Tangled in Vows (Tangled & Torn #2)

Tangled in Lies - Chapter One

EVANGELINE

My phone chimes a few feet away on my bed, and I freeze.

There’s only one contact I assigned the creepy sound to, and it immediately gives me the proper reaction the person behind the number deserves: a pounding heart, trouble breathing, and a lot of gut-wrenching nausea.

The phone is buried under several financial management textbooks, and I reach for it with a shaky hand. But before I can read the message, there’s a knock on the door.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

I grab the phone and push it into the side pocket of my leggings just as the door swings open, and my best friend, Ruby, waltzes in with her fluffy pink bathrobe floating behind her and her hair twisted in a towel atop her head. Even in this getup, she’s dazzling.

She stops in her tracks when her gaze settles on me, her eyes wide. “Evangeline Caldwell, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I take a steadying breath and shrug, not trusting my voice.

Ruby tilts her head toward the open door and yells, “Mason.”

Great, now I really need to make sure my poker face is in position.

One best friend is hard enough to fool, but both of them together? It will take a little miracle.

Mason, our third roommate, joins us. One glance at me, and his eyebrows dip. “Did someone die?”

The second I turned eighteen, I bought a house and asked my two best friends if they wanted to move in with me for college. It’s nothing like the million-dollar mansions we grew up in, but big enough to accommodate a large family. Thank goodness my parents have given me a significant allowance ever since I was a teen, and I actually listened to my sister and saved as much of it as possible so I could buy a house when I was old enough and could get out from under my parents’ thumb.

Ruby smacks him on the arm. “No one died, you sourpuss.” She leans my way and whispers, “Right?”

I shake my head. “No one died, no.”

At least, I hope not.

Mason gestures from me to my bed and back to me again. “Why on earth are you sitting here, looking like that , and doing this then?”

I assume by that he means my slightly unkempt appearance, or at least I’m sure I don’t look my finest. I haven’t taken a shower yet or touched a hairbrush to appear more human.

And this is the scattered schoolwork around me on my crumpled duvet.

I glance at the clock on my bookshelf. “I still have time. We don’t have to leave for another two and a half hours.”

Ruby sighs like I just confessed I prefer to hang the toilet paper roll under. “The makeup and hair stylists will be here in about half an hour.”

My brows draw together. “Huh?”

“Didn’t your mom tell you she booked a team for us? There will be photographers at the party.”

I shake my head to indicate I didn’t have a clue and because I can’t—and don’t—want to deal with this right now. None of it.

I’m not a masochist, so being stuffed in a room with a bunch of people I mostly don’t care about sounds like torture. It’s almost impossible to feel anything but dread over it, especially after receiving a text message from Freddy . I’m sure he’ll try to ruin my life even more than he already has.

You’re almost there, Eve. Next year, you’re done with school, and you can finally leave this place to work overseas.

Mason’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I catch the end of whatever he’s saying. “Well, you only turn twenty-one once, and we all know that public image is at the top of the priority list for our parents.”

“Right alongside making more money than we’ll ever know what to do with,” Ruby chimes in.

He raises his brows. “That goes without saying.”

I only half listen to their conversation because my brain is still stuck on something Mason said.

“You only turn twenty-one once.”

If you make it to that point.

I’m now officially older than my sister was. She only had a few more days until her twenty-first birthday.

My gaze automatically moves to my shelf and the picture of my sister and me. People always thought we were twins, although she was three years older. I never saw it. Her hair was golden brown, whereas mine is almost black, and she had our dad’s dark-blue eyes, whereas I inherited my mom’s brown ones.

Our smiles were similar, though, and we looked so happy in the picture. It was taken just months before everything went to shit. We had our differences, especially toward the end, but she was my sister, and I still miss her like crazy.

You can’t change what happened.

“Evie.”

I start and gape at Mason with wide eyes.

“You okay?” His voice is soft and gentle.

The lump in my throat is almost impossible to swallow, but I manage after several tries. “Yeah, sorry. Long day of studying.”

Because we’ve been best friends for ten years, I don’t need to look at them to know they don’t believe a single word I’m saying, just like they know I won’t tell them anything if I’m not ready.

It’s become an unspoken rule among us over the last few years.

Even if I wanted to tell them what was happening, I couldn’t. Not without someone paying the price for it.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Ruby grabs my hand and pulls me off the bed while Mason attacks the mess on my duvet, gathering all of my schoolwork and putting it in a neat pile on my desk. Then he disappears in my closet for a moment and returns with my glittering designer dress in one hand and matching shoes in the other.

He smiles at me. “You’ll be stunning in this.”

Somehow, I muster a smile back. “Thank you.”

Like me, Mason is the victim of ultra-wealthy parents with no time for him but all the expectations. Sometimes, it makes him a brat but with a heart of gold.

Ruby taps a finger on her wrist. “You have twenty minutes to shower, birthday girl. Hurry.”

They escort me to my en suite bathroom like I’m a kindergartener.

My phone replays the awful notification sound for the unread message in my pocket as Ruby shuts the door. Not quick enough though. I still see the worried glance they exchange.

As usual, I’m alone with my thoughts and a sense of dread that always goes hand in hand whenever I receive messages from him . My stalker, my tormenter, the man who’s single-handedly brought so much destruction to my life and others that I can barely hold myself upright some days.

When he started messaging me, he told me to call him Devil, but I saved his number under Freddy. Like Freddy Krueger, my personal nightmare come to life.

Freddy

Happy birthday, pet. Enjoy your party tonight. There will be a surprise waiting for you.

The message vanishes shortly after, like it does every time, and the phone clangs to the floor. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as disappearing messages until I got my first one from Freddy, and it was gone after a few minutes. My stomach lurches at the memory, and I barely reach the toilet in time to empty my stomach contents. I allow myself two minutes to freak out on the bathroom floor. After that, I pick myself back up and take a shower.

