The Stars We Chase (Love and Other Dreams #5)

Prologue

Sky

Six years ago

What is that on my head?

Dazed, I try to touch the source of this burning sensation.

It's damp.

My eyelids are heavy, but I force them open, wanting to see what sticks to my fingers.

Nothing.

"What were you thinking?" someone asks.

Who?

"I'm talking to you. Please, answer." Disappointment lingers in that voice, distant and muffled. "Skady. Blohm. What's wrong with you?"

Skady? Nobody calls me by my given name, only Father when...

Ohhh.

It's serious. I force my eyelids open and recognize Father's perplexed face. He stands in front of the floor-length mirror in the suite, holding the charred remains of a veil in his hand. And there's Mother, leaning against the desk next to him, arms crossed, her eyes as far away from me as possible.

"What's gotten into you?" Father inquires, waving the gossamer fabric in front of my eyes as if trying to hypnotize me. The rustling of the silk sounds like a thousand needles simultaneously piercing my eardrums.

Frantically, I snatch the veil from his hand. "Nothing," I shout, not even sure why. "Just leave me alone!"

Are tears welling up in my eyes? Why are the wine-red curtains of the hotel room suddenly blurred?

Now, Mother steps forward. "Stop pretending, Skady. We already know," she says in a thin voice.

Dammit. They know about Levi? How?

"Even a blind man could see what's wrong with you." She shakes her head. "You are—"

"Let me handle this, Ida." Father interrupts, and she falls silent. He focuses on me with a resigned expression. "Do you have any idea of the damage you've caused today?" His tone alone makes me feel nauseous.

He is immensely disappointed. And rightfully so.

I bite my lip, feeling the pain but unable to erase the memory, even if it's distorted. I remember every detail.

"You've ruined everything. We can forget about the collection." I wish he would yell at me, but he's so deflated that I'd rather disappear in shame.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "That was never..."

Father raises his hand. Although my thoughts are currently riding a roller coaster in the fog, I know it's better to remain silent.

His lips form a thin line, and he takes a deep breath through his nose. "Here's what's going to happen."

I try to stand still, but I fear I'm swaying. Or maybe it's the carpet with its psychedelic pattern. Or the walls. I have no idea.

"Our driver will take you to England today. There, you can find yourself again," he continues in a shaky tone.

What? They're sending me away? Today? "But..."

"You're going. Period." He turns away from me, apparently unable to look at me any longer. "You can't stay here. I don't tolerate scandals at Touch av lyx, and you…" He looks at me, disillusioned. "You're the epitome of a scandal."

I should defend myself, but I can't. Because it's true. I've destroyed everything today. It becomes clearer with every passing second. What could I possibly say in my defense?

That I'm in love? No, was in love! So much so that I apparently forgot what's most important in my life?

Dammit, how could I be so foolish?

"It will cost us a fortune, but we'll handle it. With the employees and the press. The truth about what happened today will never come to light," his voice trembles.

I nod and lower my gaze. The haze in my head hasn't completely lifted yet, but I understand the sacrifice he's making for me. "Thank you." I promise, "When I return from England, I'll work harder than ever before."

Mother's tired sigh reaches my ears. I look at her for help, but she immediately looks away.

Father's attention, on the other hand, is solely on me. He sadly shakes his head. Heaven, why are you doing this to me? he silently asks. "I should kick you out and leave you to your fate. Yes, I should." I can see in his face how much these words pain him. How he's trying to face the situation with the same strength he displays in the business world. "You're of legal age, capable of standing on your own."

Please, no! I cover my mouth with my hands, pleading with my expression for him not to do it.

He turns away and walks to the window, where a strangely distorted skyline looms. All I see of him is his broad back and trembling shoulders. The silence in this room is almost unbearable.

"You're going to England. And then somewhere else. No one must ever know who you are. Everything else is completely irrelevant to me." He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard.

His words pierce right into my heart.

Yes, I made a mistake—a terrible mistake. But we have a shared plan that we must continue at all costs. No, it's more than a plan, much more.

It's my big dream!

"What about Touch av lyx ? Who will succeed you when you retire?" I dare to ask, even though I feel like collapsing on the spot. I can hardly bear the situation, especially as I become sober with each passing minute, and this darkness takes hold of me. It's as if it's pulling me underwater, deep down to where it's pitch black and cold.

"I'll figure that out without you," he dismisses. "The driver will be here in ten minutes."

Mother turns away as if none of this concerns her. She doesn't even consider helping me or giving me her attention.

Of course not. Why would she start today of all days?

Father marches to the desk in front of the cream-colored wall. There, he sits down on the dark green leather chair and opens his laptop. "We'll make sure your account is always filled. In return, I expect only one thing from you: that you disappear forever. No one must ever know who you are and what you've done today."

A deep sense of shame washes over me. "Thank you," I whisper tonelessly.

"Go now." A brief nod and a worried glance, that's all I get from him.

I hesitate, shifting from one foot to the other. Neither of them looks like they want a hug from me as a farewell. So I briefly raise my hand, blink away the tears, and leave the room. Before I close the door behind me, Father sighs wearily.

"This is entirely your fault, Ida," he accuses Mother. "You spoiled her."

"What?" Mother's voice sounds hoarse. "I never... "

No. Not this too.

My shoulders weigh heavy, as do my eyelids. Yet I flee into my hotel room at lightning speed because I've heard them throw these accusations at each other countless times in the past few weeks.

It hurts. Everywhere. But I have no choice. My big dream lies shattered, my parents are profoundly disappointed in me—just like I am in myself.

I have to go, and it's entirely my fault because I was the one who maneuvered myself into this debacle.

How could I have allowed my feelings to make me so blind and foolish?