Chapter 2
TWO
Standing before me is a complete stranger. I glance at my sisters, but they look just as confused as I am. Not just because he’s a stranger, but because he is a clearly very wealthy man. Why would he need to talk to us? In this part of the neighbourhood?
His tailored trench coat is draped over his perfect suit and he wears a beautiful diamond-encrusted watch that looks like it belongs in a bank vault. And his shoes… I haven’t seen shoes that shiny and polished in a long time. I could use them as a mirror.
“Good morning,” he says with a polite smile.
“Hello?” I say, letting my reluctance seep into my tone, because for all I know he could have a gun in his back pocket.
“May I come in?” he asks.
“With all due respect, sir,” I begin, careful to keep my voice polite but firm. “We don’t know who you are, so —”
“You can stand out there and tell us what you want,” Sam interrupts. Her tone is sharp, challenging. I give her a look, but she barely notices, her glare locked onto this man.
The man doesn’t flinch. He takes in Sam’s words, nods, then offers a small, careful smile. “I understand. My name is Mr. Ryder. I’m here on behalf of your father.”
That lands like a punch, and I still. Sam’s arms drop, her expression flickering with something—maybe anger, maybe confusion. But my mind is already racing. How did he know our father? What does he want? Was he a friend?
“What do you know about our father?” Sam asks coldly.
“He was a friend of mine. I’m sorry about what happened. It was a truly tragic death,” he continues, and it’s the genuine sincerity in his eyes that makes me invite him in. He follows us to the kitchen, in which there are only two and a half seats.
Half because, one of the chairs half broke. I offer him the not-broken seat and lean against the kitchen counter instead.
“This may seem sudden,” Mr. Ryder continues, glancing between us. “But your father and I were very close friends. This was something he wanted for you, a future at Brentwood. Since I’m the headmaster, I’d like to extend an invitation.”
Ah yes, Brentwood College. A few things come to mind at the mention of it.
The tests. My father, Mason, and the plans we’d made.
Brentwood is one of the colleges to get into—a place for the elite, the best of the best. It requires relentless exams: reasoning and non-reasoning, Mathematics and English assessments from the age of eleven. Which we did. And more.
Mason got a place, of course. My older brother was, undoubtedly, brilliant.
And we all knew Brentwood wanted him in.
But Mason never got the chance to go. And then, things fell apart.
I remember Sam and Naomi were supposed to go for their final interview a few months ago.
I suppose I also was more recently. One final step, but we didn’t show up.
After everything, it just… stopped mattering.
What was the point anyway? We didn’t have the money. And a scholarship was wishful thinking. It’s not like Brentwood would want me now; certain grades were required even to be considered. Ones I now didn’t have.
Naomi’s eyes practically sparkle, her mouth half-open in shock. Her face lights up as she stares up at him. “What?” she finally breathes, like she needs him to repeat it, just to make sure it’s real.
I can’t blame her. Brentwood would be a dream.
A distant one, but one nonetheless. A place Dad had raved about for as long as I can remember.
It didn’t matter what anyone said, we all knew Mason was going to get in.
There was always a chance the rest of us wouldn’t, but everyone knew he was always going to.
It was practically written in the stars.
And yet, here this man stands, polished and perfect in our worn-out kitchen, offering us an easy ticket to a place meant for him.
And all I can think is, why? Why now? Why us? I can’t stop the suspicion that prickles at the back of my mind. There’s no way he’s offering this up so easily. Nothing in this world is ever truly free. Everything comes with a cost. And we hadn’t even finished the exams.
I watch as Mr. Ryder catches my expression, the lingering doubt in my eyes, and clears his throat. “I’ve reviewed your exam results, and they were exceptional. The interview… well, think of it as a formality. A pass of sorts.”
I feel a chill run down my spine. There’s that word—pass.
Like we’re being ushered through an open door without fully knowing where it leads.
I may not remember exactly how I did on those exams, but I know this: I’m not exceptional now.
Not since Mason and Dad. My grades, my focus, all of it slipped into the same dark void that swallowed them.
“What about costs?” I ask, folding my arms, as if money would be the only thing that could stop this. “We can’t afford a place like Brentwood, even with a pass.”
His expression softens slightly, and he inclines his head. “You’d be on a scholarship. All expenses would be covered. Tuition, books, uniforms.”
I catch a glint of excitement in Naomi’s eye.
I can only imagine how she must be feeling about now.
All she’s ever talked about since the accident is how much she wants to leave, in her words, this dump.
I also don’t miss the tightening of Sam’s jaw as she shifts beside me.
Sam doesn’t look relieved or grateful. She looks wary, her eyes scanning Mr. Ryder waiting for the catch.
“But why?” she asks, her eyes wide.
He meets her gaze, his voice unwavering. “As I mentioned, I owe your father a great deal. He was a good man, and this was his wish. It would be my honour to fulfil it, to help bring his daughters the future he wanted for them.”
Honour. Wishes. Words that feel so out of place in our crumbling little kitchen, spilling from the mouth of a man who doesn’t belong in this world. A man who shouldn’t be making promises like this.
And yet, here he is. And here we are, with him looking at us like he’s giving us the keys to some grand future. But I know better. Nothing in this world is given without a cost.
