They changed me. Erased my ability to feel.
But that’s not why I hunt them. It’s not about trauma. It’s because as long as they’re out there, I’ll never have peace.
I don’t like who I was as a kid. I don’t like who I am now.
I’ve learned how far I’m willing to go to survive—and that makes me just as monstrous as they are.
“Mr. Amos, would you like me to prepare something special for Miss Lillyana?” our housekeeper asks from the doorway of the library, and I have no idea how to answer her.
“I don’t know, Ula. Just take care of whatever she needs when she gets here.”
“I set up the room between yours and Mr. Ethan’s. The view on this side is nicer. I imagine she must be homesick,” she adds, probably referring to the U.S.
I nod and then do something I rarely do: I keep the conversation going. “Did you know her before she went to boarding school?”
“Yes. I worked for Miss Nora my entire life. When Mr. Ethan came back from boarding school to start college—well, when you both did . . .”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he wanted me to leave Nora’s house and work for him. But he asked me to stay a little longer—to keep an eye on Lillyana. He wanted someone he trusted watching over her, even after she started school and only came home for breaks. It was only after she moved to Paris that he brought me here,as you know.” She pauses, almost as if she regrets talking too much.
“What was she like as a kid?”
“Quiet around her mother. Talkative with us. Miss Nora was always correcting her—her posture, her hair, her clothes. Nothing was ever good enough. But more than that, she criticized Lillyana whenever she acted spontaneously. From what I remember, in the end, she stopped talking to anyone in that house. She buried herself in books—or a sewing kit. I think she taught herself how to survive alone.”
Chapter 7
“Would you like something to drink, miss?” the flight attendant asks.
“Honestly, with how nervous I am, I kinda wish I could, but I’ve never had alcohol—besides a few sips of champagne at my mom’s house—and I think it’s illegal now that we’re in U.S. airspace, right? I’m only twenty.”
I blurt it all out in exactly two and a half seconds—or something close to that—because when I get nervous, I talk fast. And a lot.
“Juice then?” she offers kindly. “We’ll begin our descent shortly and won’t be able to serve anything else.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I lie.
I am not fine. I’m a nervous wreck.
Dear God, this has to go well!
I’ve even made a mental plan to stay out of Ethan’s friend’s way as much as possible. I’ll be invisible. He won’t even notice I’m in the apartment.
It’s that or spend the next month at my mother’s house, with her fifth husband.
Just thinking about living with them gives me chills.
Ramon makes me uncomfortable, to say the least. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me, or those awkward, forced attempts to be “friendly.” I’m not sure what it is—but moving in with my brother is the only real option right now. Even if that, too, makes me uneasy.
Lately, Ethan and I haven’t had much contact, outside of the few days we usually spend together during summer breaks. He’s not exactly Ramon’s biggest fan either and avoids their house like the plague.
Despite our ten-year age gap—and the fact that we have different fathers (he’s from Mom’s first marriage; I’m from the third)—we used to get along well when I was younger.
He’s always been the overprotective type, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to have someone looking out for me who’s not a stranger being paid to do it.
I basically grew up in an all-girls boarding school, and once I graduated high school, I was sent to live with one of my mom’s cousins in Paris for the first two years of fashion school.
My classmates back then thought I was going to live some sort of dream life. Paris and fashion? What girl wouldn’t want that?
