Prologue #2
I jerk my head toward him and stare up at the horrible man.
The rumors of him aren’t nice, but because he’s a man, no one cares.
Rich men are allowed to be assholes. They’re allowed to abuse the women they date, have scandals, and test the waters with drugs and alcohol.
No one reprimands them. No one dares tell them no.
“How about you go fuck yourself?” I hiss between my teeth even as I smile for the cameras going off.
He chuckles, like he’s delighted to have a horse he can break. I’m in danger. Oh god, I’m in real danger.
The rest of the party passes in a blur. Too many people come up to tell me congratulations, not once asking me my thoughts.
Albie floats around the room, flicking worried glances my way throughout the night, as if he expects me to explode.
I half expect myself to explode. Only my etiquette training keeps me functioning through fear.
The moment we walk back into the mansion too big to ever feel like a home, I turn on my father and spit the words I’ve been holding in all night. “I’m not marrying him.”
“You will,” Father says, not even bothering to look my way as he removes his cuff links. “It’s your duty.”
“And what about what I want?” I spit. “You’ve heard the rumors. He’s dangerous and—”
“Don’t be selfish, Juliet,” he chastises, unconcerned for my safety. “You’re a Ward, which means it’s about what’s good for the family, not about what you want.”
Panic sets in. I can’t do this. I thought I had more time. “I won’t marry him,” I snarl. “You can’t make me.”
He levels his gaze on me, and I nearly shrivel in on myself. “Can’t I?”
All the rumors about my own family flash through my mind then, about the kind of shit my family quietly participates in, shit I’ve never gone searching for, shit I want nothing to do with. I don’t want to be a Ward. I just want to be Jules.
I straighten and tip up my chin, understanding the threat, understanding I will never change his mind.
He’s made this arrangement purely for political gain and power.
A merging between the Ward family and the Harringtons that solidifies connections in the 27 Foundation.
Father will never lose an election again. He’s made sure of it.
“Good,” he says, smirking. Still, it never reaches his eyes. “Make sure to avoid the black clothing from earlier so we don’t have a repeat of it. Good Christian girls don’t wear black, and good wives obey. It’s best you learn it now before you become one.”
And then he leaves me standing there in a house that feels more like a cage than ever.
My mother looks at me with dead eyes and then moves to follow him, not willing to get reprimanded for her own daughter.
She’s never been willing to sacrifice anything for us.
She’s too busy trying to survive herself.
Albie threads his arm through mine and drags me up the stairs.
I barely remember the steps as we move silently through the big house that’s covered in cameras.
The only safe place is our rooms. There are no cameras there, mostly because father wouldn’t want those videos and photos getting out, not because he cares about our privacy.
As soon as my bedroom door is closed, Albie grabs my shoulders. “Say something,” he begs. I must look scary right now.
I meet eyes that are an exact copy of my own, eyes that belong to our father. The Wards always have these eyes. It’s a dominant trait that reminds us we can’t escape.
“I have to go,” I whisper, afraid someone will hear me.
His eyes widen. “But Jules—”
“If I stay, he’ll marry me off to that asshole,” I croak. “Albie, you’ve heard the rumors. I won’t survive it. You know I won’t.”
He clenches his jaw. “There’s nowhere you can run he won’t find you.”
“I can do it,” I reassure him. And I’m confident I can. This isn’t a one-off decision. I’ve thought about this for years, looked into the mechanics of it. I’ll do what I have to do, but I can’t stay here. I can’t be a Ward any longer.
He looks at me, and I know he sees my decision made. “Okay,” he breathes out, and reaches for a backpack. “Essentials only. Leave electronics behind.”
“You could come with me,” I try.
He shakes his head. “I’m not in immediate danger. Besides, who else is going to tell you when he gets too close?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flip phone. “I got this to chat with Deigo without being spied on. It’s unhackable apparently. I’ll get another. I’ll call you once I do.”
My eyes well. “What am I gonna do without you?”
He smiles gently and drags me into a brutal hug. He doesn’t cry—he’s almost lost the ability for that—but I can feel all his emotion in that hug.
“I don’t want to leave you here in this prison,” I choke out, squeezing him back.
“It’s not a prison for me in the same way, Jules. Don’t worry. I’ll be able to step out of the cage soon. And then you can come back.”
I sob as I pack my backpack. Great, big, ugly tears drip down my face as I grab what I can.
Essentials only. A few pairs of sensible clothing.
The jewelry worth anything that I can sell.
The cash I’ve been stashing away. Toiletries.
And finally, a picture of me and Albie together that I have framed on my desk.
That’s it. That’s all I get to take away from this life.
I wait until everyone goes to sleep, and then Albie helps me slip from the back door without the cameras seeing, the pathway we’ve followed a million times to avoid being seen. When you’ve grown up under the eyes of cameras, you learn where they don’t look fast. And I use that to my advantage now.
Before anyone even thinks to check for me, I’m long gone . . .