Chapter 1
AURORA
TWENTY-THREE YEARS LATER—PRESENT DAY
Being twenty-two and locked up like a damn prisoner has to be the biggest joke ever.
Wait, no. It’s not a joke. It’s my life, being trapped in a cage disguised as a home.
Every now and then, though, they crack the door open. Then, on the rare occasions I’m actually allowed out of this mansion from hell, it’s never real freedom. There’s always a security detail breathing down my neck the second I step outside.
Unless I outsmart them. Which I do, much to my adoptive parents’ dismay.
Shoplifting is my rebellion. It’s how I pay them back for the constant abuse they put me through at home.
Since I’m only allowed on shopping trips—always far enough away that I won’t run into my parents’ acquaintances—I spend hours pretending to browse. Once I’m ready, when no one’s paying attention, I shove clothes or whatever I can find into my bag. Not to run away, but to get caught.
The only time my parents even agree to let me out of here is when I scream at the top of my lungs for hours.
Sure, they could silence me forever by locking me in the basement and throwing away the key.
But if I died there, in their home, they’d have a lot of explaining to do, filthy rich or not. Besides, they have other plans for me.
Mom’s plan isn’t an obvious one. I just think she wants me dead. Whenever I leave the house, I get the feeling she hopes I’ll be kidnapped or end up in a car crash that finally takes me out. I see it in the way she watches me when I leave the house—calm, smirking. Hopeful.
She’d never admit it. Never tell Dad. Because she’d never go against his wishes, and his depraved, fucked-up idea of a wish is marrying me off.
He can’t do that if I’m dead.
Besides, if I’m dead, they’d have a lot of explaining to do.
I hang my head in defeat, eyes fixed on the plush white rug in my bedroom. Not that the cops would care. Not my nonexistent friends. I was never allowed to go to school, college, or work.
The staff here doesn’t give a damn about me either.
My only hope is my parents’ rich asshole friends, the secret group they call Royalty. They’ve seen me about a dozen times in my life. Though it’s not much, they’d notice if I suddenly stopped showing up to the mandatory once-a-year meeting.
The one my parents make me go to prove that I’m alive.
The other families’ kids are there all the time, attending the bi-monthly meetings everyone’s obligated to. At least, that’s what I overheard Mom say.
It’s not like I’d ever know it from talking to them.
Other than common courtesy, I’m not allowed to talk to anyone from the other three families.
But I do know a little about them. That information, too, I’ve gathered from overhearing my parents.
There are the Bernards, who own one of the largest media conglomerates in the country. The Hales, who run a PR firm that spins for celebrities, politicians, and billionaires, keeping their secrets close, and using them as leverage when the time is right.
And the Alders. Or really, the Alder.
Everett Alder. Hot. Silent. Impossible to read. He stepped down from one of the most powerful law firms in the country—the same firm that’s been representing me since I started getting arrested—to become a judge at thirty-two.
So, no, I don’t see him when I go over there.
When I do catch a glimpse of him at the Royalty meetings, I can’t help myself. I stalk him. The man with the most gorgeous thick brown hair that’s cut short on the sides, longer on top, barely speaks to anyone besides Stafford Hale.
The rest of us get nothing but scowls. His gray eyes are cold. Cruel. I like how sharp he seems.
A ripple of nerves runs through me when his intense gaze lands on me.
He terrifies me and turns me on simultaneously.
I wish…sigh. Wishing is pointless.
Mom and Dad will always make sure that I’m back here, no matter what. They smooth it over. Quiet it down. When their bribes work on the police, the store owners, the courts, I’m out before sunrise.
They failed twice. Only twice have I been found guilty and sentenced to serve time in prison.
Maybe this time, they’ll fail too. Or I’ll be back here. In this hell.
You know what? Fuck it.
I shake off every depressing thought and force a smile, one that feels more like a grimace. Then I look out the window at the sprawling lawns outside my bedroom. The gardens are perfectly manicured. The skies are clear and a gorgeous shade of blue.
Unlike my parents’ faces, which must be crimson red while they wait for me outside. The color of hate that they wear so well, especially on court days.
I hate them just as much.
Ugh. Please, God, if you’re up there, let me lose this case today. Let them sentence me to a few days inside, or even a couple of months. Anything other than being here.
“Aurora Coraline Clarke,” my mother screams.
I slap a hand over my mouth before she hears me gasp, scolding myself for the knee-jerk reaction.
