Stealing Cinderella(68)

“Don’t forget your meeting at three,” he clips out, sounding as distracted as I feel. “For funeral arrangements.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I enter the house and drop my keys onto the table. “I’ll see you shortly.”

He disconnects the call, and I pocket my phone, glancing at the time. It’s already noon. When I left this morning at six, I didn’t expect to be gone this long, and guilt has been eating away at me all day. Ella is still strapped to the bed in the guest quarters, and I have yet to figure out what I want to do with her.

Last night, I was convinced I had no choice but to send her away. But all morning, while I met with various members of parliament, I considered every other alternative that meant she would stay. Each option was more ridiculous than the last. I could tie her up. Keep her locked in the guest room forever. Gag her so she couldn’t ever speak, and never make me believe her lies again.

But were they really lies? I had swung wildly from one certainty to the next. Of course, she was lying. Why wouldn’t she be? That’s all I’d ever known. But I’d convinced myself she was different. I’d let my guard down, only to be blindsided again.

As I approach her room, my decision still isn’t any clearer. The house is quiet, and Lisbet is on her afternoon break. But something feels off when I reach the door to Ella’s room and notice it’s cracked. I distinctly remember shutting it last night. But did I lock it?

I push it open, and half expect Ella to come flying at me with another lamp. But the room is silent and still. When I round the corner, and the bed comes into view, the whole world just fucking stops.

“Ella?” I try to blink away the sight before me. The bloody, beaten body of the woman I love.

Love.

I love her. The profound realization hits me like a brick to the head as I stumble forward, heart hammering against my rib cage. She’s so still, and I’m fucking terrified that I’m already too late. Her dead eyes are focused on the ceiling, and it takes me a minute to convince myself she even blinked.

When I get to her, I don’t know what to do. The sight is too horrific for words. It looks like she’s been slashed with a knife, her skin flayed open all over her body.

“Gudinne,” I choke out as I collapse onto the bed, crawling toward her. “Who did this to you?”

She doesn’t try to speak around the gag in her mouth, even after I remove it. She won’t even look at me as I force my trembling hands to release her restraints. It’s a painstakingly slow process because her wrists and ankles are just as raw and bloody as the rest of her. My sweet goddess fought for her life. She fought so hard it brings tears to my eyes as I try to figure out how the fuck I’m going to help her. I’m afraid to touch her, move her, but all I want to do is hold her.

“Ella.” My fingers ghost over her chin, tilting her gaze toward me. She blinks but doesn’t acknowledge me. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

Nothing. She stares through me, eyes blank.

I reach for my phone and struggle through my contacts, seeking out the name of my personal doctor. He answers without delay, and I issue my instructions to him with a clogged throat.

“Are you okay, Thorsen?” he asks before I hang up the phone.

“Just come quickly.”

Another beat passes, and I take Ella’s hand in mine. It’s all I can do for her right now. I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my entire life. The seconds drag by, and then long minutes until finally, Dr. Hansen alerts me he’s outside. I tell him the door is open and meet him in the hall.

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

“No.” I nearly fucking lose it. “I’m not. But this isn’t about me.”

He follows me down the hall and into Ella’s room, and when he sees her, the color drains from his face.

“Oh, Thorsen. This is bad.”





After carefully relocating Ella to the clean sheets on my bed, it takes Dr. Hansen and his two-nurse team three long hours to clean her up and dress her wounds. She had multiple lacerations that required stitches, including the one on her face. Throughout the entire process, I felt the doctor watching me as he asked her what happened. But she refused to engage with him either.

“She is traumatized,” he tells me in the hall. “I have already called for Dr. Blom. He’s on his way. But there is a good chance she may not speak at all for a while. She needs to rest.”

“What can I do for her?”

“Right now, you just need to give it time. My nurse will stay here and report to me on her progress. Dr. Blom and I will also speak once he’s assessed her, and we can decide how best to proceed.”

I nod, but my heart has never felt so heavy.

“You have no idea who could have done this?” he asks wearily, and I can see the unspoken question in his eyes. He means to say, did I have anything to do with this.

“I don’t know.” I repress the urge to break something. All afternoon, I have asked myself that very question. And until I know for certain, my rage is trapped inside me, waiting for a target. “My security is going over the perimeter cameras now.”

There are no cameras inside the estate because I never wanted them. A decision I’ve come to regret after today.

“Call me if you have any more concerns,” Dr. Hansen instructs me. “Otherwise, I will be back tomorrow to check on her.”