I’ll get through this day like any other day.

Three hours later, we’re at my parents’ estate. I’m primped and preened, ready to face the elite of Ansonville, New York, who my parents value above all else. Or at least, they like to pretend they do. Behind the curtain, there’s nothing but gossiping, backstabbing, and swindling people out of their money to enrich us further.

My stomach roils, and every cell in my body is telling me to turn around and escape. To hide somewhere, to pretend Freddy didn’t message me about a surprise. Coming from him, it can’t be good.

Sadly, my brother is by my side the second we walk into the ballroom of my parents’ estate. “Happy birthday, Evangeline.”

That’s all he says and all I’m going to get. We’re basically strangers, always have been.

Everything around me immediately adds to my discomfort: the noise of the crowd, the change from cool evening air to humid, this packed room, the overwhelming smell of food.

I inhale deeply and dip my chin. “Thank you.”

A photographer from the society pages stops us, and we pose for a photo together. My parents’ friends smile at us from all sides, wishing me a happy birthday. Not that any of them are actually here for me. A waiter walks by us with a tray of champagne, but I shake my head when Alex tries to hand me one.

“I’ll get one later.”

He only shrugs and takes a sip of his.

Much to our father’s delight, Alex is also the spitting image of him: tall, lean, with brown hair that’s almost black, and dark-blue eyes. On the other hand, I lean more toward my mom with her average height, brown eyes, olive skin, and curves—that she pretends to love for the public but secretly hates.

While it’s easy to spot the family resemblance between Alex and me, we might as well have grown up in two families on opposite sides of the world instead of the same house for how estranged we are. Alex is living proof of how astute my father and his grooming skills are, at least as long as he’s dealt with a child who worships him and is easy to influence.

Which is not me.

Consequently, Alex has pretty much ignored me ever since my parents discovered I’m not like my older siblings. I have zero interest in the family business or playing an overzealous socialite.

There is no room in the Caldwell family for a child who would much rather “make noise”—as my parents used to call my music behind closed doors—than shove my nose in a book and talk about economic statistics or the future of the global financial market.

I disappointed the family, and they do their best to ignore me as much as possible.

And after what happened to my sister, they’ve barely been able to look at me for more than a few seconds.

Not that I blame them. They all heard our fight that dreadful night three years ago.

“I hope one day you can forgive me, Angie.”

The parting words my sister whispered to me before she sped off in her car will forever haunt me.

Her last words.

It’s a miracle I have people in my life who talk to me, let alone care about me, like Mason and Ruby.

That’s because they don’t know what you did.

As if summoned, my friends walk up next to me, giving me reassuring squeezes on my hand and shoulder. It’s enough to drag me out of my destructive thoughts.

Alex steers me past tables with elaborate floral decorations and toward our parents, who are already waiting for us on the other side of the room with fake smiles. As always, they are ideally situated in front of the thick velvet drapes over large gold-rimmed French windows. My mom once told me it’s the perfect backdrop for pictures because it makes her skin glow.

I’ve never seen her as disappointed as when I didn’t share her enthusiasm at that moment.

By now, my parents know I hate gatherings like this and I most likely won’t last more than an hour. The only saving grace is no one will miss me when I disappear.

My mom’s gaze travels over my meticulous makeup and lavish curls, down to my perfectly fitted floor-length designer dress and the thin heels that show with every step I take on the polished hardwood floors, due to the generous slit in the skirt.

Her smile doesn’t falter as I approach, which is as much of a sign that nothing is amiss with my appearance as any word could be.

She wraps her arms around me when I’m within reach and squeezes. “Happy birthday, Evangeline.”

For those fleeting few seconds, I close my eyes and take in as much of her warmth and familiar scent of roses as possible. My dad clears his throat loudly, and the rare moment is over.

All noise in the room immediately ceases, everyone’s focus shifting to him.

“We’ve gathered today to celebrate the birthday of our beautiful daughter, Evangeline. May this evening be a celebration of joy, love, and family.”

The crowd erupts into applause. My dad’s gaze lands on me for half a breath, and he’s back to his speech.

“Furthermore, I’d also like tonight to stand for forgiveness and community as we welcome home one of our own.”

Murmurs erupt around us at his declaration.

I search for Ruby and Mason, who only shrug when I find them standing to the side a few feet away.

My dad raises his champagne glass. “We’re glad you’re back, Son. Welcome home.”

Someone in the back raises their glass as well, and I get my first glimpse of the man. My stomach roils so violently I grab on to my brother’s arm to keep myself upright.

Phoenix Montgomery.

My dad continues to talk, but everything sounds like I’m underwater.

The crowd parts for Phoenix. He casually makes his way over to us with a smile plastered on his stupidly handsome face—the same sharp jawline, straight nose, and well-defined outline of his mouth with the small scar on his upper lip that always added to his male beauty.

Meanwhile, my heart is trying to pull the plug on itself.

This is impossible.

This can’t be happening.

Yet, he’s almost reached us like this is just another ordinary day.

And he definitely fits right in too, clad in a pristine black suit.

Have his shoulders always been this wide though?

I don’t notice much else about his body, or our surroundings. I’m transfixed. Unable to avert my gaze from his face.

The dark depths of his eyes are holding me hostage, and he stares at me with nothing but warmth in them.

There will be a surprise waiting for you.

The words from Freddy’s text message filter back into my head.

I knew it couldn’t be anything good, but I didn’t expect it to be this fucked up.

Phoenix Montgomery is my surprise.

My dead sister’s fiancé.

The man who was in prison for the last three years.

And he has no idea I’m the one who put him there.