Chapter Eighty-six Evan Sterling's POV (Present Time)

I saved the trimmed copies of the videos on my phone and asked Estera to go about her day as if nothing was amiss. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, she whispered with her hand clutching a fistful of my inner shirt, “Please—please, my love, be careful.”
“I promise you nothing is going to happen to me,” I whispered back, dropped a quick kiss on her lips and left her office. By the time I got to the corridor leading to Mary Antoinette’s room, Foster was already waiting for me by her door. He nodded at me when I got close, pushed the door open, and walked inside. I followed him.
Mary Antoinette lit up with smiles when she saw me and the image of her getting fucked by all those different men including my father and her father ruined the image of the pale woman lying in that hospital bed.
I gave her a smile and went to draw a seat on the side of the bed. Reaching for her hand, I said, "how are you this morning?"
"Had a bad start, but doctor Foster gave me a painkiller," she said with a worn smile and I felt sorry for her. Figuring her life must not be a walk in the park. I knew exactly what it felt like to have someone who was supposed to love, protect and be in your corner turn out to be the one hurting you.
I was sixteen when Edward first hit me and it had hurt like hell, and over the years I grew numb to the pain. I wondered if that was the case with Mary Antoinette.
"So sorry about that. I need to discuss something with you and at this point, I'm going to need you to be completely honest with me--"
"What is it?" she asked looking apprehensive as she began to wriggle her hands, and her eyes darted hurriedly in their sockets. My eyes followed all the telltale signs one after the other before holding her gaze.
"It seems you already know what am talking about Mary Antoinette—" I said, leading her on as I placed my phone which was already recording the conversation on the bed by her pillow. She sighed.
“I guessed right—he knew,” she said almost inaudibly as if she was talking to herself.
“Who Mary Antoinette?” I asked. She threw Foster an awkward gaze.
"When the nurses came in earlier to examine me, and take test samples, I … I suspected you knew I was … raped, Dr. Foster," she said. Foster didn't try to debunk her claim. He only stood there holding her gaze with an emotionless stare.
"I merely suspected, I wasn’t sure. You were bleeding and had bruises around your thighs … I am still waiting for the test results to ascertain my suspicion. But since you are certain of what the nurses would discover, it means you know who your rapist was. Who was it, Ms. Dallas? Who raped you?" he said in a cool calm voice which wasn’t emotionless nor was it cold, it was some sort of professional tone yet compassionate. Mary Antoinette may have missed Foster addressing her as ‘Ms. Dallas’ but I didn’t.
Mary Antoinette nodded and tears streamed down the sides of her face.
"I heard you talking to him. You didn’t want him to stay but he insisted and I know you already know it was him," she said.
“Who, Mary Antoinette?” I asked.
“My father, Antony Dallas—” she said and started to sob.
"Is this the first time?” Foster asked.
“No,” she replied.
“Were you aware of what he did? Were you conscious?” Foster asked.
“It felt like some sort of a lucid dream—”
“So then he was in the habit of drugging and raping you?” I asked.
“Yes, but not the first time—” she replied.
“When was that?” Foster asked
"When I was sixteen."
"How did it happen?" Foster asked.
“I didn’t have that much freedom when I was growing up. I was never allowed to have friends over or go visiting friends or even relatives. Bodyguards followed me everywhere I went. And as a result, the house servants and my guards were the only people I relate with. I grew fond of one of them. He was eighteen – the youngest of the lot. His name was David Weber. We used to hang out in the kitchen most nights and talk,” she paused and shrugged. “Our friendship developed, and one night, one thing led to another and we had sex. I enjoyed it and I suppose he did as well. We got careless though and did it a couple more times without protection and I got pregnant and wasn’t even aware that I was until I got sick. My mother took me to see the family doctor and they found out I was pregnant. Later in the night, my mother was in my room helping me to dress I wasn’t able to retain food and kept throwing up and as a result, I was too weak to tend to myself. My father got back from work, attacked David and almost killed him then came upstairs to my room holding a belt. A splatter of blood was on the white vest he wore and even his shoes had blood on them. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised and when my mother tried to stop him from advancing to my bed he hit her, pulled her to the door and threw her outside. Then he locked the door and came at me. I was barely covered and sitting on the edge of my bed. He hit me with the belt on my back repeatedly until I fell to the floor. One minute he was hitting me and screaming at me calling me a whore, telling me I was going to hell and the next minute he yanked me up by my hair, held me to the wall and … "
"And what Mary Antoinette?" Foster urged.
"He forced himself into me. My mother tried to break in but she couldn't."
"What happened to the child and David?" I asked, feeling chilled to the bone.