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Tonight is going to go wrong. I know it.
That could be why I feel like shit. Also explainable with Warren having to use that injectable shit that he always carries for emergencies.
Having diabetes sucks balls.
The crazy thing is, I shouldn’t be plagued with such a dangerous illness in the first place. I’m not super into sweets, but beggars can’t be choosers when your little sister is involved.Whatever she ate, I was forced to partake in, which meant if we were having bags of sour keys and gummy bears for dinner, you wouldn’t dare say otherwise.
A shame that I’m the victim of circumstance while my sister is healthy as a newborn bird. Could also be because they get her checked and injected with all these fancy vitamins while I’m just… there.
It was the sudden fainting spells, matched with a very close incident that had me in an induced coma for a week, that forced Father to take me to a special private health institute that specializes in the analysis of diabetes.
By eighteen, I stopped attending their treatment center because, frankly, without Father’s financial backing, there was no way I could afford it. If I was a ‘real’ Prescott, there would be no questions about price tags and long-term treatment.
If I wasn’t an orphan, diabetes would be long gone from my system.
It’s instances like these that make me wonder why I’m doing all of this. Putting myself into these situations for a woman I’m not bonded to at a level of acknowledgment.
When, or if, she ever finds out what I’ve thrown myself in for her sake, what would she even say?Thanks, sis, for being the perfect distraction for the men who are now going to treat me like a princess after abusing you down to the core.It’s laughable at best when thinking about it.
Thinking about this only brings on a headache, which is why I end up sighing and pinching my nose. Functioning at 100% is going to be impossible with the lack of sleep, food, and motivation to give a shit.
Can’t I just pass right out again, so I don’t need to return to that shithole of bad memories?
“Verena.”
My response is sluggish as I give up trying to think of a way out of this. I’m not one to give up so easily, but this task already seems challenging. I know things haven’t even started rolling since the contract isn’t signed, but with us being set up practically three times, I’m concerned that this is only going to get more deadly by the hour.
Fun.
“Yes?” I finally respond, only to further open my eyes to see the presented pill at Warren’s fingertips. “And nope.”
Nasty pills that make me feel like I’m fucking doped up.
“This is non-negotiable,” he grumbles, meaning he doesn’t want me to take it, but someone higher than me is ordering him to administer it.
Which means…
“Who the fuck told Father?” I seethe.
“May have been Domino,” Warren confesses. “Could have spooked him out with you passing out a second time today. Three times in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Jeez. Can’t even mind his fucking business,” I grumble and stand up. I feel the way my silk dress flows down to my ankles. The red ensemble is perfect. Simplistic yet sewn in such a way that gives the perfect ruched effect.
The attire accents my cinched waist and wider hips and most definitely complements my pale complexion and silver hair. I had to go a bit heavier on the makeup to hide my dark eyes and how exhausted I looked, but it wasn’t as difficult as I originally thought.
Topped with Falu Red shade lipstick by Dior and the perfect original set of red bottoms, my look is worthy enough to attend a dinner with royals.
If only I could just vomit and stay home instead of taking this capsule shit.
“I’m not doing it, Warren.”
“We can argue all night, and you know the conclusion I’ll be forced to take.”
“Of course.” It pisses me off. Having someone who gets me, yet he’s not mine because he’s tied to a paid contract that gives him a worthy enough salary to spend his years watching my ass 24/7.
As if I’m so fucking precious to the world.
That’s the irony of it all.
