to be back? After the time away?”

This was it. My turn to lie as spectacularly as Jethro.

Swooning into Jethro’s side, I snuggled against his chest and sighed dramatically. “Oh, yes. Every night we messaged each other. And every night we professed our belonging and knowledge that we wouldn’t let lies come between us.”

Jethro stiffened then slowly wrapped an icy arm around my shoulders.

My body trembled with the need to be hugged—for real. Having the weight of his body cloaking mine did nothing to ease the inconsolable pain inside my heart.

I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me.

I wanted him to wake up!

But how?

Then suddenly, I knew exactly how. How to get back at him for what he’d done to me. How to announce to Cut that his plan to steal my right to bear children wouldn’t come without consequences.

Placing my hand on Jethro’s chest, I sought out the flat-line and uninterested beat of his heart. “It was agony being apart.” Dropping my voice to a breathy whisper, I said, “I was so homesick for Jethro; I threw up almost every day.”

Jethro’s heart remained steady and unaffected.

Try ignoring this, you monster.

“But it turned out I was throwing up because I was pregnant.”

Jethro’s heart screeched to a stop. He went deathly still.

George clapped. “Oh, that’s wonderful! So if the Debt Inheritance is kind of like a marriage contract, then they have to let it take place now that you’re carrying!”

I swallowed my morbid giggle.

You want them to cut off my head?

If only they knew what it meant.

“That’s amazing. I call first dibs on coming to the wedding and baby shower!” Sylvie laughed.

Jethro never looked at me; his gaze remained locked on the other end of the room. He struggled to plant a smile on his face, nodding at the ecstatic interviewers. “Yes…it was quite a surprise. But of course…a welcome one.”

Letting tears spring to my eyes, I murmured, “I was so happy. I couldn’t wait to start our family and create something that was just ours. But…” I played up the hitch in my voice.

Sylvie leaned forward. “What—what happened?”

Jethro tightened his arm around me. “Yes, Nila. What happened?” His voice was whip-sharp.

George passed me his handkerchief. I accepted it, dabbing my dry eyes. “I lost the baby!” I sniffed loudly, making sure I sounded extra pitiful. “The stress of all the rumours made me sick, and I lost the best thing that could’ve ever happened to us.”