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Once I stop speaking, I wait for him to argue. I knew I might face some resistance from him and that there’s a chance he’s on my parents’ payroll with all of my teachers. But instead, Mr. Kingston stares at me, his lips downturned, his expression sad and then he nods—just one single, silent movement that says nothing and everything all at once.
Relief, blinding and overwhelming, hits me like a Mack Truck and I suck in a shaky gasp as tears flood my eyes.
Lifting his phone from his desk, Mr. Kingston brings the receiver to his ear and speaks. “Could you ask Neville to come to my office, please? I need something notarized.”
* * *
Sliding the key card into my newly acquired hotel room door lock, I push inside and close the door behind me.
It’s done.
It’s over.
Dropping my purse on the couch, I fall down after it, my legs giving way as the bravado and adrenaline I’ve been running on all day starts to dissolve. I’m dimly aware of the softness of the cushions beneath me, but I can barely focus on it as my body starts to shake so intensely my teeth chatter and my muscles jerk violently.
What the hell did I just do?
I just ruined mine and my entire family’s futures. I just gave up a fortune. My parents will never forgive me. Or maybe they will. A tiny glimmer of hope inside of me wonders if it’s possible that now that it’s over, they’ll be pleased. That maybe they’re as disgusted by everything we’ve done, as I am.
No. Not even I’m naïve enough to think they won’t hate me for destroying the future they’ve so meticulously plotted and schemed for. But what I did today needed to happen, even if the fallout of my choices will ruin me, my parents, and maybe even Izabella. I just changed all of our lives, the same way that envelope full of papers did all those years ago.
Desolation consumes me as I try to imagine what my future will look like now. I chose to change everything, but I forgot to consider that in my new future, I’ll be alone. I haven’t been alone for nearly four years. I haven’t taken a step or spoken a single word that wasn’t thought about, considered, and discussed. My parents waltzed back into my world and took over my every waking moment. What will they do now? What will I do now? Izabella has Gulliver and…Hawthorn and their friends. She has a whole new family, and I have…me. Just me.
A single tear slides from my eye, rolling down my cheek and falling to my knee. With shaking fingers, I touch it, rubbing the moisture between my thumb and forefinger. My mind threatens to swirl out of control, but the day isn’t over yet, it isn’t the time to fall apart. Focusing all of my energy, I stare at my fingers. The tears are gone, the wetness absorbed into the fabric of my jeans, but I don’t look away. I center my thoughts on the tear, on the simple movement of my fingertips rubbing together, and I pray it’s enough to keep me whole for a little while longer.
Pulling in a deep, shuddering breath, I sit up straighter. Every choice I made today was the right one. The first right decisions I’ve made in a really long time. Now I need to wash my face, get dressed, and go to my sister’s engagement party. Because she deserves better than everything I’ve put her through. She deserves to be happy and in love, and breaking the will sets her free. I just hope that she gets at least a few happy moments with her fiancé before everything goes to hell.
* * *
Two hours later, I smooth down the fabric of my dress, lifting my head and catching a glimpse of my reflection in the long mirror that’s attached to the closet door. All of my clothes are at my parents’ house, but it only took a single phone call to have a gown couriered to me at the hotel. My dress is black, cocktail length, with a corseted bodice and a narrow skirt that clings to me like a second skin, giving the illusion of curves that I don’t actually have. The color is more suited to a funeral than a party, but this is an ending of sorts, so it seems fitting.
Instead of leaving my hair loose in my signature style, I twist it up into a severe bun, lining my eyes with dark liner, and coating my lips in a nude gloss. Sliding my feet into simple black pumps, I check my texts and see that the town car I ordered is here. Grabbing my purse, I double check that I have everything I need before I slip from the room.
Striding into the ballroom where my sister’s engagement party is being held, I glance around the busy room spotting lots of familiar faces, but not Izabella or Gulliver, the only two people I’m here to see.
Working my way through the groups of partygoers, I offer polite smiles and nods of acknowledgment to everyone who catches my eye, but I don’t stop to speak. Before I have a chance to find my sister, my gaze lands on my mom. The moment she sees me, she pushes her way through the crowd, an expression of pure rage hardening her already cosmetically altered face until she appears to be almost like an angry porcelain doll.
Despite her being in her mid-forties, Mom’s had enough work done that she has the body and skin of a twenty-year-old, but her eyes belie her age. Or maybe that’s just the evil demon inside of her that’s trying to get out.
Fighting the urge to turn and run in the opposite direction, I sigh as silently as I can muster and school my expression, twisting my lips into an enigmatic smile, the way my mother helped me perfect. It feels almost poetic to be using the skills she taught me against her now, although I doubt she’ll see the irony of it.
“Penelope,” she snarls, as her fingers wrap tightly around my wrist, her nails digging into my skin just hard enough for her to exert control over me.
“Mother,” I reply cordially. “You look lovely.”
“Where the hell have you been?” she snarls, leaning in to me. “What happened last night? The video wasn’t there.”
Inhaling slowly, I let my eyes fall shut for the briefest of moments before a broken, bitter laugh falls from my lips. I might be evil, but this woman is the devil. Who would I have become if I’d just said no to all the fucked-up things she’s had me do since the will was read? Would I just be a normal teenager thinking about prom and college, or have I always been destined to become the calculated, conniving bitch I am now?
“Penelope,” Mom hisses, her nails digging deeper into my skin and dragging me from my thoughts and back to the present.
“Do you ever sit back and consider your actions?” I ask quietly.
“What?”
“Do you ever wonder who you’d be…who we’d all be if the money had just been left to grandfather like it should have been?”
“What are you talking about? Have you been drinking? How dare you put me in this position, child? What happened last night? I assumed when you didn’t come down for dinner, things were going according to our plan. But then this morning when I checked the footage, there wasn’t any.” Her hold on my wrist tightens, and the pain of her nails puncturing my skin flares hot, but I don’t say anything or allow my discomfort to show on my face. She’s trained me better than that. “You had a job to do, Penelope. Surely not even you are dumb enough to mess up such a simple request that would have set everything that’s gone wrong in the last few weeks right,” Mom says, her tone scathing and, oh, so familiar.
