Jo's Point of View...
You can trust him.
The voice in my head spoke to me. My conscience, which I've relied on to guide me throughout my life, was more vocal once I turned fourteen. Sometimes, it felt like an actual person with how it guided me. I don't know if it's like that for everyone, but then again, I've never been able to ask anyone else.
"Bethany. My mom's name was Bethany," I whispered.
"Do you feel comfortable telling me your last name, Jo?" Silas asked gently.
"No," I answered quickly.
Silas wasn't offended; he just nodded thoughtfully.
"Can you tell me if your mother had the same last name as your father?" Silas inquired softly.
"I don't know, I'm sorry," I responded.
It was true. I didn't know. There were no photographs of my mother or father. The only parent I had ever known was Lennox Armstrong. The only other person constantly present in my life was the head of his security, Wesley. The man was loyal to my father but had a soft spot for me. More times than not, I had escaped my Dad's wrath due to Wesley's creative interpretation of the truth.
"You don't know your father's name, do you?" Silas asked gently.
I shook my head and looked down. I had asked once when I was twelve, and I learned the harsh reality that where I came from would never be revealed to me. That was the first time Lennox punished me, leaving a lasting impression. I shivered in fear, and my eyes welled up with tears just at the memory of it. My adopted father was a cruel man, and he had made it clear that day that I belonged to him.
I gingerly got up from the table and brought my dishes over with the intent to wash them.
"Jo, it's okay, leave them in the sink. It will give me something to do," Silas chuckled.
"Are you sure, Mr. Stone? I don't mind," I asked.
"Yes, my dear, no worries at all. Felix should be down in a few minutes and can bring you to your room. Our home is quite large, and given your injuries, I'm going to insist that he carry you back up those stairs and up to your room. If you need anything, he'll be right next door for you to ask," Silas smiled.
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your kindness," I answered.
"Jo, do you have any questions for me? I've rather dominated our chat due to my curious nature and wanting to know more about you," Silas chuckled.
"You have a beautiful home. Is it near the site that is being developed?" I asked.
"Thank you, we're quite fond of it. It's been in our family for generations. Mind you, it has been renovated and remodeled throughout the years," Silas smiled, gesturing to the stainless steel appliances.
"It is located a vast distance from the developed site—our estate borders on the protected lands. We value our privacy; many family members have lived on the property for years. Think of it as a hidden village or an extensive gated community. We have our family doctor, recreational facilities, and little shops. Felix bringing you here when you were injured surprised us all, but it made sense, given how late it was. Some roads connect to the city from here, but they are private property patrolled by our security," Silas explained.
My eyes widened at his explanation, and I started to panic. Was I being slowly inducted into some cult? Was this a mafia compound? Did I leave one form of captivity only to find myself in another? Oh my God, what the f**k did I do?
Breathe. Ask him. If you panic, you won't have any answers, will you?
I could feel the familiar surge of anxiety building within my chest, threatening to escalate into a full-blown panic attack. Recognizing the signs, I took a deep breath, inhaling slowly through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. As I closed my eyes, I focused on the sensation of the air filling my lungs and the warmth of it leaving my body.
That's it, Jo. Breathe. When you are calm, ask Silas.
As I continued regulating my breathing, I embraced progressive muscle relaxation. Starting with my toes and working my way up, I tensed and slowly released each muscle group, easing the tension from my body. The physical act of relaxing my muscles helped to break the cycle of anxiety.
This was a technique that Wesley had taught me after he became aware of the panic attacks I experienced. The man could be cold as ice and scary as hell, but for whatever reason, he did his best to care for me despite his role as my father's most loyal employee. Any little kindness I had experienced was because of that man. For a moment, I felt guilty knowing that Wesley would be worried, not knowing where I was right now. But then again, Wesley was the one who had encouraged me to insist on attending college and being able to have the little bit of freedom I had. In some strange way, I always thought he stayed in my father's employ to ensure I had an advocate and someone to run interference on my behalf.
Wesley won't worry. He'll know you are okay. Focus on your breathing. You need to calm down, Jo.
In an attempt to ground myself more in the present moment, I engaged my senses. I took note of the physical sensations around me – the feeling of my feet on the ground, the subtle hum of the kitchen appliances, and the texture of the large, polished wooden table within my reach. By tuning into my surroundings, I could finally shift my focus away from the overwhelming thoughts causing my distress.
Okay, Jo. You're calm. Ask Silas now.
"Mr. Stone, will I be permitted to leave here? Or will I be required to stay unless you deem otherwise?" I asked nervously.
Silas gave me a knowing smile. He paused before answering, clearly choosing his words carefully.
"Jo, this isn't a mafia compound or a cult. It is a group of families who dwell together. We have contact with others and will sometimes invite people into our dwelling. The Stone family is affluent and prosperous. It has preferred a more reserved lifestyle even before it was in fashion to be for the wealthy elite. You have nothing to fear being here. If anything, you should feel safer, Jo. There is no way that your father can reach you here. But yes, you are free to come and go as you please," Silas confirmed with a smile.
How did he know what I was thinking?
Aksara