PROLOGUE
ELODIE - FOUR YEARS AGO- AGE 20
South Brook, New York
I pressmy palm against my stomach in an attempt to subdue the rising nausea.
Do what he says, or you know who’ll pay the price, Elodie.
My mother’s words reverberate inside my mind on a near-constant loop while the severity of her features as she uttered them fills my vision. Her icy-blue eyes held nothing but disdain, a sentiment I am exceptionally familiar with inside these walls.
Walls that have seen too much hate and known too little love.
Walls that have taught me there’s nothing to gain by being bitter. After all, if life gives you lemons, you can always make some fucking lemonade.
An embittered laugh tumbles from my mouth, and I swallow as I recall the calculated malice that had oozed from every syllable that left my mother’s carefully glossed lips.
You know who’ll pay the price, Elodie.
At that, I blow out a steadying breath because I knowpreciselywho’ll pay.
With that thought at the forefront of my mind, I square my shoulders, tossing my long blonde locks back right as there’s a soft knock on my bedroom door.
“Come in.” My words sound hollow even to my own ears, and I huff in exasperation, knowing I can do much better than that.
Cleo, the household manager, pokes her more-salt-than-pepper head around the door frame with an easy smile.
“Miss Elodie, the guests are arriving. Your mother has requested your presence in the foyer.”
I smile brightly, forcing a lightness I don’t feel. I’m getting better at it as the years have passed. Most people don’t see the lies behind the smiles.
My goal is thatno onesees.
So, I inject my tone with enthusiasm. “Thank you, Cleo. I’ll be right down.”
She nods once, leaving the door slightly ajar as she departs. Keeping my smile plastered to my face, I carefully adjust my jewelry and check my soft nude lips in the mirror before following her.
“Ellie! Come play with me.”
An exaggerated whisper from behind makes me chuckle as I glance back to see three-year-old Skye watching through the banister spindles.
“Later, Curly Fry.”
I blow her a kiss, making her laugh uproariously, and witnessing her blissful innocence makes my heart feel lighter in my chest.
Shoulders back. Head up. Smile on. You got this, Rivers.
Skye’s nanny plucks her from the floor to cart her back to the nursery, as I face forward once more. I steel myself for whatever my father has planned for tonight, locking a smile in place as I begin my ascent to the ground floor.
An early celebration of my twenty-first birthday. I can barely stifle an eye roll at the sheer absurdity.
My family only cares about the aesthetics. How things look. How the Rivers family is perceived.
A birthday party isn’t a way to show they care. It’s an excuse to show off how seemingly perfect our lives are.
To cover the rot that permeates the core of our family.
As I reach the ground floor, I falter, noticing Father’s business partner, Jeremy Danvers, cutting through the crowd, clearly intent on monopolizing my time.
