Secret Princess (Princes of Devil’s Creek: Prequel)

Chapter 1

ALEX

Rocking back and forth on my closet floor, I listened as my brother banged on his bedroom wall, begging my mother to let me out. I had spent most of my life in this closet, so I carved out a space in the corner.

It wasn’t a matter of if but when I would find myself in the same spot again. I only had to breathe wrong for my mother to snap. Just the sight of me turned her into a crazed lunatic.

In the dark, your eyes naturally adjust. The pupil’s muscles expand, allowing more light into the eyes. I could see the secondhand clothes hanging above my head and the sneakers with worn soles beside me. We had only the bare essentials.

Most of the clothes were too tight, and the pants were too short. I had outgrown them four years ago, but my mother loved embarrassing me. She often commented on my appearance and laughed in my face.

I tugged on a frayed piece of carpeting to calm my nerves and closed my eyes. It would all be over soon. Eventually, she would grow bored with my brother’s screams and unlock my closet door.

“Let her out, you bitch,” Aiden shouted at our mother, slamming his fist into the wall, also locked in his bedroom.

He was the lucky one.

My mother didn’t hate my twin like she did me. He could roam around his room while I sat in the closet like an old, broken toy.

“Open this door,” Aiden demanded. “I swear to God, Mom. I will kill you if you touch a hair on her head.”

The doorbell rang.

No one ever came to our house.

My mother didn’t allow me to have friends. It wasn’t like anyone at school wanted to befriend me, anyway. I wore ratty, used clothes and lived in the ugliest house in town.

Boys at school said I was pretty for white trash. They also said I could sell my ass if I’d fatten up.

“Savanna,” a deep voice boomed, one I did not recognize. “Get out of my way, or I will throw you down the stairs.”

“No,” my mother told him. “You can’t have them. Alex and Aiden are mine.”

“Do you want your inheritance?”

What inheritance?

We lived on food stamps and charity from the church, even though my mother didn’t believe in God.

“Hand them over,” the man said.

“Dad, she’s worthless.” My mother’s voice was hoarse from all the chain-smoking. “Trust me. You don’t want her. Alex is… problematic. She has a sickness inside her.”

How dare she?

Anger flared inside my chest, blooming like a rose with sharp thorns. In her eyes, everything was my fault.

“Go downstairs,” the man growled. “I don’t want to see your face. You make me sick.”

My bedroom door creaked open, and then the closet. A massive man with white hair, dressed in a black suit, stood before me. He looked more like a king from a fairy tale than a real person.

He bent down and extended his hand. “Hello, Alexandrea. I’m your grandfather.”

My mom said her parents had died in a tragic accident. She claimed we had no family other than her and my dad.

I took his hand, and he helped me out of the closet. “What’s your name?”

“Carl,” he said with a smile. “But you can call me Pops.”

“Okay,” I muttered. “What do you want, Pops?”

Everyone in my life wanted something from me.

“I would like to adopt you and Aiden,” he said, and my heart skipped. “I know you both turn eighteen in a few days. But how would you like to live with me and become a Wellington? It is your birthright.”

“Okay,” I said. “Yes, I want to be a Wellington.”

I had no idea what that meant. I only cared about being free of my mother.

My grandfather tucked a loose curl behind my ear, and I leaned into his touch. Apart from Aiden, no one had ever shown me any form of affection.

He smelled clean and manly. I hadn’t showered since Friday morning, and not by choice. My clothing smelled like a moldy closet and body odor. If he caught a whiff, he didn’t make it known.

“Sit here for a second,” Pops said, lowering me onto my bed.

The mattress and box spring were on the floor without a frame. By morning, my back ached from the springs digging into my spine. Some nights, my mom would toss me into the closet, forcing me to sleep on the dirty shag carpeting.

Aiden stormed into my room and pulled me into his arms. “Lexie, are you okay?”

I nodded. “I am now that Pops is here.”

Aiden seemed confused, so our grandfather explained that he hadn’t known about us until recently and wanted us to move with him to Devil’s Creek.

Aiden glanced at me. “Do you want to live with him?”

“Yes. Please, Aid. Don’t say no.”

Neither of us wanted to stay here, but Aiden was afraid to trust another adult when our parents and teachers had let us down.

