Chapter 4
HARPER-RAYN
Okay, so leaving my car at work when I have to trek out to my mother’s fancy gated community probably wasn’t my brightest idea. But in my defense, running away from it like a mad woman was a necessity at the time. Right now though, I’m definitely starting to regret it.
Mom lives with Elias in their big, shiny mansion thirty minutes from the city.
They’ve spent the last eighteen months renovating, and the amount of money Elias dumped into this place to make Mom happy is absurd.
I suppose when you have that kind of disposable income, a home renovation is a blip on the radar, and how can you put a price tag on keeping your new wife happy?
My Uber pulls up at the main entrance of the gated community, and I lean out the back window to enter my code. The little light flashes green and the gates slowly begin to peel open as I laugh to myself. I’d almost expected the code not to work.
The Uber driver hits the gas, and we sail through the main entrance of the gated community, and I find myself staring out the window. This area never ceases to amaze me. Don’t get me wrong, just because I’m not frothing at the mouth at my mother’s conquests doesn’t mean I’m unfazed by it all.
All of these properties are incredible, and I rarely get to see them at night.
During the day, they’re just massive homes, hidden behind manicured hedges and elaborate gates, but at night, they’re lit up like the Fourth of July.
Lighting is built into the landscaping and architecture, and it’s absolutely flawless.
It takes my breath away, and while I’ll never be the girl who strives to own something like this, I will always appreciate its beauty.
My driver pulls up at my mother’s home, and as he parks against the curb, dread settles heavily in the pit of my stomach.
I would prefer to cover myself in peanut butter and wander into the woods with the bears than to set foot inside this property, but the consequences of not showing my face far outweigh the consequences of being mauled by a hungry bear.
On second thought, maybe not. Either way, I’ll still be mauled by a rabid animal.
After thanking my driver, I step out onto the sidewalk and grimace as I stare up at my mother’s elaborate property.
There’s no denying it’s incredible. It’s just like all the others within this community.
The only difference between this home and the others is that behind the beautiful double doors is a monster wearing Manolo Blahnik heels and a venomous smile.
She’s poised and ready to strike the moment I enter.
In fact, I can’t remember a time when she hasn’t belittled me, looked down on me, or spoken to me as if my accomplishments were trivial.
Here’s hoping that my outfit tonight might temporarily disarm her.
Ha! What a joke.
Approaching the gate at the bottom of their long driveway, I’m momentarily surprised to see they have security marking off names.
I hadn’t expected them to go to such extremes for something as trivial as a dinner party for their wedding anniversary.
It’s not as though they’ve invited royalty, just their snobby elitist friends, colleagues, and then of course, family as an afterthought.
A man in a black suit steps forward, holding a tablet. “Name,” he murmurs, looking bored.
“Harper-Rayn Madden.”
He nods in acknowledgment before dropping his gaze to the tablet, and I watch in astonishment as his finger scrolls through a long list. Any moment, he’ll find my name and give me the go-ahead, but as the seconds tick by, I start to wonder if my mother even remembered to add my name to the guest list.
A few more seconds pass, and I’m starting to get offended at this point. I mean, shit. How far down the list did she put me?
“Ahh, here you are,” the security guard says a moment later. “Go on through, Miss Madden.”
“Gee, thanks,” I murmur.
Slapping on a fake smile while mentally preparing my body armor, I put one foot in front of the other and head up the long driveway. I feel as though I’ve run a marathon by the time I reach the front door, only as I go to knock, I find myself hesitating. I could still make a break for it.
A swan dive into a forward roll across the lawn, which would turn into a commando crawl beneath the prickly hedges. That certainly sounds better than walking through this door. But would it really be worth the hell I’d pay for not showing up?
Not even close.
Nerves capture me in a chokehold before I finally lift my hand and knock against the heavy wood, ignoring the fancy ornate knocker that looks freshly installed. I blow out a breath, but before I can even take another, the huge door swings open to reveal my mom’s beaming billionaire husband.
Elias Slater.
He stares back at me, offering me a forced smile which quickly turns into a moment of awkward silence between us.