“My son Christian also attends Brentwood,” Mr. Ryder adds, his tone casual, yet the revelation sends my jaw, as well as Naomi’s and Sam’s, plummeting to the floor. “He’s in Year Thirteen. You may know him?”
Know him?
That Christian Ryder?
Of course I know him. Everyone does. It would be more shocking if I didn’t when the whole of the UK worships at his feet like he’s some kind of national treasure.
Him and his obnoxious friends. You can’t even walk past a damn newsstand or open your phone without seeing their faces staring back at you.
Christian Ryder’s family is very influential here in the UK, but aside from that, he’s known primarily for his genius and academic potential.
His cousin, though, is something else entirely. Kai Steele is the epitome of brilliance. A child prodigy turned full-blown celebrity before he’d even finished being a child. Everyone’s first crush, everyone’s golden boy. He’s probably the most famous eighteen-year-old in the world right now.
But I always thought it strange, how people spoke of him like he wasn’t flesh and bone, like he wasn’t a child.
Although the Steele name had always been powerful, a dynasty of sorts, Kai continued their story in capital letters and bold handwriting.
And then there’s Will Carson. One of Christian’s friends.
Arson, assault, blackmail of multiple men.
Just things they couldn’t sweep under the rug fast enough.
His name’s been in more headlines than some politicians.
Always the same story, then nothing at all.
No charges. No fallout. No one ever really surprised.
Because when your last name is Carson, the rules bend.
And if they don’t, someone makes sure they do.
The guy could burn down the city and walk away with clean hands then get praised in the papers for his impeccable fashion sense.
Guess those are the perks when your family oversees the police force.
You can grip the law by the throat.
And then, Liam Grey. Another friend.
His family is practically drowning in fame.
Completely overflowing with actors, actresses, singers…
you name it. But Liam made a name for himself mainly through football, though not so much anymore.
No one knows why he suddenly lost interest in the game when he was doing so well.
When he could have easily been one of the greats.
Suddenly—out of nowhere—the headlines stopped being about his goals and trophies and started being about his endeavours with women. Famous ones, unknown ones. It didn’t matter.
Kai Steele. Christian Ryder. Will Carson. Liam Grey.
Four names that could stop a room. Four boys people worshipped, feared, envied, hated—usually all at once.
“So, you’re saying, you’re paying for everything? How is this even possible?” Naomi shrieks at a volume that halts my thoughts for a few moments. “This is… it’s like a dream. Thank you. I don’t even know what to say.”
She sounds almost cautious, as if she’s afraid saying the wrong thing might make him take it all back.
I should probably be feeling the same. And yet there’s this feeling twisting in my stomach, the sense that something about this just doesn’t add up.
There are strings attached to this, I’m positive about that. Tangled in a way we barely notice.
“Can you give us a moment?” I ask, my voice steady, but barely. He nods with an understanding smile, and I lightly grab Naomi’s arm, snapping her out of her daze.
“We need to think this through,” I say, looking from Naomi to Sam. “This man’s still a stranger, no matter what he says about Dad. We don’t know anything about him.”
Naomi lets out a frustrated sigh and glares at me. “Adeline, don’t be stupid. Why can’t you just be happy for once? You always find a reason to doubt everything. We’re accepting this offer, even if you won’t go.”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, Sam speaks up.
“Addie’s right. He is a stranger.” For a second, relief washes over me.
Sam, at least, is seeing reason. But then she shrugs, a small, almost careless gesture, her expression hardening.
“But he’s also offering us a way out of this place.
I don’t know about you, but I think we should just… do it.”
For a moment, I’m stunned, seeing Sam, my practical, sceptical sister, of all people, willing to take such a leap.
A dangerous one. She doesn’t look at me as she says it, and I can’t shake the sinking feeling in my stomach.
But she’s right, isn’t she? No one comes to save people like us.
And despite everything in me screaming to walk away, the truth is, we are desperate.
I turn my gaze to the man currently standing in our kitchen. He watches us with a calm smile, as if he’s just secured some inevitable outcome, like this was always meant to be.
To him, it might all seem simple. A matter of black and white: his debt to our father; us accepting out of necessity.
A neat, clean transaction. But life isn’t like that.
It’s never been black and white, not even close.
There are greys, and there are shadows. There are other colours, too—bright, dazzling ones.
Dull, sickly ones as well. A part of me wonders if he even sees those, or if he’s just pretending they don’t exist.
Maybe, for him, it’s easier that way.
“All right,” I say quietly, the words barely leaving my mouth. “We’ll do it.”
We step back into the kitchen, where Mr. Ryder stands waiting, his hands clasped in front of him, looking calm and collected, like he knew our answer before we did. Naomi doesn’t hesitate, her voice bright and confident. “We accept.”
A part of me feels like we’re sealing some kind of contract.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll get everything covered for you, including uniforms. You start next week.” The man beams and I internally scoff.
However, a hint of relief rises through me at the mention of uniforms. I was always made fun of for the way I dressed; at least this way, we’ll all look the same. Regardless, I can’t shake the nagging suspicion that there’s something seriously odd about this whole situation.
This sort of thing never happens in the real world. And I’m not na?ve enough to think that people like him are this generous.
Unless they’re hiding something.
I just know that accepting an offer like this blindly won’t end well for any of us. And frankly, I don’t think I can handle any more betrayal.