“Okay,” Aiden agreed, lifting me off the bed. “I’ll help you pack.”

“No need,” Pops said. “You have new wardrobes waiting for you at home. I promise you will never want for anything ever again.”

“I need my painting supplies,” I told him, sweeping my hand over the mostly empty room.

I had a plastic dresser from Walmart whose drawers cracked and sank because of the weight of their contents. The drawers held brushes, rolled canvases, and paint tubes. My mother never had money for food, but we always had art supplies.

My mother was an artist. However, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t paint like me. Her canvases looked amateurish and silly. She hated my idol, Evangeline Franco, and tried to copy her work, only to punch a hole through it after failing at the task.

I could perfectly emulate Evangeline, which only made my mother hate me more. She was jealous of my talent and loathed that I was a younger, prettier version of her.

Aiden folded his arms over his chest, muscles bulging from the thin T-shirt. “What do you want from us, old man? Where were you years ago?”

He let out a sigh. “I’ll explain everything in the limo.”

“Limo?” I choked out. “You have one?”

“I own several dozen,” Pops said as if it were nothing.

In my small Midwestern town, no one owned anything fancy. Most people didn’t even have a car. They used public transportation. Haven was a speck on the map of Illinois. You could blink and miss it.

“Aid, I don’t care what he wants. We have to go with him. Please don’t ruin this for me.”

“Fine,” Aiden agreed. “But if he hurts you—”

“He won’t,” I said, and knew without a doubt our grandfather would never physically harm us.

Before we left the house, Pops hovered over my mother as she smoked a cigarette on the disgusting cream couch.

“I lied, Savanna. You won’t see a cent from me.” He removed papers from his suit jacket pocket and set them on the coffee table. “Sign, and I won’t have you arrested for child abuse.”

“Screw you,” she snapped, tossing the cigarette at the ashtray. The butt dropped onto the carpet in the same spot she’d burned dozens of times. “I’m not letting you take them without getting what’s mine.”

Pops bent down, put his finger on the dotted line, and said, “Sign, or I will have you arrested for murder.”

Murder?

My mother was capable of a lot of things, and unfortunately, murder was one of them. She had so much hatred in her heart.

Without a word, my mother signed away her rights. Then, my father did the same. We were almost of age, but for whatever reason, our grandfather considered being our legal guardian important.

As we exited the house, my dad observed us from the kitchen window, and my mother stood in the doorway. She lit another cigarette, gutting me with a nasty look.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we climbed into the black stretch limousine.

“Devil’s Creek,” Pops said as the car moved away from the house. “It’s on the coast of Connecticut, about a two-hour drive from New York City.”

“Wow,” I mouthed. “Can we see the Statue of Liberty?”

Pops nodded. “Sure, I’ll arrange a helicopter ride over the city.”

Aiden sat beside me, arms folded over his chest, glaring at our grandfather. “Tell us the truth. I don’t want you getting Alex’s hopes up for nothing.”

“I want us to be a family,” he said. “And for the two of you to take your places in our inner circle. Our family has a bit of a legacy. Certain expectations come with being a Wellington.”

Aiden snorted. “Figured as much. What are they?”

“We have a long plane ride,” Pops said, reaching for a glass bottle of brown liquid. “How about we discuss it on the way home?”

“Whatever,” Aiden shot back. “But if you’re lying to us, you won’t see us again.”

“Understood,” Pops said, respecting my brother’s decision, though I’d already seen firsthand that he was a man who always got what he wanted.

We arrived at the airport two hours later and parked in a hangar. When I saw the Wellington Pharmaceuticals logo on the side of the airplane, my jaw nearly hit the floor.

Oh my god.

He was that Wellington.

Of course, I knew the name.

Wellington Pharmaceuticals produced most of the shampoo, baby products, makeup, and drugs on the market. My mother refused to buy them, and I never understood why. All the girls at my school loved their hair and makeup products.

I looked at Pops and said, “Do you own the company?”

“I own many companies, yes, and Wellington Pharmaceuticals is one of them.” He cupped my cheek and grinned. “And now, my dear, you and Aiden are the heirs to my empire.”

For the first time in my life, I shed tears of joy.