Chapter 2 #2
At first, by my mother, who had been a brilliant scholar. But after she passed from a heart attack when I was five, my dad hired a teacher to educate me five days a week.
I didn’t know there had been a spotlight he lived in outside of our house. I didn’t know he had spent countless resources and time keeping me safe from the vultures of his career.
No one knows there was ever a Chamberlain daughter—an heiress, if you must—and I doubt anyone ever will. Besides, Adrianna destroyed my dad’s legacy, at least the money and businesses, selling everything off to fill her pockets. Her greed only worsened with time.
My homeschool teacher was the only part of my old lifestyle that Adrianna kept, because she didn’t want me in the public eye more than I had to be. And she paid the teacher enough to keep her emotional distance from me, and her mouth shut about my existence.
The only asset she’s ever held on to is my mom and dad’s house, but I think she knew that, one day, she could use that against me, to do her bidding. She was right.
Recently, her well began to run dry, and when she ran into Everett Kensington at a recent charity gala—which she got into by using our last name—this scheme formed in her mind.
There are no lies between Adrianna and me anymore, no charade. I know exactly who she is.
She thinks I’ll get in the way of her engagement to Mr. Kensington. I think it’s just easier for her to keep me in the shadows, where I’ve always been. Besides, I may be the only person in this world who knows who she really is.
Once the next month is over, once she’s secured her marriage to Everett Kensington and she finally signs over the deed of my parents’ house to me, I can be free of her.
But until that time comes, I will continue to be her pawn, pretending that I don’t know her, keeping my head down, and focusing on my future.
Which is all I think about as Jules and I finish our morning chores before heading back to the staff wing.
As we meander down to the floor Jules’s and my suite is on, she throws her arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “I’m so glad it’s you who filled the position and as my suite mate. My last one was so uptight and kind of a bitch, so it’snice that you’re not … well, that.”
“I’m glad too.” I chuckle, leaning into her touch, but I don’t feel any warmth, not deeper than the surface of my skin.
I’m not sure why. It’s just been that way for so long.
I don’t remember the last time my bones truly warmed. Maybe a hug from my dad.
I enter the code into the keypad on my door, hearing it unlock. Twisting the knob, I push it open, and my eyes bulge out of my head.
My body freezes in place, and without thinking, I shove Jules back into the hallway so there’s no chance of her seeing who is lurking inside.
“Oww. What are you doing?” She gasps, stumbling backward.
Panic floods me, anxiety taking the reins of every cell inside me. “It’s not ready yet! The dress isn’t ready! I’ll show you tomorrow. I promise.”
“What? I’m sure it’s—”
Slipping inside, I shut and lock the door, cutting her off mid-sentence, not giving her a chance to argue or weasel inside.
“Cirella!” Jules calls out. “Ugh. Text me, you brat!”
Her footsteps fade away, and I finally bring myself to address the elephant in the room.
“How did you get in here?” My arms cross over my body, palms caressing my abdomen for any sense of comfort, my thumb softly brushing back and forth.
“Is that any way to greet your mother?” Adrianna’s evil smile stretches across her red-painted lips.
“You’re not my mother.” My voice is small, shrunken down, and weak.
I don’t even mean to do it. I wish I wouldn’t. But I know fighting with her and pushing back will only do more harm. Talking back to her at all is risky enough, and I’m sure she’ll be punishing me for it how she sees fit.
Her mouth curls, and she steps toward me, gripping my jaw in her iron grasp. “Watch your mouth, you little rat. How dare you?!”
Tighter and tighter, she squeezes, hard enough until tears form in my eyes. But I don’t make a sound or a peep. It’ll only make this all worse.
“I’m doing you a favor by letting you work here—don’t forget that. The next time you disrespect me, I’ll add another Chamberlain family trinket to the pile of broken glass in that house. Is that what you want? To destroy what you have left of your family?” she threatens.
If I wasn’t one hundred percent certain she’d follow through, I’d spit in her face.
She’s the only one with keys to my family home. She’s the one with the power. Her name is on the deed. I just have to get through this next month.
“I-I’m sorry.” My voice breaks, tears tipping over the edge of my lashes and rolling down my cheeks.
No sorrow or empathy shows in her gaze, only hatred.
“Good. I just came to see the progress on my gown. You’d better have it done in time for the party, or I will burn that house to the ground.
” Tightening her grip once more, she mocks the fake name she’s forcing me to use.
“I mean it, Cirella Matthews,” she sneers, “if you fail me, I will burn everything you care about until only ash remains. And then I’ll bury you with it. Right where you belong.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” I whisper.
She releases me, and my head falls, my eyes following, avoiding her gaze at all costs. My skin hums, vibrating with anxious anticipation.
My eyes squeeze tightly, ready for her strike.
Will she slap me like last time? Or lock me out of the house for a night like she used to when I was younger?
But thankfully, a beat of nothing passes, and I open my eyes, finding her striding toward the door. “Two days. Finish it.”
She storms out, slamming the door behind her, not bothering if anyone hears. Which seems awfully counterproductive if she plans on keeping me as her secret.
A knock sounds on the door, and I jump, not realizing my hand was massaging the ache of my jaw.
I tiptoe over to the door and pull it open without a word, letting her get her final jab in before she goes.
“Ciri?” Jules’s kind voice caresses me.
Shit, she can’t find out.
“What’s up?” I try to keep my tone even, but I know that I fail desperately. Besides, the tears on my cheeks and the assumed redness of my neck are dead giveaways.
I slowly glance up, finding Jules and Myra Ravi–her mom and our boss–standing in the doorway.
Jules’s brown eyes study me, as if she knows something she shouldn’t. “We overheard …”
My stomach drops. “Overheard w-what?”
Twiddling her thumbs, she winces. “Kind of everything.” She swallows hard, a question on the tip of her tongue. “Is Ms. Chamberlain your mom?”
Crap.
I have two choices here. I can tell her she is confused and doesn’t understand what she heard. Or I can tell my only friend the truth.
I shouldn’t.
It’s selfish and wrong.
I made a deal, and I ought to keep that.
But I push my door open anyway … letting Jules and Myra wander inside to officially meet the real me for the first time.
And I tell them everything, more than I should, but once I start, I can’t stop. It pours out of me, and by the time I finish, I’m a heaping pile of tears and vulnerability.
I expect them to tell me to get over it, that this is what I deserve. That I’m weak for crying and for needing comfort.
But they don’t. Instead, they hold me while I come undone, every button that’s held me together bursting at the seams.
When the vulnerability turns to stomach-churning anxiety, they don’t shove me away or take advantage. They hug me tighter.
Myra cups my face, wiping away my tears. “You deserve to live out of the shadows, Ciri.”
Her words echo in my mind.
I deserve to live out of the shadows.