The two of us have never meshed well. I don’t have anything against him, I just don’t know him.
Nor has he gone out of his way to get to know me either, but I prefer it this way.
After all, what’s the point? In a few years, my mother will find someone impossibly richer and Elias will be an afterthought.
Come to think of it, I wonder how tight that prenup was. I’d love to get my hands on a copy of that, if only for a few seconds.
“Harper,” Elias booms, his forced smile morphing into something a little more genuine. “How lovely to see you again.”
“Uhh, thanks,” I say, feeling just as awkward as his greeting.
The words have barely left my mouth before my mother steps into Elias’ side, her face already scrunched with irritation.
She doesn’t say a word, just stares at me, her gaze starting at my face before dropping to my body and scanning over every inch of me.
“Oh,” she says, sounding off guard. “You’re uhhh .
. . It’s nice to see you actually put a little bit of care into your appearance for a change. ”
“Good to see you too, Mom.”
“Would it kill you to at least pretend to be happy to see me?” she murmurs, stepping in closer and keeping her tone low. “Everybody is here. Do not cause a scene.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Her lips press into a hard line, and she drops her gaze down my body again, the judgment in her eyes stinging like a bee. And with that, she lets out a huff of disapproval, plasters a fake smile across her face, and turns on her heel to return to her many guests.
I’m left hovering in the open doorway with Elias, and he attempts another welcoming smile. “Don’t take it to heart,” he says almost like a coo. “Your mother loves you. She’s just nervous about the party. She’s put so much effort into making tonight perfect.”
“Right.”
“Why don’t you come on in? Make yourself at home and mingle. Your brother is here somewhere,” he tells me. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you again. How long has it been? Two? Three years?”
Jonah is here?
It was nice of him to call and let me know he was coming. I could have bought something for the kids, maybe arranged some time to catch up after the bullshit parade Mom insists on putting on.
“Three,” I confirm with a cringe.
Jonah and I have a strange relationship.
We’ve never had a falling out, but we’ve never gone out of our way to build a healthy relationship either.
Jonah was always the kid who could do no wrong.
He was the perfect big brother who set the bar so impossibly high that I didn’t stand a chance of trying to reach it. Next to him, I was always pathetic.
He was the favorite. He was coddled and swooned over, celebrated and loved. While I was nothing but a disappointment—the stain on Mom’s shimmering reputation. I’ve always resented Jonah because of it, and that resentment forced a huge wedge between us.
I do what I can to avoid him because the reminder of how inferior I am stings too much. At the same time, Jonah goes out of his way to avoid Mom because the pressure of always having to be perfect is suffocating.
He lives out of state with his wife and twin daughters, raising them in a way that is nothing at all like how we were raised. He’s a great father, the kind I always wished we had growing up, and his wife, Emily, is simply beautiful. Inside and out.
His avoidance of Mom is partially why I haven’t seen him in three years, but I can’t pretend it’s all on him. We’re just shitty siblings. There’s nothing more to it.
I give Elias an awkward smile before stepping through the open doorway. People are everywhere, and despite bringing my A game, I still feel severely underdressed. The women around me look ready for the Met Gala, and all I can do is roll my eyes. They’re aware this is just a dinner party, right?
I try to find amusement in it as I walk deeper into the lavish mansion, passing through the grand foyer and into the open living and dining area. As I gaze around, looking past the people and to the actual home, I pull myself up, my brow arching as I take it all in.
I have to give it to Mom, she certainly has the best interior decorators money could buy. This house is incredible on any given day of the week, but the team she hired to dress the table and decorate has blown it out of the water.
The long rectangular table is huge, seating at least sixty, and is set to perfection with gold and silver finishes.
Tall candle arrangements have been woven in and out of low floral sets with picturesque vases and fine china.
The low-hanging chandeliers above the table reflect against the fancy glassware, and honestly, this table is fit for royalty. It’s simply flawless.
“Well shit,” a familiar voice says from beside me, sounding just as bored as I pretend to be. “Almost didn’t recognize you without your usual sweatpants.”