ELIZA
I’d never been to Chicago before, but so far, it wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Though to be fair, I wasn’t entirely surewhatIhadexpected.
More noise perhaps. Certainly for the streets to be dirtier.
Instead, the city glittered under the late August sunshine, all sharp edges, shining glass, and wide, clean streets. From the window of the massive suite the Westwoods had rented for us in a luxury hotel overlooking Lake Michigan, the water looked more like the ocean than a lake.
It went on forever, bright and impossibly blue under a sky so clear, it almost didn’t even look real. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, just endlessly gorgeous sunshine stretching for miles overhead.
It was so unlike the weather at the estate, where the air always seemed thick with mist and rain. I wasn’t missing the gloom. It was nice to have a break.
Even if this was a forced one.
Winnie spun in a slow circle in the middle of the foyer, her dress flaring out around her as she held her phone at arm’s length. Her camera, as always, was on and focused on her. “Just take a look at this. It’s literally insane. Like, who lives like this?”
She said it to the invisible audience on the other end of the screen, pivoting to capture the marble floors, sweeping windows, and carefully arranged flowers that probably had cost more than my monthly operating budget for the west gardens.
Being forced to travel to Chicago after Father had returned from a charity ball acting like the world would end if I didn’t come hadn’t exactly been ideal, especially since I was here as Winnie’s glorified babysitter. But I had to admit, it wasn’t unpleasant. Quiet in its own way. Very different to back home.
I clasped my hands together loosely and watched her spin.
“I swear,” she said to her followers. “This suite is bigger than our house.”
Okay, now that was objectively untrue, but accuracy had never been a priority in Winnie’s line of work. She pivoted again, angling the phone toward herself now.
“I’m here with my family for, like, this super old-school business thing, which is honestly so random, but whatever?—”
And I’ve heard quite enough.
I slipped away while she kept talking. If I stayed, she’d rope me into it eventually. She always did. I would appear in the background like set dressing, and suddenly, there would be comments about everything from my clothes to my hair,and speculation about whether I wasthe normal one.
Honestly. Like beingthe normal onewas an insult. To her legion of loyal followers, it was probably the ultimate insult, but I quietly took pride in being normal.
Retreating into one of the bedrooms, I shut the door softly behind me, immediately appreciating the blissful silence. While I hadn’t come here by choice, Iwasready for a break.
Whatever that ended up looking like.
Even if it was just a few days where no one needed anything from me. No tour groups to schedule. No last-minute filming requests to accommodate.
Just some space and some time exploring an American city. I was reaching for my suitcase, intending to change into something less travel-wrinkled when a buzzing sound cut through the quiet. It was followed rapidly by a knock at the door.
Of course.
I closed my eyes briefly before turning around and heading back to the foyer. By the time I stepped out of my room, Father was already answering the door, his posture straight and his voice formal. He only spoke that way when he was speaking to someone he consideredimportant.
“Yes?” he said, eyeing the man waiting in the hall. A driver, by the looks of his cap and suit. “Are you Steven?”
“Yes, sir,” the man said politely. “Mr. Westwood sent me to bring you to the house whenever you’re ready.”
Father nodded briskly, not even bothering to glance at either Winnie or myself before he responded. “Yes, thank you. We’re ready.”
We absolutely werenotready. My travel clothes were awfully wrinkled, and Winnie probably hadn’t even realized yet that the same thing was true for her. She was still in the middle of her live stream.
“And the lighting in here is actually insane,” she was saying. “Like, this is perfect for content?—”
“Winnifred,” Father said sharply.
She froze mid-spin, snapping at him without even looking in his direction. “I’m working.”
