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NINETEEN
STELLA
UNCLE STEPHAN: Your presence is expected tonight for dinner. Do not disappoint me. You will regret it if you do.
Just perfect. Once again, another threatening text from him to start my morning. It’s like my days are not complete without feeling like I’m worthless, and my uncle reminding me how much he despises me.
It’s been some time since he’s asked me to join him for dinner, preferring to pretend I don't exist when other people are concerned, but today feels different. For a moment I thought maybe he’d forgotten me, hoping that he’d given up and moved on to bigger and better pursuits to continue his legacy. After all, why would he want a girl he hates more than anything in this world, one he’s ashamed of being related to, to continue his legacy? I guess blood is thicker than water, and in this case, mine will drown me.
Deep down, I have this unsettling feeling I only get when one of his hateful beatings follows. I haven’t done anything to piss him off, at least nothing out of the ordinary. He’s rarely in town these days, not like I’m complaining. Even having moved out of his home, I am still forced to hide everything I do from prying eyes around town that may relay the message to him. However, I find it odd he’s suddenly summoning me. Maybe he’s discovered my friendship with Elijah, maybe he’s aware of all the times I’ve snuck around, maybe those messages got to him after all.
I’m afraid of what may come of this dinner, knowing well enough the clock is ticking on his ultimatum. There it goes again, my anxiety crippling me.
I am a month shy of the timeline he’s given me, one month away from accepting my destined fate. Yet here I am, no closer to finding a suitable husband, knowing well enough that Elijah’s insane offer to marry me once I told him of my uncle's ultimatum will never be accepted. Even if I wanted it to, which I told him I didn’t, Stephan would never agree to it. Elijah isn’t of the samebreedas I am. Words my uncle and hisfriendsbelieve, not me.
I couldn’t care less if Elijah doesn’t have a penny to his name, though I’d never allow him to sacrifice his happiness for me.
Deciding to dress for the occasion, I can’t risk my less than presentable attire being a contributing factor to one of his delightful beatings, I slip into a suede skirt and an off-the-shoulder long sleeve, both in a light cream color, and tie my hair up in a ponytail allowing a few loose strands to frame my face.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and involuntarily cringe. My eyes are sunken in, surrounded by terrifying dark circles and heavy bags, which make me look like I haven't slept in ages. My complexion is irritatingly pale, the bright summer sun doing nothing but increasing the number of freckles on the bridge of my nose. I look just as I feel inside. Broken. Useless. Used.
Rustling through my top drawer, I fish out my container of pills, unable to fathom seeing him without them. I despise Stephan Silver, but the high my medication gives me is enough to stomach the pain of being near him.
I swallow down a single pill effortlessly. No water, no need to shove it down my throat. It’s become second nature to me. The container is still in my hands, my fingers rubbing over the label.
Stella Ivy Silver. Alprazolam 3mg Tablets. Take twice a day as needed for anxiety.
I can’t believe what it’s come down to. I haven’t had a panic attack in weeks, yet I medicate daily. I tell myself it’s to prevent one from happening, but the truth is I don’t know how to function without them. I swore I’d never become my mother, barely able to stay awake because she was so heavily medicated. She became a husk of a human being, a ghost aimlessly wandering around the house on the rare occasion my father let her out of her room.
That’s exactly what I’ve become. A ghost.
Only I wish I’d disappear for good.
Once I arrive at the estate, a sudden eerie feeling overcomes me. I have nothing but horrifying memories of this place. Stepping into the foyer, I immediately hear him in his study, my whole body going stiff with fear. Debating if I should enter or wait until he finds me out here, I walk over to the door, deciding it’s safer to enter before I make him angry.
The moment I fill the doorway, he spots me as if sensing my proximity. His daunting gaze finds me immediately, a look of disdain crossing his eyes as he takes in my appearance. I tried my hardest to look presentable, even went a little heavy on the makeup to hide my lack of luster. Thanks to my nightly escapades with Ruby, I learned to apply makeup better, disguising myself as a complete stranger in order to fit in with the crowd at The Jungle.
Regardless, Stephan clears his throat, summoning me to him. “Stella, my dear, please come. I have a few people I’d like you to meet.”
I enter the room and walk over to where he stands with two faceless men. I can tell one is older with graying hair and a stern expression as he turns and faces me, but the other, who is obviously taller and younger, remains with his back turned to us. They’re both dressed in expensive suits like the one my uncle wears, clearly a sign of power, just like the man in the room before me.
“This is an old friend of mine, The Honorable Judge Anthony Pearce. The Pearce family has been in Hillcrest Hills since the founding of the town over a century ago. Anthony’s father was a judge here prior to his nomination into the Supreme Court by the President himself.”
I internally scoff. A judge. Of course my uncle has a judge on his payroll. How else would he be able to elude half of the corruption he gets away with on a daily basis. Once hisbusiness dealwith Mr. Carlyle fell through, the deal he was trying to make by marrying Sebastian off with Kinsley, he’s been acting stranger than usual. Paranoid almost and desperate to find a replacement investor. I guess Judge Pearce is the unlucky bastard he’s going to swindle next.
Judge Pearce struts over to where I stand, extending his hand out to me as his gaze roams over me, making me awfully uncomfortable. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear. You’re more beautiful than your uncle led on,” he jokes, patting my uncle on the back as he laughs. My heart stops as the old man continues to stare at me, clearly judging my appearance. The way he looks at me is crude and makes me fold my arms over my chest in an effort to hide my appearance.
My heart drops.
He wouldn’t.
My uncle wouldn’t marry me off to this old fool. I know he couldn’t be so cruel. Only deep down, if it meant securing his fortune, I know he definitely would.
“This is my youngest son, Elijah. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”
The man behind Judge Pearce, the taller one I now notice, is dressed head to toe in Armani Privé. Black pants, a matching suit coat, and a dark navy dress shirt. His brown hair is combed in place, his beard neatly trimmed, and warm hazel eyes with specs of green and gold, soft and kind, meet mine with an apologetic smile.
Eyes I’ve stared into so many times recently.
