Chapter 10: The Reveal

I had been planning this for weeks, perhaps from the moment I first fastened the collar around her throat. That small silver lock clicking shut had changed something in me, had shifted my understanding of what we were to each other. She had sworn she was mine, only mine, forever. She had also accepted my ownership, my claim, my love, with her whole heart, her whole body, her whole self. In that acceptance, I had found a security I had never known before, a confidence that allowed me to consider what was previously unthinkable.

I believed, perhaps arrogantly, maybe even foolishly, that our bond was strong enough now to survive the truth. The collar meant she could not leave me, would not leave me, that she was bound to me by love and devotion and the physical symbol of her submission. I felt that I finally controlled her completely, owned her utterly, and that this ownership made the risk worthwhile. I wanted no more barriers between us, no more lies, and no more masks. I wanted her to know the full extent of what she had committed to, along with the wealth and privilege I could provide, even with the twisted lineage we shared, the absolute and perverse intimacy of our connection. I wanted her to understand that she had given herself to her own mother, her own sister, and that this made our love more powerful, more primal, more eternal than any ordinary bond could ever be.

Because of the promises I’d made her, I’d stopped fucking men in the back room with her. It severely disappointed many of the men, with one even offering us two thousand dollars to do it one last time. Last night had been our last time to dance at the club, and I told Amelia we were going somewhere the next day and may not be back.

I drove us to Austin in silence, the Honda eating up the miles on I-30, Amelia dozing in the passenger seat, her hand resting on my thigh, and her head leaning against the window. I had told her only that I had a surprise for her, that I wanted to show her where I came from, who I really was. She had accepted this, trusting, her eyes bright with excitement and curiosity when she woke, asking questions I deflected with smiles and promises.

We pulled into the underground garage of the building just after dark, the city lights sparkling above us like a constellation of false stars. I parked in my assigned spot, the one I had not used in many months, the one that cost more per month than our Texarkana apartment. I led her to the private elevator, the one that required a key card, the one that bypassed the lobby and rose straight to the penthouse.

She looked at me differently as I swiped the card, as the elevator rose with a soft hum, and the doors opened into the penthouse. Her mouth opened slightly, her eyes widening, taking in the space, the height, the impossible luxury.

The penthouse was exactly as I had left it six months ago, although I had messaged ahead to have it cleaned and stocked. The leather chair still sat where I had first touched myself to her photograph. The glass table where the folder had sat still in front of it. The city sprawled below through floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the entire south wall, the lights twinkling, the traffic moving like blood through veins far below. It smelled of money and emptiness and me, the real me, the one I had hidden from her.

“This is yours?” she whispered, her voice small and reverent, almost sounding afraid.

“It was,” I said, my hand finding the small of her back, guiding her along. “It will be again. I wanted you to see it. I wanted you to see what I can give you. What we could have together.”

She walked through the rooms like a child in a cathedral, touching things hesitantly, the marble countertops, the silk curtains, the furniture that cost more than a year of her life at the grocery store. She was small in this space, overwhelmed, and her thrift store clothes and cheap haircut made her look like a waif, or a foundling. Like something I had rescued and was now putting on display. To me, though, she looked perfect. She looked like she belonged here. Like she had always belonged here, with me, in the world I had built while searching for her.