I smile. “I can live with that.”
And then I turn and walk away, leaving her standing in the gilded halls of her perfect world. Stepping out of the hotel, the crisp night air bites at my exposed skin. My cheek still stings, but it’s nothing compared to the slow, simmering rage curling in my chest. The city glows beyond the line of town cars and chauffeurs, a mirage of freedom that isn’t real. Not for people like me.
“Milo, I know you’re behind me.”
He is. Of course he is. It’s like a fucking twin thing, that I can feel him, standing at the base of the stairs, perfectly composed, a long black coat folded over his arm. He holds it out as I reach him, his gaze sweeping over me with a silent assessment.
“She hit you,” he says flatly. Not a question.
I slip my arms into the coat, relishing its warmth. “Nothing new.”
He exhales through his nose, his version of disapproval, but he doesn’t say anything else. Just gestures to the car waiting at the curb next to the valet.
“I’ll take you back to campus.”
I don’t argue, not wanting to stay here a second longer. The drive is quiet at first, the city slipping past in streaks of gold and red. The interior of the car is cool, sterile, much like the man behind the wheel. My brother is much like my father in that most everything he does is mechanical. He doesn’t do anything spontaneously. Everything is calculated. He plans his outfits not just the night before, but for the entire week. He even has special places where he puts each day’s outfit. We couldn’t be more opposite. Truly.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” I finally ask, staring out the window. “The way they treat us like we’re accessories instead of people?”
Milo doesn’t answer right away. “It’s just how things are,” he says eventually.
I scoff. “That’s not an answer.”
He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “You want a different one?”
“I want you to say I’m right.”
A dry, humorless chuckle. “You want validation, not honesty.”
“They’re the same thing.”
“No, they’re not.” His hands tighten slightly on the wheel. “You’re angry, Mara, I get it. But lashing out won’t change anything.”
I shift in my seat, staring at him. “So, what, you just accept it? Accept that our lives aren’t our own?”
He doesn’t respond, but the answer is clear in the tight set of his jaw.
“That’s pathetic,” I mutter, sinking back into my seat.
Milo’s sigh is long and measured. “You don’t want solace, Mara. You want someone to tell you that rebellion will fix everything. That you can throw a tantrum and escape your family’s expectations without consequences.”
I stiffen. “That’s not what I?—”
“Itiswhat you want,” he interrupts, his voice still infuriatingly calm. “But you’re not stupid. You know better than anyone that in our world, power wins. Not emotions. Not impulse.”
I clench my teeth. “So, what, you think I should just roll over and let them dictate my life?”
Milo’s fingers drum against the wheel. “No. I think you should be smarter about it.”
I let that sink in. I hate how rational he is. How his words worm their way under my skin, because as much as I want to deny it, he’s not wrong.
The car slows as we pull onto the campus of AGU, the towering dormitories casting long shadows under the streetlights. Milo parks and turns to look at me. “You’re playing a gamewhether you like it or not, Mara. You can throw a fit and lose, or you can learn the rules and win.”
I swallow hard, my hands curling into fists in my lap.
I don’t say anything as I push open the door and step into the night.
Because I don’t know if I have an answer yet.
