My heart skips a beat as an unfamiliar, harsh voice slithers through the air. My spine stiffens, and my fingers, trembling with a mix of fear and annoyance, lose their grip on the glass of water I’m holding. It slips through my fingers and shatters against the tile floor. The sharp sound echoes through the apartment like a warning bell. I cast a weary glance at the shards scattered at my feet, then step over the mess, toward the insistent banging rattling the door.
With a deep breath that burns my lungs with dread, I yank the door open to face my uncle’s new driver. His imposing frame fills the doorway, his eyes cold and calculating.
“What do you want?” I demand. My voice is steady despite the icy fear creeping up my spine.
“Maxwell wants to see you,” he replies, reaching for my arm, but I jerk away, meeting his gaze with equal frostiness.
There was a time I would have sworn that my uncle wouldn’t risk physical assault—not with me being a financial asset, but in view of his recent cruelty, any assurances I once believed evaporate.
His fingers curl into a fist at his side. “Let’s go.”
It seems the time I have to weigh my family’s ultimatum is up. “I’ll know the way home,” I say, unwilling to spend any more time than necessary with this man.
He leans in, his breath warming my face, and my heart constricts painfully in my chest. I brace myself for an assault that never comes. Just as I’m about to succumb to his menacing presence, a voice cuts through the tension.
“What’s going on here?” Thomas, my uncle’s assistant, and once my father’s loyal confidant, approaches with urgency. His presence is a balm to my nerves.
“Maxwell wants her–”
“Your employer is Mr. Remington,” Thomas corrects the man. “And her name is Miss Remington,” Thomas says through gritted teeth. “I was sent to collect Miss Remington. You, Chad,” Thomas continues, standing between us, “are here to drive us, nothing more.” Without waiting for a response, I step aside to let Thomas in, closing the door in Chad’s face.
“Your uncle has given Chad too many liberties, I’m afraid,” Thomas says, his tone laced with concern.
“Being treated like an intruder in my own home isn’t new,” I reply, my gaze drifting to the door. The staff’s open allegiance to my aunt and uncle is also unsettling, a reminder of how powerless I’ve become.
Thomas exhales. “He’s new … like many of the staff now working for your family, and doesn’t remember a happier time or that you’re the heir?—”
I place a finger over his mouth, and Thomas’s lips firm into a thin line. Sometimes it’s best to forget. I want to stop grieving the past and what I’ve lost. I need to stop, and there is no better time than the present. “I’m no longer the heir,” I whisper.
“My apologies, Miss Remington.” Thomas scrubs his face and releases a ragged breath. “As brutish as Chad is, your uncle did send for you.”
“I gather you’re aware of the ultimatum?” I sit heavily on the sofa.
Thomas nods. “There are whispers about it among the staff.”
“Do you know why they’re so gung-ho about me getting married now?”
“I don’t know,” Thomas admits, his eyes betraying a sadness I know too well. “They’re keeping me in the dark. Chad likely knows more than I do.”
I squeeze his hand, noting the frailty that time and stress have wrought. He’s one of the few constants in my life, a remnant of a happier past. Yet, I can offer him nothing but gratitude. He’s the only person in the world I still trust. And he isn’t even blood. For all my family’s talk about bloodlines and loyalty, they’ve treated me like an outsider since my parents’ death.
“They seemed pleased when they called me in,” he says.
My heart sinks. Their satisfaction never bodes well for me. “Did they mention Anna?”
Thomas shakes his head, his expression mirroring my despair. “Using that poor girl… Your father would never have allowed it.”
“My father is dead,” I say, burying my face in my palms to hide the tears that threaten to fall.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” I assure him, though the ache in my chest says otherwise. “I remind myself now and then of their absence to deny Priscilla the pleasure of seeing the hurt on my face each time she mentions my parents’ deaths.”
Thomas doesn’t look convinced, and I can’t blame him. Some days, neither am I.
“Your aunt will only become more vicious.”
“I know,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself as though to ward off the chill of what’s coming. “But she’s asking the unthinkable…” My lungs ache. “I…I don’t know if I can give in this time.” Tears fall from my eyes despite my efforts to swipe them away.
