Chapter Sixteen

Lena

This mansion isn't a house. It's a prison, a gilded cage.

I let out a sigh as I flatten my palm against the pane of a window in the library. My gaze scours the trimmed grass and the well-tended flower beds of the lawn below.

It's been three days since I came here, three days that I've been a prisoner. After half a dozen failed attempts at escaping on my second day, one of which almost ended in a sprained ankle, I've given up. I've stopped trying to contact the cops and my family, too. They won't be able to help me anyway, and I've decided I don't want to worry Ollie or my father. After all, this is my mess to sort out.

I don't have any communication with the outside world at all now. The last thing I got was a letter from the network accepting my resignation, which I didn't even tender. I guess Riley arranged that, just as he arranged to have my things brought over from my apartment and had someone buy everything else I needed. At least, that's what his assistant, Margo, said. I haven't seen Riley since that argument we had. I've been told he's busy with work, but I have a feeling he's avoiding me as well.

This room is the only thing that makes my captivity bearable. Aside from being filled with countless books, it has a copy of nearly every film ever made from the 50s to the early 70s, including some foreign gems.

I approach one of the shelves and pull out the container of the disk for Seven Samurai, one of my favorite films from Japan. That one was made back in 1954.

As I run my fingers over the black and white image on the cover, I wonder whose collection this is. Riley's father? Grandfather? Grandmother?

I still don't know anything about them. I've seen portraits on walls, but that's all. Even the maids won't tell me anything. They barely talk to me.

I put the container back on the shelf. It's such a shame that no one seems to watch these movies, even though there's a movie theater downstairs. Maybe I'll watch them all just to pass the time. And who knows? Maybe when I'm done, I won't feel so alone.

There are only two other things that I like about this mansion--the food, which is always good, and the kennels. I discovered them just this morning while wandering in the far south of the gardens. There are seven dogs in them--three German Shepherds, two Rottweilers, one Belgian Malinois and one Neapolitan Mastiff. They haven't warmed up to me yet, so I've made it one of my goals while staying here to win them over.

I glance at the clock on the wall.

Maybe I'll go and visit them again now. They might be a little less aggressive after having had their afternoon naps. And maybe I'll pass by the kitchen to get treats to bribe them with. Sure, they're supposed to be fearsome guard dogs, but even they deserve to get spoiled every now and then.

I go downstairs with those plans in mind, but they all evaporate as soon as I see a woman sitting on the red couch in the great room doing something on her phone. She looks like she's my age, well, maybe two or three years younger. Her wavy auburn hair flows past her shoulders over her pink chiffon blouse. White pants clad her crossed legs and open-toed ruby red shoes sheath her small feet.

Is she Riley's sister? Does Riley have a sister? Stepsister?

She looks up. When her brown eyes first meet mine, they grow wide, then momentarily narrow with a glint of--is that annoyance?--then light up as she smiles. The dimples on her cheeks show.

"You must be Lena," she says as she stands up. "I'm Judy. Judy Lawrence."

She offers me her hand and I stare at it while shaking it.

"My family and the McAllisters are good friends. You could say my older brother, Jerry, is Riley's best friend," Judy adds.

"Oh." I give her a smile.

I remember Riley saying something about a best friend.

"So you know Riley well."

"Yeah." She shrugs. "But not as well as you. You're his wife, right?"

So she's heard.

I sit on the couch. "Actually, that's not exactly true."

Maybe it's because I haven't spoken to anyone in the past three days. Maybe it's because I'm in desperate need of a friend or an ally and Judy seems the most promising candidate. Whatever the reason, I find myself telling Judy everything--especially about how the divorce papers we signed on the show were fake and how Riley is refusing to give me a real divorce even though I don't want to be married to him anymore.

"Wow." Judy looks at me with wide eyes after I'm done. "So that's what happened, huh?"

"That's what happened," I agree with a sigh.

She shakes her head. "I didn't know Riley could be so mean. He's always been so sweet and kind."

