Page 1 of Wicked Elites

Chapter 1

Since Mom’s breast cancer diagnosis, I’d had nightmares of watching her linger away in a hospice, dying a slow, painful death. Dad would sit by her bed with Ashley, providing silent and stoic support. That’s how I pictured Mom’s death.

But the car accident and the cremation had proven me wrong. In one terrible evening, I’d lost them both. And now I sat in the office of Selby Solicitors, straining to hear the reading of Mom’s will over Ashley’s wailing.

“Why did they have to die?” Ashley hiccuped.

“The life insurance policy only covered the mortgage amount for the house,” said the solicitor. “Which leaves you in a precarious position.”

I leaned forward. “If we can pay off the mortgage, isn’t that good?”

Mr. Selby drew back and sighed. “What about the costs of maintaining the house? Your living expenses? There’s little that social services will offer two seventeen-year-old girls.”

Uncle Trevor clasped his hands. “Are you suggesting they sell the house?”

“That’s something you’ll have to decide amongst yourselves,” he replied in a tone that said yes.

“S-sell it,” said Ashley. “We can use the money for a statue.”

I ran my fingers through my mahogany hair. “And where would we live?”

Aunt Hortense stiffened in that way that meant she was unwilling to take on two grieving teenagers.

Uncle Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. “Our place is already cramped with three kids, and with Hortense expecting… I’m sorry, girls.”

A rush of determination, sharp as an ax, cut through my stupor of numbness and grief. Mom and Dad might be gone, but it didn’t mean we had to get rid of the house. The four of us had worked together renovating the cottage, and fond memories were etched into those walls. I couldn’t face erasing their existence.

“We’re not selling.” I stood. “Thank you, Mr. Selby. Was there anything else?”

The solicitor shook his head. “I’ll have the title deeds transferred to your names. You should hear from the Inland Revenue in time with a calculation of the inheritance tax.”

“Inheritance ta—” I shook my head. It was too much. We’d deal with the tax bill when it arrived. Right now, I just wanted to go home.

“Ashley.” Aunt Hortense pulled herself to her feet in the exaggerated way heavily pregnant women moved. She hooked her hand under my sister’s arm. “Come along.”

Ashley allowed Aunt Hortense to pull her up, and she leaned hard on the smaller woman. The slight shuffle in her gait indicated my twin sister had downed a few drinks to bolster herself for the reading of the will. I rubbed my temples. She was taking Mom and Dad’s death harder than everyone.

“Willow.” Uncle Trevor watched them leave. As soon as the door clicked shut, he murmured, “Perhaps now would be a good time to tell your sister why your Mom and Dad were driving late on the night of the crash.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“It might be the catalyst she needs to stop drinking and to better herself.”

“Or it might be the catalyst to a complete breakdown,” I replied. “Look, I know my twin. She’d be devastated if she knew Mom and Dad had gotten themselves killed going out to look for her.”

As I stood, a wave of grief crashed through my gut, knocking me back into my seat.

“Sorry.” He grabbed my arm. “Keeping that secret might be more of a burden than you can imagine.”

“Right now, my biggest burden is keeping a roof over our heads.”

“There is something that might give you the funds you need to maintain the house,” he said. “And you’d also get to study.”

“A job at a school?”

“Not exactly.” Uncle Trevor stood. “Your mother told me about a letter they received at the end of the summer term from a prestigious academy on the Elite Register.”

I furrowed my brows and pulled myself to my feet. The Elite Register was an examination body that assessed the quality of schools. It listed only the finest of establishments, usually those that charged a fortune for tuition fees.