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“They hit you too?” Hawthorn growls, his voice hard and lethal.
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“They did other stuff, didn’t they?” Izzy asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“They starved you,” she gasps. “And humiliated you and ignored you. I remember…” Izzy breathes, her voice cracking as she covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god, they did all of that to you, and I forgot. I was so angry at you that I never did anything. They treated you that way for years, and I never said a word.”
“I want revenge!” I shout, needing to silence her, to make her shut up about the things I don’t ever want to think about again. “It’s not fair that they just get to walk away from this. It’s not fair that they get to just pretend we don’t exist, that they weren’t as complicit in this as I was.”
“Penelope,” Izzy says, moving toward me on wobbly legs.
“No,” I shriek, panic-stricken as I lift up a hand to ward her away, to stop her from bringing all those memories down on me. “I want them to feel at least a little of what we felt. I want them to understand that they don’t get to just forget about us. I want revenge,” I cry through a broken sob.
“But they’re not here,” Kip says quietly.
“I know, and they’re still playing with us from the other side of the world. Because of them, we can’t go into the house we grew up in—the house we’ve spent more time in than either of them. Because of them, we’ve had to start over with almost nothing. Because of them, we don’t have parents, we don’t have a family, and it’s not fair.”
“It’s not fair,” my twin agrees, nodding her head, even as tears stream down her face.
“I want them to suffer, even if it’s only a bit, even if it is only a blip to them. It’s not fair that they just get to forget us and everything we’ve done. I want revenge, and you should want it too,” I say, imploring her to understand, to feel the way I do.
She nods, slowly to start, then gets stronger as she reaches out and takes my hand. “What do you want to do?”
“I have no idea,” I say, the sound half laugh, half sob. “But I can’t just let them walk away without knowing that I’ve done something.”
“We can do it,” Gulliver says, moving to Izzy’s side, physically supporting her with his arm around her waist.
“Hell yeah, we can, we’re the future generations of five of the most powerful old money families in the country. Between us, we can make them feel this,” Kip says, jumping up and coming to join us.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Davis says, laughing maniacally.
“Let’s make them suffer,” Hawthorn growls, curling his palm possessively around my nape.
“I want to piss them off. I want to annoy the hell out of them and make them hurt in every way possible. I want them to suffer, I want revenge,” I pant, letting my body melt into Hawthorn’s and knowing without question that he’ll hold me up, that he will be there and be strong for me.
“Together, we can do this. Together, we can make them regret being the shittiest parents ever,” Izzy says, squeezing my hand tightly.
The will of a dead man ruined my life, and now somehow, it’s helping me put it back together again. Money is power, and I lost a fortune, but maybe I found something much more valuable.
They say revenge is sweet, but the best form of revenge is to be better than those you seek justice from. Perhaps when this is all over, I might be able to feel that way, but for now, I’m looking forward to using all those lessons my parents taught me to reap a little of what they helped me sow.
My name is Penelope Emerson Rhodes, and I’m not a good person. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I have a sister, a boyfriend, and a life I’m ready to start embracing.
My parents spent most of my life ignoring me and my twin, then they spent four years using us. Now they think they can just walk away.
They’re wrong.
* * *
My body starts to wilt as I watch the retreating forms of my sister, Gulliver, Kip, and Davis disappear down the gangplank and away from Hawthorn’s boat. Today has been intense, and all of my adrenaline-filled bravado is starting to dissolve. It’s barely even seven p.m., but I’m exhausted.
This afternoon has been a lot, but I did it. I made peace with my sister, admitted my feelings for Hawthorn, and managed to rally everyone together to take a stand and exact some revenge against my parents. It feels like I’ve crammed a few years’ worth of action into a few hours, and now I need to sleep for a month to recover.
“You hungry?” Hawthorn asks, prowling toward me with his predatory walk that makes me want to beg him for attention.
I shake my head. “Do you ever think of anything other than food?” I tease.
