I couldn’t look at him, but Theo’s silent presence sucked me in like a black hole.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You act like you’re the victim, but you’ve tried to steal every boyfriend I’ve ever had. If our life was a novel, I’d be the princess and you’d be the shitty, jealous villain begging a mirror to say she was pretty. I’d be furious if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic. They let you blow them or finger you, then come back to me because anyone with a brain can see you’re not worth it.” She paused to let me breathe from the brutal tongue-lashing before she delivered the final blow. “You’re one step up from a Fleshlight.”
“Your fiancé didn’t think so.” I could feel my insides squishing beneath my sister’s silver heel. Even I didn’t believe my words, and as her perfect pink smile grew wider, my uncertainty cemented.
“Did you think he did that without my permission?” She laughed. “My only condition was I got to see the look on your face when you found out once again you weren’t a second, or even third choice. You were barely a choice at all.”
I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to make them like me—imperfect, stained. Instead, I’d been used as a rag to make them cleaner.
My gaze connected with Theo’s brutal and unyielding green eyes, and that was when my tears fell. It wasn’t quite arrogance in them, it was almost… disappointment.
My tears burned like acid.
I couldn’t let them see.
My choices were humiliation by running away, or staying for a public, brutal shaming. So I ran. I pushed past them. I heard her laughter, but I kept running. I couldn’t listen to this; her truths cut like knives. A Crowne always learned truth hurt more, was cleaner, more effective. More than that, when you’re as powerful as us, you don’t need to lie. However vicious and razing a lie, you can always be assured you’ll rise above the rubble.
A Crowne didn’t lie… to others.
To ourselves, well, we were masters.
I ran and stumbled in the grass, my heel getting caught in the uneven, sandy terrain. I kept running until I tripped. I stumbled into a servant, and we both went down.
At first, I thought the most damage I’d done was to my ego, and maybe bruised the servant I’d knocked down a little, but I learned quickly enough how wrong I was when the pop and squeal sounded, followed by screams.
Fireworks.
I’d knocked into the servant setting up the fucking firework show, just as he was lighting the first one. I looked around frantically as one by one fireworks exploded without direction. It was a domino effect, the first lighting the second, and so on.
I stood up in time to see them explode in the garden.
“I didn’t do this,” the servant said, desperation leaking from every syllable. “You know I didn’t do this Ms. Crowne.”
I glanced at him. Maybe if it had been Gray who’d caused this, he’d be blamed. But it was me.
He had nothing to worry about.
One after another my mother’s artfully trimmed hedges were set ablaze, the dark night illumined in orange and yellow. Tonight’s firework show ruined.
Servers rushed to put out the fire in the garden. Partygoers screamed, running away from it. Startled swans jumped out of the water. It was a total fucking catastrophe.
I swiped tears out of my eyes.
Why couldn’t I ever do anything right?
Theo had asked if I was going to pull an Abby. In the end, I guess I had.
“Abigail Genevieve Crowne.” My mother clenched my arm so tight I swore it might bruise. “I know you’re behind this somehow, but smile and act like everything is fine.” Behind her Mrs. Harlington watched us, light-brown brows furrowed.
Out of the bushes, I saw Gemma walking toward me from the maze, laughing with Theo and Horace.
Everything was spiraling out of control, faster than the shrieking fireworks. Fire rose in my chest, and I clawed for a distraction. Something to make this not hurt.
“Am I ever going to meet my fiancé?” I yelled, tearing my arm out. ?
?Or are we just going to exchange cattle on my wedding and call it a day?”
Mrs. Harlington’s mouth dropped.