Prologue
“Here comes Gumby.”
“String bean Charlie Bond, get it right,” Dirk snorted. “The kid is so skinny we could snap him in half.”
The laughter hit harder than the words.
Always that damn laughter.
He was a Bond.
He wasn’t supposed to be pushed around.
He wasn’t supposed to be bullied.
He was supposed to open his mouth and tell them to back the hell off. That one day they’d probably be working for him or another member of his family.
But the words always jammed in his throat. They had his whole life.
He scooped his books off his desk and headed for the door. If he could get off school grounds fast enough, maybe he could breathe again.
At least he didn’t have to ride the bus. His mother always picked him up and drove him back to the family mansion, tucked near The Bond Retreat. The crown jewel of their empire that was founded generations ago.
People heard the name Bond and backed off.
Usually.
Just not with him.
“Don’t run away, Charlie,” Dirk called. His father worked maintenance at The Retreat and everyone on the island knew it. The locals called it The Retreat like it was the only one that mattered. And for the elite who flocked from all over the world, it was.
Charlie didn’t turn fully, just angled his head. “Get lost.”
His ten-year-old, lanky, prideful legs refused to run, but they lengthened his stride anyway.
Dirk and his buddies cut him off before he reached the exit.
He might tower over them, but they outweighed him. Every last one.
There were no teachers around. No other kids. Just Dirk and his pack of misfits.
Typical to box him in. Like life had been doing since the moment he was born with the last name of Bond.
Rob shoved him hard, knocking the books from his hands.
He wanted to bolt but he wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.
And if his grandfather found out he’d been bullied again? He’d get the same lecture: Man up. Don’t tarnish the family name.
“You know, Dirk,” Rob said. “Charlie’s great-grandfather was that whoring old man at the motel. Bet he’s from a whole line of bastards.”
“It’s a resort,” he snapped. “Not that you’d ever be classy enough to step inside it. A motel is where your father met your mother with a pocket full of dollar bills.”
Rob’s fist shot forward.
***
Charlie jerked upright in bed, heart pounding, palms slick. He even had to check if he’d wet himself.
Nope. Thank God for small miracles.
He grabbed his pillow and punched it, each blow everything he wished he’d had the guts to unleash on those assholes.
He couldn’t even get the words out to them. Not when it mattered.
His father and grandfather had worked too hard to scrub the family name clean after his great-grandfather’s scandals.
He wasn’t going to be the one to drag shame back onto them.
So he didn’t fight back even when every bone in his body screamed that he should.
When he had nothing left, he collapsed onto his back, staring into the dark while tears tracked down his temples.
Here, in his room, hidden from the world, was the only place he could be himself.