Chapter One
Tris
I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. No. I’m more like a shot of tequila, but not the cheap stuff. I’m more like the kind you only find on the top-shelf. At least I was before my father went and got himself arrested for fraud and conspiracy.
I storm into my parents’ Lake House, throwing open the large carved wooden doors with force like a bat out of hell, pissed off and looking for answers.
“Mother!” I yell, the crystals from the chandelier above chime softly as the doors shut. My anger is burning its way up my neck, and I’m ready to snap. “Father!”
My heels click on the marble floors that are veined just enough to look intentional, not showy.
They echo faintly off the high ceilings as I march down the hallway of my family’s two-story house.
I pass the formal dining room, the one we only use for holidays, or we would if we ever happened to all be in the same place, and the library that smells faintly of leather and dust. This house has always been the more modest of our family houses, if you can call nine bedrooms and a lake view modest, but compared to the place in the Hamptons, it almost feels. .. quaint.
When the familiar sound of classical music floats from one of the three sitting rooms, because according to my mother, one simply isn’t enough, my steps quicken.
“Someone better tell me why the hell my credit cards were declined today over a simple Bolide on Wheels bag!” I snap, embarrassment and disdain lacing every word. “The Hermes employee had the audacity to ask me if I was sure I could afford it.”
I’m about to continue my berating when I turn the corner and see that my parents aren’t alone.
“Officer Tom?” My face scrunches, eyebrows turning down in confusion. What’s he doing here?
“It’s actually Sergeant Hadley now,” he says in a tone of business and authority. It’d be hot if I weren’t so mad. “Take a seat, Tris.”
He points to the sofa, where my mother and father are both sitting. It’s only at this moment that I realize, across from them on the other side of the room, are two more people. Not just any people. No, their jackets read FBI.
“What is happening?” I demand to know, standing up straighter.
“Take a seat, Miss Thorne.” One of the agents points to the sofa again.
Seriously? What am I? A dog?
Raising a brow, I give the two men on the couch a slow once-over, the kind that makes it clear I’m not even a little impressed.
Suits, stiff posture, government-issue expressions, and the type of shoes that probably squeak when they walk.
They look like they’ve never been told no before.
Cute. Once I’ve seen enough, I offer them a tight-lipped smile.
“I’m comfortable right where I am.” I cross my arms. “So as long as you don’t have a problem speaking, you can start by telling me why you’re in my family’s house, and what this is about.”
Sergeant Hadley’s expression shifts to that of a man practicing the art of self-control as the two agents look back and forth, unsure of what to say or do. Unfortunately for them, I’m clear out of patience today.
“Seriously, I’m all ears. If anyone would like to fill me in, that’d be great.”
“Couth, dear,” my mother reminds me from behind her cup of afternoon tea. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. Please.” She motions to the agents. “Carry on.”
Instead of listening to the legal jargon droning from the agents’ mouths, I watch my father.
He’s a businessman with a poker face that, over the years, I have studied and done my best to master.
It’s paid off being able to read his moods and recognize when I’ve had his approval. .. And when I haven’t.
Right now, to anyone on the outside looking in, my father is the perfect image of stoic and impassive.
But to me? It’s in his micro-expressions.
My father isn’t one to smile, but the slight downturn of his mouth is enough to tell me he isn’t happy about what the agents are now calling the case against him.
My stomach drops at the next sign that I see, another tell of his that I’ve learned.
Nothing phases him, ever. So when he adjusts his pant leg, something he only does as a sign of discomfort, I fix my features.
Whatever this is about, my guess is that my father is far from innocent.
What the hell has he done?
Beside him, my mother’s hands start to tremble. I roll my eyes on instinct. Showing vulnerability or fear is a sign of weakness. She places the teacup onto its saucer with a clatter.
My father responds by placing his arm around her shoulders.
I’m sure it probably looks comforting, almost sweet, but I know the truth.
It’s calculating, a way to calm her down for unacceptable behavior.
Her chin dips down in shame because she knows it, too.
I’ve spent the better half of my life trying to make him proud, to gain his approval, but over these past few years, I’ve realized I’ll never get it, so there’s no point in trying.
