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Chapter One
Penn
I stared out the window as I sat on my bed while the fancy party happened below me in the courtyard, my eyes following my father as he mingled with his guests. It was all fake, none of them actually liked each other, it was just a big show to form business relationships.
Champagne flutes were handed out by the multiple staff members that wandered the yard, and everyone wore expensive suits and gowns.
Of course, I wasn’t invited. I’d mess up his perfectly made plans of a calm, fancy, evening.
I was the problem child, the embarrassment. He didn’t want me down there destroying his social status.
I flipped my long, blonde hair over my shoulder and drew my knees to my chest with a huff. I was used to being hidden away in this bullshit tower of lies. Having money didn’t buy happiness, it bought a social standard to fit into, drug and alcohol abuse, and child neglect.
I’d been raised by nannies without much affection by my parents. Dad cared more about his place in society than he did me.
No wonder my sister killed herself.
Mom bailed not long after we buried Emily. I remember hearing my parents arguing about who got to keep me. Neither wanted me, being too caught up in their lavish lifestyles, and we woke up one morning to find Mom gone.
She wasn’t a trophy wife, she had multiple investment properties and businesses, meaning not even the thought of a good divorce payout kept her here.
I’d learned how to sneak out of our mansion here in Kingslake and into Stoneleigh well before we’d lost Emily. I’d been ten when she’d taken her young life at only fifteen.
Dad reported to the tabloids that she’d died while having plastic surgery, more ashamed of suicide than people thinking he was allowing his teenage daughter to get fake tits or something.
Image was everything to him, but it meant nothing to me.
I was itching to get out of the house and go to the gym to hit some bags or something, but I knew it wasn’t going to be happening tonight. Not with the amount of security Dad had hired.
If he found out I’d been sneaking out to learn to hit people, he’d probably chain me to the fucking bed.
Violence wasn’t very ladylike apparently.
There was a knock at the door and our housekeeper, Estelle, poked her head in with a warm smile. She was probably the only person to ever give a shit about me.
“Are you hungry, Penelope? I can bring you something.”
She’d already checked on me multiple times, acting like she hadn’t fed me a few hours ago. I hated that she didn’t call me by my preferred name, Penn, but Dad was ruthless with rules.
I didn’t want her to be fired over a stupid name.
“I’m okay. Got any gossip for me?” I crossed my legs, turning to face her. “Anyone have a secret lovechild this week? New divorce? Bankruptcy?”
Estelle always kept me in the loop. I had a bunch of dirt on those rich cunts downstairs, probably enough to shut them all down.
“Mr. Grande’s been arrested for trafficking children,” she said casually. It was normal amongst our circles for people to have their hands in bad businesses. I was disgusted to know my Dad played a part in it too. Rich people were fucked in the head. “Everyone’s spooked. He was the head of their operation.”
“Who ratted him out?” It was common for the rich to turn on each other sometimes. He pissed a lot of people off, so I wasn’t surprised.
“He’s lucky he’s in a cell and not a shallow grave. Those criminal crews in Ashburn Valley stumbled across him,” she said, clicking her tongue. “We all know how they deal with people working in the sex trafficking industry.”
“They’re my idols,” I grinned, getting to my feet to stretch. “I think they should slaughter all these corrupt rich pricks and clean up the whole country.”
Estelle rolled her eyes, used to hearing my praise for the only rich people in the world who did good with their money and connections. The Bloody Psychos and Devil’s Armada crews kept a lot of the bad guys behind bars or in the ground.
“Your father’s requested that you join him for breakfast. He needs to talk to you,” she replied, not playing into the subject of notorious criminals. “Wear the red dress that he brought back from Europe.”
I couldn’t help the snort that left me. Evening dresses at the breakfast table weren’t happening. He’d be lucky if I showed up with pants on considering breakfast for him was at six in the morning.
