I opened my door and stopped short. Four tall, menacing-looking men in black suits stood inside my suite. Just like that, four Theo shaped holes blasted into my chest.
When I moved from my suite, they followed me like shadows. I looked over my shoulder, slightly unnerved. They were even armed. When I opened the door to my wing, a fucking alarm went off.
I wondered what I’d done to piss off my mom so much to gather this much oversight.
They followed me all the way to my sister’s wing, not speaking when I entered her room without permission.
Theo would’ve said something.
And there was that pain.
Gemma had a secret she thought no one knew. I pulled an orange bottle out of a Louis Vuitton clutch she kept in her closet, opening the cap and dumping the contents into my hand. Little white pills fell into my palm. Little white pills she’d stolen from Mom, pills Mom didn’t need a reason for, because she donated so much to the hospital the doctor would prescribe whatever the fuck she wanted.
I dropped them into my mouth.
Everyone at our old school had been on some kind of prescription, usually doing a combo of the Holy Trinity: Xanny, Addy, and Oxy. Gemma’s drug of choice was Xanax.
It took a moment for the pills to kick in. When they did, the pain was still there, the constant ache, but it was dulled, fuzzy around the edges, not cutting into my heart so much.
Suddenly I wasn’t dreading another forgotten birthday, but I was hungry.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten… maybe two days ago, when the mysterious food from my favorite Crowne Drive-In Diner appeared. I couldn’t imagine Mom bringing that to me, let alone going to a drive-in diner.
When I came downstairs, there was a party.
A fucking party. On my birthday. That was just too much. Everyone was present: my family, the Harlingtons. The only one absent was my fiancé.
Pity.
My eyes zeroed in on Gemma.
Her hair glowed under the chandelier lights, her smile was radiant, and she laughed with Gray and our mom. I couldn’t take it.
Even on my birthday it was about her.
I wasn’t trying to be sneaky; it was just that everyone’s eyes were on Gemma all the time. Even with four certified bulwarks surrounding me, they focused on her. I grabbed a pair of scissors off a table filled with presents and approached Gemma.
I grasped a chunk of Gemma’s hair. The hair Theo’d probably tangled. The hair that lay on the same bed—
And cut off a chunk.
I could almost hear the party come to a crashing halt as eyes landed on me, my sister’s hair in my hands. Her flowing rose gold hair, the hair synonymous with being a fucking Crowne, and once voted most likely to drive a boy insane in boarding school, was now dead in my fingers.
Gemma’s hands flew to her head, feeling the empty space once filled with luscious tresses.
Gray laughed.
Mom looked at my ripped dress, my unwashed hair, still messy from the way Theo had tangled his hands in it, and the hoodie I wore over the bespoke dress, culminating in what I was calling broken-heart chic.
Her eyes narrowed on me, focusing on my probably glassy eyes.
My mom’s smile was tight when she spoke. “Abigail, are you unwell?”
That was Crowne for Are you fucking high right now?
Gemma had been asked that a few times too many. Gray occasionally.
I looked at the rose gold strands glimmering between my fingers. I felt empty. This didn’t erase what happened. Theo had still chosen her over me, like everyone else.