Still, some things I’ve learned from him are hard to shake.
“So we’ve come here at the request of Sergeant Hadley, instead of bringing you and your family to the station.
But understand that these are severe charges you are facing, Mr. Thorne.
Due to the amount of probable cause we’ve already acquired, looking into Mr. Arias’s case, while this investigation is ongoing, your assets have been temporarily frozen. ”
What the hell? Well, now I know why my credit cards were declined. I’m officially living in a nightmare that not even my trust fund can fix. And what does one of his clients have to do with this?
“If these allegations made against you are unfounded, then the freeze will lift.” The agent clears his throat, and his eyes narrow.
For the first time since arriving, he actually looks the part of a threatening agent.
Almost. “However, if formal charges are filed, a court order will freeze all of your accounts, investments, and properties tied to your alleged crimes until your verdict.”
Panic.
That’s what I feel. I’m filled with it as the agent’s words hit me like a cold martini tossed right in my face, and I realize he’s talking about being cut off from everything.
No money, no spa days, no shopping sprees, no weeks in Cabo with Pierre sipping Mai Tais and enjoying a relaxing foot massage.
“Then what? We get it back, right?”
The agent looks my way, his lips pursing together like he’s doubtful. “If your father is found innocent, then yes.”
His words hang heavily in the air. I almost ask, “And if he’s not?” but one look at my father tells me my “outburst” was enough. I inhale sharply through my nose, then exhale slowly, doing my best to purge this anxiety, this weakness.
After the agents leave, my father assures my mother that everything is fine, it’s just a misunderstanding that will all go away soon. When she leaves the room, and it’s only my father and me, the energy in the air shifts, becoming charged with an uncomfortable anticipation of what’s to come.
“Princess,” my father starts, but I put my hand up to stop him.
“You’d better have a damn good lawyer, because this shit storm isn’t going anywhere, and if we lose everything?” I steel my features, meeting his eyes with a cold indignation that radiates in waves. “I’ll never forgive you.”
Now my family is broke, my dad is in jail waiting for his hearing, and my mother is bouncing from one nervous breakdown to the next.
If she isn’t crying or yelling, she is so hopped up on the pills her doctor gave her that she’s impossible to be around.
Lucky for her, she has friends who, for some reason, still enjoy her company and are allowing her to stay in one of their vacation homes on the North side of Adirondack Lake. I, however, am not so lucky.
After finding out my family’s new financial status, most of the people I considered my friends ghosted me or made up lame excuses about why they’re too busy for me.
Rude, but I get it. A couple of months ago, I probably would’ve done the same thing.
I’ve slipped from first class to coach, metaphorically and emotionally.
Still, it sucks to realize that people only care about what you can do for them, not about you.
My “best friend” did manage to surprise me, though, so kudos to her.
Finding Vianna in bed with my now ex-boyfriend, Pierre, really put things into perspective for me.
I have no one, and I’ve had to piece together the ruins of my life while my father waits in his cell, convinced his lawyer will pull off a miracle at the hearing and set him free as if he didn’t single-handedly implode everything in the first place, all because of his own greed.
That’s how I ended up here, working at the Cozy Pines Cafe in my hometown, Turtle Bay.
It’s my own version of the fifth circle of hell, dressed up in reclaimed wood and artisanal coffee beans.
Not exactly where I thought I would be, but it’s not like I had any other option after losing everything but my mind.
.. Although the jury is still out on that.
This job makes me feel like pulling my hair out with all the annoying customers and stupid coffee machines that I swear were designed by someone who felt like adding buttons just for the aesthetic.
Every day is like Groundhog Day now. I walk down the long, winding path from my tiny duplex, cross the street to work, and then drag myself back there just to wake up and do the exact same soul-sucking loop all over again.
Honestly, it feels like my life has been reduced to a glorified hamster wheel.
If it weren’t for the fact that I literally have no other options, maybe I’d be doing something else, but when Callie, a frenemy if you will, offered me the job along with housing that her family owns, I couldn’t say no.
I’m grateful, I guess. Miserable, but grateful.