Chapter 15
Cornelia
“Maybe she can do a sit-down interview or a spread with a magazine,” suggests Miriam, one of my family’s publicists.
“It has to be something classy. That sounds so Hollywood,” my grandmother says, the last word laced with special disdain.
She lives in Bath most of the time, or in her literal castle an hour and a half away from London, which she constantly points out was once home to some queen.
She also has a house on Kensington Palace Gardens, but she rarely stays there or in London.
It’s the house my father grew up in, and when his husband, my grandfather, died, she moved out. Too many painful memories, I guess.
After the news about what happened with TJ and Nate reached her, she came to fix what happened, as she put it—like there’s any fixing this. But, of course, she meant publicly. I’m pretty sure I could kill someone, and she wouldn’t care as long as the press didn’t find out.
“How about she models for some brand?” the publicist throws the idea out there.
My grandmother’s nose wrinkled in disgust, probably recalling when I modelled a few years ago. She hated it. I didn’t like it much either, but I won’t admit it to her.
“It has to be something regal, demure, and subtle enough that it doesn’t look like we’re doing PR control.”
“We can throw a party or a soiree of some sort, take a few pictures with all the parties involved, leak them to the press, and show there’s no bad blood—and that the whole situation was taken out of context without actually saying anything.”
“Finally, an acceptable idea,” my grandmother replies.
I push myself from the couch in the living room, where I’d been lying face up dramatically after my grandmother turned down the fifth idea Miriam gave her. “Of course, what we need is more parties,” I say sarcastically.
“Cornelia,” Anthony, who has been a spectator up to this point, finally speaks just to scold me. He’s a bit scared of my grandmother. She can be pretty intimidating. And to intimidate Anthony, that’s saying something.
I sigh and turn to my grandmother. “Sorry.”
“You should be. We’re fixing your mess.”
I fight the urge to snap back. I already have a lot to deal with; I don’t need to add more to the pile.
She’s not a fan of the type of attention I bring to the family, but it’s partly her fault.
Before me, my family mostly kept out of the public eye.
When my mother and my father got married, the family got some attention since part of my mother’s extended family are New York socialites, but we didn’t have paparazzi following us around. Not until me.
It’s also partly my fault, but it’s easy to blame her for it. You know how the Kardashians got famous because of a sex tape? Well, I wasn’t dumb enough to film myself having sex, but sex does sell.
When I was around fourteen, at boarding school—before TJ—I dated a guy named Eliot, whom my grandmother pushed on me.
Nothing much happened between us because by then I was already in love with TJ, though he was occupied (he said he wasn’t; I said he was—we never reached a consensus). We dated for about six months.
Eliot was perfect on paper. While TJ was the guy every girl wanted to date, Eliot was the one every parent wanted you to date—intelligent, rich, and set to inherit an earldom.
Not that it mattered to me. I still think that one day the people will revolt against the royal family when they realise how much of their taxes go to them and how that money could be used for other things.
Being part of the 1% and holding a noble title would put you right at the top of the hit list in such a revolution.
But they’re also highly entertaining, so who knows?
Either way, it did matter to my grandmother.
She would have loved to say her granddaughter was a countess.
Getting to the point, he wanted to have sex.
I didn’t. I didn’t love him. He was just a consolation prize.
But I did send him a few naked pics, and he sent a few back.
Later, we broke up, and I began dating TJ.
I had forgotten about the pictures. Eliot didn’t seem to mind much about my relationship with TJ until he saw it was more serious than ours ever was.
One day, my dorm mother found TJ and me in bed.
By then, we had already slept together several times.
The rumour spread like wildfire through Edelweiss and eventually reached Eliot.
Three days later, the photos and our conversations were online.
Multiple news networks were talking about it, partly because it was child pornography, but mostly because of who our families are.
There was an investigation, and it confirmed what I already knew—Eliot had leaked them.
He was expelled from the school, but not before TJ beat the shit out of him.
His family tried to fight the expulsion, but while they may come from a line of earls in the UK, the school is in Switzerland, and my family is wealthier and a legacy at the school.
After that, the media forgot about Eliot, just like they did with the guy Kim Kardashian made her sex tape with, but they stayed obsessed with me. That obsession eventually spread to all my friends and TJ, and it hasn’t stopped since.
“The event could be either in the daytime or the nighttime,” Miriam is stating the obvious—what else is there?—but I think she is doing it to avoid my grandmother disagreeing with her.
“The nighttime, for sure,” Odette replies firmly.
“Also, it might be a good idea to publish a joint statement saying it was all a misunderstanding,” the publicist adds, adjusting her sleek black ponytail.
“I have already been contacted by the Winthrops’ PR representative, and that’s the approach they’d like to take.
As for the soiree, Cornelia being with someone could help redirect attention.
I know a few people who would be interested in a PR relationship wi—”
“I don’t do those,” I cut her off sharply.
I’m not a celebrity, and I don’t intend to play their games.
I’m just someone whom the press chose to obsess over when there are hundreds of more important things they could write about, like wars, genocides, and human rights violations.
I’m only willing to do the bare minimum so I can walk around London without being harassed by paparazzi, but that’s it.
Despite my answer, Miriam turns to look at my grandmother as if my opinion doesn’t matter. I guess it doesn’t. I’m not the one paying her. But one day I will be, so maybe she should think about that.
“No,” Anthony says, calmer than me, at the same time my grandmother does. “No, to the PR relations. As for the statement, we could agree to that, as long as both boys come to the party.”
Miriam nods, taking notes on her computer propped on her lap.
I groan, “Do I really have to take part in all of this?”
I don’t quite fancy being paraded around, and even less being in the same room with Nate and TJ. That’s bound to explode in somebody’s face.
My grandmother gives me a look that basically says, You better.
“Fine,” I give in. “I’ll go along with all of this, but on one condition.”
“Which is?” Odette asks.
“My mother isn’t involved in any of this.”
Her being involved is something I can’t handle.
“That,” my grandmother says, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, “I have no problem agreeing to.” She doesn’t have much love for her ex-daughter-in-law.