My eyebrows arch. But didn't he say this was the real him? Was he lying?

Judy sits back and sighs. "It must suck being married to someone you hate."

"Well, I don't hate him, but--"

"And to be held prisoner in such a large house," she goes on as she puts a hand on her forehead. "I'd die of boredom."

Boredom is one of my lesser problems, actually.

She sits up and turns to me. "You know, you shouldn't accept this. You should demand your freedom. You should stand up to Riley."

I roll my eyes. "Believe me, Judy. I've tried. He won't listen."

"Well, try harder."

I look at her. "What exactly is it you suggest I do?"

"Threaten him," she answers. "Turn the tables around. Let him know who's boss."

"Threaten him?" I give her a puzzled look. "With what?"

"Say if he doesn't let you go, you'll kill yourself."

My eyes grow wide at the macabre suggestion.

"I don't think I can go that far."

"It's just a threat. You don't have to follow through with it."

I shrug. "Then he won't believe me."

"Hmm." Judy touches her chin. Then she lifts her finger. "I know. Say you won't have sex with him anymore."

Wow. This girl is full of crazy ideas.

"But we're not having sex in the first place," I say as I suppress a blush.

"You're not?"

I look away as I scratch my cheek. "Maybe threatening him is not a good idea."

"But there must be something we can do," Judy says. "I mean, we can't just let men do what they want. Even though we're women, we're just as strong as they are, if not stronger. You know, sometimes I think they're just scared of that. They don't want to accept that we're stronger than they are so, they do everything to make us look weak and make us do things. They're just a bunch of stupid cowards."

I glance at the woman beside me in surprise. Now she's making sense. I guess she's not just a spoiled rich girl.

"You're absolutely right," I tell her as I nod. "We can't just let men do whatever they want."

She places her hand over mine. "Hey, what if I help you escape? I think I can do that."

"You can?"

Judy nods.

Well, I guess she can, since she can come and go here as she pleases. And since she's rich and her parents are friends with the McAllisters.

"But won't Riley get mad at you?" I ask her.

She holds a finger to her lips. "Not if he doesn't know about it."

Right.

"Well, what do you think?"

I shake my head. "I wish I could, but escaping is useless as long as I'm Riley's wife on paper. I realize that now."

"Oh." She scratches her chin. "If only there was a way to make him sign divorce papers."

"If only," I mutter.

Judy sighs. "I'm sorry I can't help you."

"But you have helped me." I place my hand over hers. "Just having someone to talk to is a big help."

"Really?" Her face lights up.

Can it be that she doesn't have friends, either?

I nod.

"Are you saying we're friends?" she asks me eagerly.

I shrug. "I guess."

She grabs my hands. "Then we should do something together, something to celebrate our friendship."

I glance around. "Um, I'm grounded, remember?"

She frowns as her shoulders slump. "Oh, right."

Then she stands up. "But we can still celebrate here, right? I know there's plenty of good wines in the cellar."

"Wine?" I give her a look of surprise.

"Yeah. We'll drink to our friendship."

My gaze drops as I scratch my neck. "I'm not exactly a wine drinker. Or any kind of a drinker, for that matter. I mean, I sometimes have a bit of wine with dinner, but--"

"Oh, come on." Judy pulls my arms. "You're still allowed to have fun, right?"

"Yes," I answer. "But I don't think drinking is a good idea."

She shrugs. "Isn't that what makes it fun? Besides, you're already being punished even though you did nothing wrong, so you might as well do something bad, something rebellious and mischievous."

I have to admit she has a point.

"Drink your worries away," Judy urges. "Let loose. Let Riley know that he can keep you locked up here but he can't chain your spirit."

I nod. "I like the sound of that."

"So do I." She tugs my arm. "So, shall we go get the party started?"

I grin. "Why not?"

Judy's right. I may be a prisoner here, but even prisoners can have fun. Besides, it's not like I'm going to cause a ruckus or turn the place upside down. I'm just going to get a little drunk.