She jiggles my door’s handle, huffing exasperatedly to find it locked. “You better be ready in ten, or else.”
Fuck her and her tyranny. My time here might be limited, but if all I’ve got is this last chance to piss her off, I’ll take it.
Let her feel a fraction of the pain she’s caused me. All those days in the basement. Of being seconds from losing my mind.
She’s earned this little rebellion. Without telling her I’ve been ready for the past hour, I walk over to the full-body mirror on the other side of my bedroom, passing my antique sofa on my ridiculous black heels.
“Aurora!”
“I’ll be there.” My teeth knock together. I won’t let her hear it in my voice.
“As in now.”
“Go to hell,” I whisper, and turn to the mirror where I focus on my reflection and not that witch.
My chocolate-brown hair is twisted into a bun at my nape.
My makeup is minimalistic yet immaculate. Nothing more than thick mascara to frame my light blue eyes and a neutral lipstick to match my cream-colored skirt suit.
Mom bangs on the door. “You’re taking too long!”
“Says who?” I taunt her, forcing a grin onto my face.
I’m not to blame for this. For losing my mind. For trying to get back at my parents every chance I get.
It’s their fault. They’re the reason I’m like this.
They made me this way. My criminal track record—the reason every wealthy, influential man turns them down—is all because they forced my hand.
Not that I’d ever let them marry me off, no matter how much I hear them conspiring about it around the house. I’d slit my parents’ throats and the groom’s before anyone ever puts a ring on me.
I fucking dare them.
I might’ve been reduced to a shadow of a woman who rarely fights and talks back, but enough is enough.
Even if it means marrying some stranger is my ticket out of here, I won’t bend over backwards just so they’ll be happy.
Besides, there’s no doubt, whomever they choose for me, will be just as sadistic, as evil as they are.
He definitely won’t be the man I dream about late at night.
“Says me.” My dad, Winston, tries the handle as well. His blue eyes, which remind me of mine, must be boring holes into the door. “Let’s get this over with already. I have meetings to attend, business to run. My world doesn’t revolve around you, Aurora.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I whisper.
I wish he’d forgotten I existed altogether. That he’d let me out of this mansion.
I would’ve gone to college. I would’ve gotten a job.
Or I would’ve done neither.
It should be my choice. It isn’t.
From the day my mother left me on this couple’s doorstep with nothing but a thank you note, I’ve never had a single choice. None.
The ride to the courthouse was uneventful, primarily thanks to my parents’ absence.
Turns out, my guardian angel decided to show up for once.
Mom’s aunt tripped down the stairs and was rushed to the hospital.
Since appearances are the only thing that matter to Winston and Molly, they took another car to visit her there.
I should probably feel bad, and yet all I can muster is relief.
Without them looming over every word and breath, I feel a sliver more human, sitting here, in this bench trial, next to one of the most expensive defense attorneys in the country, Larry Nelson.
Surprisingly, he isn’t one of our usual lawyers.
Every associate and partner at Alder’s firm has been too busy to take my case, which leaves me with Larry.
Weird, considering they have a shit ton of people working there.
But what do I know?
Basically nothing.
Not just about Alder’s firm. What used to be his, anyway.
I’m talking about law. Life. Everything.
My tutors stopped showing up after I got my high school diploma through homeschooling. I don’t have access to textbooks.
The ones I bought at the mall were tossed in the trash the minute I got home.
God forbid I get educated. God forbid I form my own opinion about anything.
Sigh.
Other than Larry, my security detail lingers near the rear exit, eyes sharp and posture tense.
The rest of the court is bustling with people waiting to appear before the judge today.
She’s a beautiful woman, her gray hair cut in an immaculate bob that frames a sharp face. Her blue eyes hold the kind of authority that makes people sit straighter.
“Judge is an old friend from law school,” my attorney reminds me of his connections. Boasting, really. “You’re looking at the bare minimum here, if she doesn’t throw this case out entirely.”
Minimum, as in three months at most, with a third deducted for good behavior.
Sigh.
I could really use something like, what? Six months inside?
Six months with other inmates who aren’t my parents. At least around them, I’m an equal. That’s always a breath of fresh air.
“Aurora?” His emerald-green eyes narrow, his breath smelling of stale cigarettes.
“Cool.” As inconspicuously as possible, I scoot away from him. “Thanks.”
He gives me a brisk nod. “You’re up next.”
“Great.” I smooth my suit jacket. My skirt. “Let’s get this over with.”