The Ruthless Heir

Judge’s [POV]

I spend the afternoon in my study. I don’t go upstairs to see her. I don’t ask about her. Instead, I sit here and drink my scotch as I scroll through the photos on her phone yet again and grow angrier and angrier.

At seven o’clock on the dot, Lois knocks on my door to let me know Dr. Barnes is here. I’m in no mood for conversation and want to get this done and over with. Because I’m questioning my motives for doing it in the first place.

Would I, if I were to take a wife, subject her to a virginity test? Would I care about her purity?

I’m a modern man. And as much as Society is ingrained in my very being, some practices I find archaic. And the virginity test is one.

So why am I doing it? Is it to punish her? And for what? For wanting a man? For being with a man? For that man not being me?

Doesn’t that make me what I accused her of being? Arrogant? Worse?

No. I push those thoughts from my mind. If Santiago knew what I’d found, he’d order the test himself. That’s what I tell myself as I get to my feet to greet Dr. Barnes and lead him upstairs to my bedroom where Erica has pulled a chair up to the open window and is sitting there with a blanket wrapped around her, her feet up on the windowsill as she stares out at the night sky.

She turns her head when I enter, and for a moment, the look in her eyes makes me want to stop this. But then whatever it was I glimpsed there moments ago morphs into a cool indifference, and she’s about to turn back to the window when Dr. Barnes enters.

“Erica,” I say.

She looks at the man. He’s in his forties and not as hardened in expression or personality as some of the other Society doctors. It’s why I chose him.

“This is Dr. Barnes. Dr. Barnes, Erica De La Rosa.”

“Ms. De La Rosa,” Dr. Barnes says, bowing his head in greeting.

Erica looks suspiciously from him to me and sets her feet on the floor. She tugs the blanket closer.

“Dr. Barnes,” she says, turning her gaze to him. “It’s nice to meet you, but if you came to check on me, I can assure you I’m fine. My headache is gone, and I feel like myself.”

Dr. Barnes glances at me, confused.

I clear my throat. “That’s not why he’s here.”

I think she planned to ignore me outright, but this makes it impossible. “Then why is he here?” she asks, getting to her feet, the thick duvet making her appear small.

“He’ll be conducting a virginity test.”

It takes her a minute. “Pardon?”

“A virginity test. It’s standard practice with The Society, as you know.”

“Are you serious?” she asks me.

I turn to the doctor. “Would you give us a minute?”

“Of course.” Dr. Barnes steps into the hallway, and I close the door behind him, then turn to Erica.

“What the fuck, Judge?”

I step closer, my breathing somehow normal even through this rage growing inside me all day.

“So, 39 Wooded Way, Erica?”

She opens her mouth, stunned, color leaching from her face.

“Georgie. Is he your fucking boyfriend? Are you living together?”

“Wh… what?”

“I saw his clothes. In your house that I’m certain Santiago knows nothing about. Your behavior, the vomiting”

“I’m not pregnant! I told you that.”

“Even if you’re not if you’re not a virgin”

“I know the rules, Judge. I wouldn’t do that to Santiago. Shame him like that.”

“You know the rules, yet you’re living a second life outside of Society.”

“A second life is a bit much”

“A life I’m not sure I understand.”

“How could you? You’re a man. The rules, you have none. Me? I can hardly breathe without permission. There are expectations of me that are so outdated, you can’t even begin to understand. You? You have the fucking Cat House to fuck around as much as you want, and we have to submit to a fucking virginity test? Does that seem remotely fair or normal to you?”

Her eyes are bright with rage and something else, something like hurt. And for as much fight as Mercedes has in her, there is something submissive about her. Or maybe she’s learned sometimes it’s easier to submit.

I go to her and close my hands over her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me!” She shoves me off.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“The texts between you and this man.”

“He’s my friend. My friend!”

“You call him your boyfriend.”

She looks at me like I just sprouted a second head, then chuckles, and it’s that same unhinged sound as when she dumped the bowl of soup on me. The one that warns them she’s coming undone. It’s what I want, right? To break her down so I can build her back up.

I shake my head and wrap my hands around the back of my neck.

“Fuck, Erica.”

“Have you looked closely at those photos, Judge?” she asks, shoving the duvet from her shoulders and standing tall, hands on her hips. She’s still wearing my T-shirt and has a pair of my socks on her feet. She must have gotten a cold.

“I have.”

“Did you notice anything?” She raises her eyebrows and looks oddly amused.

“Like what?”

“Georgie?”

“What the fuck kind of name is that anyway?”

She stops. Exhales a quick, short chuckle and studies me, one corner of her mouth quirking upward. “Are you jealous?”

I swallow, and look down at her. “I am concerned.”

“Well,” she says, cocking her head and walking around to my side of the bed where she opens the nightstand drawer and fuck me. Because I’d forgotten it. Forgotten I’d dropped the panties I’d pocketed, her panties, in there.

She slips them out now. “Are you sure about that?” she asks, walking toward me and dangling them between us.

I clench my jaw but remain silent.

She smiles, shakes her head, and shoves them into the breast pocket of my vest. “You enjoy those,” she says and bends to slip the thong she’s wearing off. “Have these too,” she says, slapping them against my chest so hard she rocks on her heels when I don’t budge. I take them, her hand slipping through mine as she walks away and climbs up on my bed. “Bring the good doctor in,” she says, settling back against the headboard and setting her feet on her mattress, spreading them wide. “You can both have a good look at what you will never fuck.”