Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
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C ora
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I ’m so confused and the dark feeling in my stomach keeps growing. I need time to figure out what is happening. So I shake my head and murmur no.
“Good,” Sinclair says. “If you need anything, let Henry know.”
They leave in a hurry, but not before each of them kisses me goodbye. They really kiss me, leaving me dazed and perplexed.
I don’t know what’s happening but it’s not good. Should I leave? But there’s still one night of my sentence to get through. If do leave will I jeopardize everything?
No, I need to wait this out.
How is this my life? But before I sink into some existential crisis, I tell myself how grateful I should be. I’m honoring my mom’s dying wish. Nothing else matters. Not even me.
It’s seems to take me forever to give myself a tour of the place. This entire penthouse and everything in it must be worth about a few hundred million dollars. I can’t imagine living like this every day. Some people just have different lives.
I search for room that Flinn left my bag in and decide to take a shower. I change into another pair of jeans, a sweater—because the temperature inside is perfect—and a pair of socks, foregoing my boots for now. Then I spend an inordinate amount of time looking out onto the city.
The sound of intercom buzzing rips me from my thoughts. It’s Henry, whom I met moments ago, bringing me food I didn’t order.
“Hello again, Ms. Anderson.”
“Please, call me Cora,” I insist.
“Of course, Ms. Cora,” he says, smiling. “On the masters' instruction, I brought you some lunch. I took the liberty of choosing a burger and fries, a pizza, and a lime milkshake. I also brought an array of snacks. I hope one of them is your favorite.”
“Thank you, Henry.” I want to hug him, but I restrain myself. “I’m so sorry I don’t have any money on me,” I say, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Was that even the right thing to say?
“Not at all. The masters will hear nothing of it. But I do appreciate the thought. I’m here to serve you, Ms. Cora.
Please let me know if you need anything else.
I’m just a phone call away. Plus, I have permission from the masters to get you whatever you like, from anywhere in the world.
So if you’d like a pastry from France, sushi from Japan, tapas from Spain or a curry from India, I’ll be happy to hop on the jet and get it for you. ”
He wasn’t even joking.
What? Why would they do that for me? Stupid, Cora, I think. Even death row inmates get a last meal of their choice. Which really doesn’t apply here because I did what I was supposed to do, so no one is dying. I hope.
Still how can I eat in a place like this? Everything is so ridiculously white. If I spill even a drop of ketchup, it’ll look like a crime scene.
As soon as Henry leaves, just as I’m about to emotionally stuff my face, there’s someone else at the door.
It’s Henry again, except this time he’s brought two guests with him.
“Ms. Cora. I thought you might be happy to see your sisters.”
My sisters?
“Oh, she’s very happy to see us, aren’t you, Sis?”
And just like that, my world falls apart.
Frozen to the spot my gaze takes in the two women who work their way into the penthouse that belongs to the new heads of the Nix Consortium.
Cynthia and Summer Anderson. Their beauty is so sublime, they could be supermodels. Perfect with flawless skin, hidden because not every man has the privilege to look at them, they are the envy of the world. The prized Anderson daughters who would make the most beautiful brides in the world.
But I know the real them. Behind closed doors, they’re mean and spiteful and won’t hesitate to kick you when you’re down. I know this firsthand.
They refer to their beauty as pulchritudinous and believes it gives them the right over everyone...mostly me. I’m their Cinderella.
Except, I don’t have any sisters...
The truth is Pierre Anderson is not my father. I am not one of his daughters.
I’ve been lying this entire time.