10. Victoria
10
VICTORIA
Sunday, September 8
“Vee! What the fuck?!” Ellie comes bursting into my room like a bat out of hell with her cell phone in hand. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail and her makeup is only half done. “That motherfucker has gone too far.”
“What?” I ask, my pen hovering over my notebook in confusion. I have no idea what she’s talking about. I’ve been holed up on my bed since waking up this morning, studying and writing papers that need to be done by week’s end. I’m exhausted after waking up with the sun to get started. It may be close to noon now, but it still feels like it’s too early in the day to be hollering.
“Liam announced your engagement .”
That has me leaping from bed. My textbooks and notes hit the floor with several thuds and I sprint to my best friend, plucking her phone from her hand.
My eyes fall on a hand with a giant diamond ring. It sparkles in the light, the caption short and simple: VICTORIA WALDORF IS OFFICIALLY MINE.
My stomach violently knots as I read the words in all caps, punctuated by a mocking diamond emoji. Who in the hell put that ring on and pretended to be me? The hand in the picture has a classic white-tipped French manicure.
I check the hot pink nail polish on my fingers to reassure myself that I haven’t fallen into a parallel universe, that I didn’t somehow participate in the photoshoot.
Just how far will Liam go to make this reality? And why aren’t my parents willing to put a stop to this mania?
“What are we going to do?” Ellie asks me. “We can’t let this happen.”
She’s saying exactly what I’m thinking. The only thing that comes to mind is that I have to run. I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off, but if I stay here, I will lose everything I’ve worked for.
I won’t graduate Thronewood or earn my culinary degree.
My mother is more sinister than I thought.
The social media announcement was more than likely her idea.
Giving Ellie back her phone, I grab mine from the charger, unblocking Liam’s number and hitting the call button.
I can’t do this.
I won’t.
I refuse to be locked down by an asshole who refuses to be faithful. God knows what else—who else—he’s done that I haven’t seen or heard about. I don’t want to know. I don’t actually care. Because the only thought in my mind is how to fix this. How I can make Liam take down the photo before anyone sees it.
“How many likes are on that photo?” I ask Ellie as Liam’s phone rings in my ear.
“Over three thousand.”
Fuck. My. Life.
Liam’s phone goes to voicemail, his grating voice filling my ears as he directs me to leave a message he probably won’t respond to. Irritation turns to boiling rage and I can practically feel steam coming out of my ears.
Liam can think he’s won all he wants. He can imagine that I’ll finally give in and bend to his will.
But I won’t.
I’m not marrying him.
I’m not becoming a Moretti.
End of story.