Bound By Fate

Chapter Six

As they approached the dining table, the imposing figure of The Hulk motioned for Skylar to sit down. With a sense of resignation, she complied, sinking into the plush seat as if it were a throne of thorns.

At the head of the table sat Edgar, his presence commanding the room with an air of authority that sent a chill down Skylar's spine.

"I had this feast made in your honor, Miss Bloom," Edgar announced, his voice laced with a sinister undertone that sent a shiver down Skylar's spine.

Skylar sat there, paralyzed with fear, her gaze locked on Edgar as he began to serve himself, each movement deliberate and calculated.

"You know, it's rude not to thank someone for such a warm welcoming," he remarked, his gaze fixed on the food before him.

Skylar tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, leaving her gasping for air.

Edgar raised an eyebrow, fixing her with a steely gaze. "Well?" he prompted, his tone tinged with impatience.

Once again, Skylar attempted to form words, but all that escaped her lips was a choked breath.

Edgar's smile faltered for a moment before returning, though there was a glint of something darker lurking behind his eyes. "I can tell you're still a bit shaken, so I'll forgive your ill-mannered behavior, this time," he conceded, though there was a hint of menace in his tone.

Skylar remained frozen in her seat, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts and fears. She knew she had to eat, to play along with Edgar's twisted charade, but the thought of consuming the food before her, filled her with a sense of revulsion.

"Now eat," Edgar commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

With trembling hands, Skylar began to fill her plate, her movements slow and deliberate as if she were walking on eggshells. As the first morsel touched her tongue, a wave of flavor exploded in her mouth, sending her taste buds into a frenzy of ecstasy. It was the most delicious food she had ever tasted, a stark contrast to the meager scraps she was accustomed to.

"Quite good, isn't it?" Edgar remarked, a hint of pride in his voice.

Skylar nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the man who held her fate in his hands.

As Edgar continued to eat, Skylar's thoughts drifted to Derick, the realization dawning on her like a bolt of lightning. Thatcher... as in Derick Thatcher. Anger bubbled up inside her as she remembered the disdainful look he had given her after she had forced him to apologize. Was this his twisted way of exacting revenge? Kidnapping her for daring to stand up to him?

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and she tensed as Derick entered the room, his expression one of shock and disbelief.

"What the hell is she doing here, Dad?" he demanded, his voice dripping with venom.

Skylar's heart skipped a beat as she realized the truth: Edgar was Derick's father.

"Derick! How dare you use that language in this house!" Edgar thundered, his voice reverberating off the walls.

Derick's expression softened, a look of submission crossing his features. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, dropping his head in shame.

Skylar watched the exchange with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Could it be that Edgar wasn't as monstrous as she had initially thought?

As Derick took his seat across from her, Skylar felt his gaze burning into her with a mixture of hatred and contempt. Any lingering fear she had felt before was quickly replaced by a fiery rage, fueled by the injustice of her situation.

"I can't believe you kidnapped me! Derick, you are a despicable human being," she spat, her voice trembling with righteous indignation.

Edgar's eyes flicked to her, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "As much as I've enjoyed your accusations, Miss Bloom, my son is not to blame," he interjected, his tone tinged with impatience.

Skylar's anger faltered for a moment as she processed his words. If Derick wasn't responsible for her kidnapping, then who was?

"Miss Bloom," Edgar addressed her, his tone softer now, "there seems to have been a misunderstanding."

Skylar's brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to make sense of his cryptic words. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Edgar sighed, a look of disappointment crossing his features. "It seems your father has gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble," he explained, his gaze fixed on her.

Skylar's blood ran cold at his words. "What kind of trouble?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Edgar shook his head, a look of regret in his eyes. "Your father has accrued a rather sizable debt," he admitted, his tone somber.

Skylar's mind reeled at the revelation. Her father, burdened by addiction and desperation, had gambled away more than he could afford to lose.

"How much?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear.

Edgar's gaze bore into hers, his expression grave. "One hundred and twenty-three thousand, plus interest," he replied, his words like a death knell.

Skylar's heart sank as the weight of her father's debt pressed down on her like a lead weight. How could she ever hope to repay such a staggering sum?

"And what exactly do you expect me to do about it?"

she demanded, her voice laced with desperation.

Edgar's smile returned, though there was a hint of malice in it now. "You, Miss Bloom, are going to work for me," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Skylar's blood ran cold at his words. "Work for you?" she repeated, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

Edgar nodded, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. "Until you've paid off your father's debt in full," he added, his tone final.

Skylar's mind raced with a thousand questions, but one thing was clear: her fate was now irrevocably tied to the man who held her future in his hands. And as she stared into the abyss of uncertainty that lay before her, she knew that there was no escaping the darkness that lurked within Edgar Thatcher's twisted world.