Lawson is still without his memories, and I am locked silent by his command not to say a word about his plan, or what Brody did.
But even if I could speak, I wonder if anyone would want to hear what I had to say.
Chapter
Two
SIMONA
Iwasn’t the cause of Lawson’s heart attack but my family—and the others—certainly didn’t hide the fact they placed much of the blame for his slow recovery on me.
I had a choice: become a pariah or accept the path laid out for me. And the guilt, because they weren’t entirely wrong—I was, in part, responsible for Lawson’s drawn-out recovery since I hadn’t been there when he needed me most—made the decision for me.
Each interaction—large or small—with any of the families after his heart-attack reinforced the truth: the world I was a part of was manufactured evil. Yet every day, I was faced with damning evidence of what happened to those who dared to speak up.
Snide, barbed comments were often said just loud enough for me to hear—remarks about how expensive his treatment was, how lucky the families were to have each other to rely on.
No one took the time to ask if I was okay. They spoke at me, not to me. Their lack of inclusion made me more alone than ever. But on the periphery, in my quietness, I started to see the truth in Wren’s words—finding an uneasy peace within myself.
Decisions were made without me, and they were made on my behalf because it was how it has always been done. Days like today, where representatives of the founding families gathered and strategized, happened regularly enough growing up for me to get used to them, although once upon a time I had an ally.
With Lawson’s memories still missing, I felt more alone than ever. Especially at events like this. I sat in the corner, more content being by myself than being involved in what was happening around me.
Brody was in fine form, playing the golden boy. It was the only way they saw him. I guess though everyone saw me as the complacent, very reserved, well-mannered and shy Omega, so there is that. I was happy living in the shadows. I just wish they weren’t his.
For as long as written history dates back, the four families—Vanderling, Henderson, Benton, and Armitage—have been immersed in each other’s lives and successes. The entanglement is intentional. I wouldn’t say I was part of a cult, but the families certainly operated with the coercive influence of a hive mindset.
It infected each and every person born into one of the families. Collectively and purposefully—almost maliciously in my mind—they focused their energy into becoming perceived pillars of society, while also expanding their businesses and empires in almost predatory ways.
The choice if you didn’t support one of the founding businesses was yours, but who would challenge them when theycontrolled everything? If you didn’t graduate from an Ivy League, you were second class. Musicians, actors, and influencers were mocked for their immoral choices—even though some of them had more wealth than the families themselves.
God help you if you were tattooed, swore like a sailor or didn’t have a degree, because the founding families wouldn’t lift a finger to help. And if you identified outside of traditions, or had relations with people of the same sex, in the mind of the founding families, you weren’t worthy of anything from God, or them.
It made my heart sad.
The shift in our family dynamics after Lawson’s heart-attack was palpable. You could literally feel the tension in the air that filled our home. Lawson’s office, once doused in sunshine and his massive presence, became nothing but an empty room—very symbolic really. Days were spent learning to cope with the changes to who he was as a person but also the rest of our family unit having to adjust to fit in with the void his amnesia brought.
I was taught a brutal lesson about asking questions by the Alpha of the Henderson family one Thanksgiving celebration. I’m sure the public humiliation made my inquisitive nature become a silent venture which is what all the families wanted.
Brody got better at his manipulativeness, and his infatuation with taunting me continued. What was interesting, though, was when it was just us, he no longer hid why he wasn’t my biggest fan—he felt like his choices were taken from him, and in his mind, I was to blame.
“I still can’t find anything about you that I like. Now do what you do best and act like the icy bitch you are,” he hissed, the noise barely escaping the lift of his perfect smile aimed directly at the room.
It’s strange how opposite we are. Times like today highlight it. While I preferred my own company, Brody is acharismatic showman through and through. He is gregarious with the men but not disrespectfully so, and with the ladies in our circle he is charming, witty, and so damn polite.
“Shoulders back and put a fucking expression on your face while I say goodbye,” he says, leaning to sweep my hair behind my ears to the style he insists upon. I have to clench my teeth so as not to recoil from his touch.
A soft press of his hand against my back is gentle, done for appearances’ sake because everyone is watching, swooning at the way we fit so well together. Knowing we have an audience, he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. My skin burns, and I have to blink back the tears from the sting of his bitter scent. For an Omega, and Alphas too, scent compatibility is as important as a soft nest. I have no hope for either.
For the time being, it really was easier accepting the inevitable and playing the part expected. Rather than wasting time hoping for a different ending. I withdrew as much as I could without being obnoxiously rude.
Everyone noticed. I hear more compliments from my parents and all the other founding families about how ‘demure’ and ‘gracious’ I’ve become, how wonderful it has been for no one to have to stress about me letting everyone pivot their attention to Lawson. Being a good girl is easy in this circle: don’t think.
Now, all I had to do is survive Brody. When we’re alone, he regularly tells me exactly how he feels about me and the prospect of having to pack with me. It mirrors how I feel about him; our method of coping is vastly different. Instead of accepting it and finding a way to fool our families together, he takes it upon himself to torment me at every opportunity. Every night I hope and pray today is the day he mans up and either admits he wants out, or he finds something or someoneelse to provide a distraction and keep him entertained so he leaves me alone.
The bitterest pill since Lawson’s heart attack is that even my father is once more besotted by Brody and encouraging our future together.
The drive home is quiet. We have more freedom because of our upcoming packing, but it is wrong.
