My mother and stepfather are part of the wealthy and powerful New York elite. With their influence alone, they have the power to move Beth to the top of any heart transplant list in the world. Yet every request or favor comes at a cost with them. The only question is how much.
My mother is still beautiful at fifty-five. Tall, British, and blonde, she commands attention wherever she goes. Her flawless look, meticulously crafted by her plastic surgeon, is the main weapon in her arsenal. Over the years, she’s undergone at least fifteen surgeries, from nose jobs to breast implants to a designer vagina. I remember her eagerly showing me pictures of her new vagina, saying, “Darling, when you get to my age, your pussy will get loose and saggy too. No man will want you then.” However, her smooth, manufactured body conceals a rotten core. Everything she says and does is driven by ulterior motives. She relishes playing the role of the dumb, insecure blonde, projecting an image of innocence, but it’s all fabricated. A master manipulator, she demands constant attention and praise, exploiting men and friends alike in her ascent through society, often crushing their souls in the process.
When she hooked up with Mark, I took off with Beth to Australia. I had just turned eighteen and couldn’t bear to endure her toxic behavior any longer, fearing it would crush my soul too and corrupt my little sister. Beth was still so young and impressionable; she needed a mother who would prioritize her wellbeing. So, I gathered what little money I had saved, and we left to start our own lives as far from Mother’s chaos and drama as we could get. Her parting words, “If you think you can do better, be my guest,” were the last I heard from her when she signed over Beth’s guardianship. She didn’t care that we had left; she was still engulfed in her new romance. In the ten years since, she’s never made contact, not even a single text to check in on us. To be fair, neither did we. I wanted a fresh start for us.
So I’m not entirely surprised to see Mark, my stepfather, enter the restaurant alone. I was expecting Mother to waltz through the door in one of her obscenely revealing dresses, her ridiculously huge breasts on show. I should have known that she would send him instead.
He’s rather attractive for an older gentleman. He’s wearing his trademark gray three-piece suit with a black tie. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen him wear anything else. Not that we’ve spent a lot of time together. His salt-and-pepper hair has become more salt than pepper over the years, but it adds to his distinguished look. And his stomach is slightly rounder than the last time I saw him. He catches my eye and nods in greeting before confidently striding to my table, bypassing the hostess.
“Hailee. Good to see you. How are you doing, honey?” He gives me a quick kiss on my cheek and settles into the seat across from me. My nose involuntarily scrunches at his condescending pet name, but I quickly recover before he notices.
“Where’s Liz?” I refuse to refer to her as Mom. She doesn’t deserve that title.
“Elizabeth is in Monaco with her friends.”
I snort, unable to hold back my disbelief. Her daughter reaches out to her for help after ten years, and she can’t be bothered to show up.Typical.
Mark shoots me a look as he halts the passing waitress to order a scotch on the rocks.
“Sorry. I was expecting to see her since, you know, it’s been ten years and all.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “How have you been?”
From what I’ve heard, he’s no fool. Match made in heaven with my mother, it would seem. He’s vicious in business and ruthless in high society. Powerful men like Mark don’t like to hear the word “no” in any capacity. They always get what they want, which makes me even more nervous to be sitting here with him. Despite my mother’s shortcomings, I can handle her. I know her and her manipulative ways. With Mark, I’m flying blind. I wipe my sweaty hands on my napkin in my lap.
“We’re well, thank you. Your mother and I were surprised to get your call. To be honest, we thought you’d never come back.”
“Oh, umm… We’re not coming back…” I fidget with my napkin under the table and take a deep breath. “Beth needs a heart transplant, and we need your help in moving her up the transplant list. Her heart has deteriorated badly, she basically has no quality of life. That’s why I reached out to Liz, to see if she—or you—you both—would be willing to assist.”
I’m stumbling over my words, thrown by Mark’s presence when I had planned for Mother. They have enough money and power to solve world hunger; a phone call to the transplant board is not exactly a big ask. But Mark’s expression remains blank, devoid of sympathy.
“I know why you’re here, Hailee. I’m well aware of everything about your lives in Australia. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t keep tabs on my wife’s kids?” My eyes momentarily widen in surprise. He scoffs. “You’re naïve if you thought I wouldn’t watch over you. Knowledge is power.”
I swallow roughly. Maybe Iamnaïve to think my mother would let us walk out of her life, no strings attached. It never crossed my mind that we were being followed or monitored. However, I’m not so naïve to think he’d make that phone call to the transplant board out of the kindness of his heart. Everything has a price.
“How’s Eden treating you?”
I freeze, his sly smile sending a shiver of revulsion down my spine. I swallow back the bile threatening to rise in my throat. Since he’s brought it up, there’s no need to beat around the bush. So, I bluntly ask the question we’ve been dancing around.
“What do you want in exchange for the call, Mark?”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned at Eden, it’s men. It’s opened my eyes to the desires and whims of the rich and powerful. When you have everything you could possibly desire at the snap of your fingers, including women, life becomes predictable and boring. It’s all about upping the ante—what more can you risk to chase that sweet release of dopamine and endorphins? It all circles back to sex eventually. So I’m not surprised by the direction this conversation is taking. The notion of “once a whore, always a whore” is difficult to shake in the eyes of men.
I take a deep breath and compose my features into a nonchalant expression, preparing for his inevitable response. Regardless of his demand, I refuse to let him see my discomfort or disgust.
His lips form a shrewd smile. “I assure you, it’s not what you’re imagining. Well, not exactly.” He tilts his head, considering his next words carefully. “You’re aware that your mother and I didn’t have any children together, and I don’t have any offspring from my previous marriages. When the time comes for me to retire, I want to ensure that my empire and considerable wealth are carried forward through the generations. I want to leave a legacy. I want an heir.”
Oh God, fuck no!
I suppress the urge to gag. He must notice the queasy look on my face.
“For Christ’s sake, not me!” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He has the decency to look a little green at the thought. “Both of you must return to New York and rejoin our family. Then, you’ll settle down, marry and start a family of your own. But you’ll marry someone of my choosing, someone from a prestigious family. I’ll ensure Beth gets her new heart, but in exchange, I want you to marry and provide me with a grandchild.”
My relief is short-lived. I’m grateful he’s not asking me to reproducewithhim. But an arranged marriage?
“Do I get any say in who you choose?”
“I will select the best possible candidate for you. I know what it takes to run an empire and the business acumen necessary to pass on to your child.”
“But Beth doesn’t have the luxury of time; she needs the surgery now.”
