I stay limp on the bed, but crack my eyes open surreptitiously and scout the area as much as possible. The bed’s large, probably king-size, and we look to be in at least a two-bedroom suite in a hotel. Aunt Doris, holding a phone to her ear, undoubtedly booked and paid for it with my money. Continuing to play Sleeping Beauty isn’t such a bad idea when my head hurts from whatever their doc injected me with so I wouldn’t fight back on the flight from Nesovia to Vegas.
“Can’t we just slip some cash to the clerk?” Rupert’s nauseating voice comes through on speaker.
“And get arrested?”
“We gotta hurry up. There’s only six months left,” he says impatiently.
“You don’t have to remind me. If you’d been able to butter her up…!” She lets out a soft growl of frustration. “Just how hard is it to say some sweet nothings and seduce her? It isn’t like she’s surrounded by boys!”
True. Since my aunt and her family can’t have their source of income fall into someone else’s hands, they made sure to keepme away from not just boys, but most girls my age as well. I have no bestie I can call and pour my heart out to, and the only classmate I sort of know is Ethan Beckman, who was in the classic art course I took online. But since then, we've lost contact.Thank you, Doris.
Nesovia has some of the shittiest and most archaic inheritance laws in the world. Until I’m married or turn thirty—whichever comes first—I can’t control my own money. So Doris, as my sole living blood relative, has had control over my sixty-billion-dollar inheritance since I was eight.
Initially, she was good to me, always making sure to treat me as well as Rupert, although she told me at least once a week that Rupert saved me from the forest fire twenty-two years ago. The constant reminder was irritating, but Doris claimed it was to help me remember even though the details never seem to add up. Besides, I just can’t imagine Rupert lifting a finger for anybody unless it benefited him. And he was only ten back then, too young to understand the complexity of my inheritance situation.
Everything changed when I overheard her and Rupert a couple weeks before my thirteenth birthday. They were disappointed I still couldn’t accept how Rupert saved me from a horrible death—being burned alive is pretty shitty, after all—and somehow failed to fall in love with him. So they wanted to engineer a heroic scenario, which they’d make sure would be embedded in my memory forever. The plot was simple, albeit clichéd. I was to get kidnapped and Rupert would rescue me. Doris believed I’d fall in love with him for sure and marry him as soon as I was old enough. Then they could rightfully take full control over my trust.
I should’ve kept my mouth shut and played them. But my youthful brattiness and inexperience made me lash out. Doris took away my phone and started to control me, including puttingdrugs into my food. Unlike me, she understood the importance of managing public perception.
While living lavishly onmymoney, she goes on TV and other media to brag about how she’s fighting for girls in Nesovia to gain agency. Her dream is to leave a name for herself—a legacy of her own, since Grandfather refused to let her run Hayworth Shipping. Of course, if she really believed what she spewed, she would’ve handed me the reins over my finances when I turned twenty-one.
“I tried, but she’s impossible! She’s probably a lesbian!” Rupert shouts in impotent fury.
I’m not. But I could be if he were the only man left. Hell, entering a nunnery would be a better option.
“She’s too stupid to know when somebody’s flattering her!” he adds. “Andstubborn. She won’t accept my explanation.”
“About what?”
“That what she overheard back then about the abduction plot was a misunderstanding.”
Won’t accept it because he’s too stupid to make me believe it. Lies only work if you’re sincere in your deception—you have to believe your own bullshit. Sadly, his contempt and derision for me are obvious every time we interact. He could drop to his knees, kiss my feet and call me his goddess, and I still wouldn’t believe him.
And his girlfriend, Parker Jacoby, hasn’t helped the cause either. Rupert and Parker pretend they’re just friends—probably what they agreed to do in front of me—but she’s too impetuous and impatient to play her part with any consistency. Every time Rupert isn’t around, she shows off the fancy jewelry or purses he bought for her, doing her best to provoke me.
Her face turns red every time I respond along the lines of: “Things you bought withmymoney. So technically, it’s me who gifted you. No, no, no need to thank me, Parker. I don’t wantyour body. You aren’t my type, even if I were inclined to play for the other team. I prefer my bed partners intelligent and disease-free.”
It’s oh so satisfying to watch the steam come out of her ears, especially since she can’t do anything about my mockery. Telling Rupert would only earn his anger. She told me he’s only marrying me for money. Once he’s in control of my inheritance, he’ll get rid of me and marry Parker in a ceremony that will put the British royal family to shame. Clearly, she thought the revelation would upset and humiliate me. But you can only get upset if you have expectations. And those vanished years ago when I overheard Doris and Rupert talking about fake-kidnapping me.
It’s sad how low people can stoop for money. On the other hand, I guess sixty billion can negate pretty much anything, including one’s conscience.
“You should’ve just slept with her and gotten her pregnant!” Doris says.
So now rape is being packaged as “sleeping with”? Even more astounding—she actually believes that I’d have married Rupert if he forced himself on me! What century does she think we’re living in?
“I would have if she didn’t carry that damn fruit knife everywhere.”
I almost killed him when I slashed at his neck with it. When he came at me again, I threatened to cut my wrists. Since then, he's quit trying to force me physically. Anything that could cause my death isn’t worth the risk.
He continues, “But if you want, I could do it now.”
Dread unfurls, tensing every cell in my body. Doris probably took my knife away.Damn it.Is there anything I can use as a weapon in the room? There has to be a minibar with a corkscrew in this place.
“Never mind.” Doris sighs impatiently. “You’re going to marry her before midnight anyway.” A sharp ping from the phone. She looks at it, then gets back to Rupert. “I have to take care of this. Think of some good way to get her to agree to get the marriage license.”
“Fuck. Grandfather shouldn’t have let the money go to charity if she dies.”
“Shut up. What if somebody hears?” she hisses.
