Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I think.
Fuck me sideways. And the nagging starts in three, two, one—
“You need to let your fixation with Vaughn go.” He speaks in a low, even voice. “It was stupid enough to fly to New York and fuck his girlfriend, then send him the video. He might let it go with blowing up your bike, so this is your chance to cut it out.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“The fuck is wrong with you? You want your dad to kill you or something?”
“What does this have to do with him? I’m just playing an extremely innocent game.”
“There’s nothing innocent about you, motherfucker.”
“That’s true. Anyway, seriously, you worry too much. My dad won’t find out. My revenge will be over before he gets wind of this.”
He narrows his eyes, then leans against the wall, his arms and ankles crossed. “Are you sure it’s even for revenge purposes at this point?”
“Of course it is.”
“Extremely doubtful.”
“God forbid a man wants another man to pay for his sins.”
“Four years after the fact?”
“I’m like a horse. I hold grudges for ages.”
“Camel.”
“What?”
“Camels are the animals known for holding a grudge, supposedly, at least.”
“Camel, horse, nobody gives a fuck.”
“I do.”
“You don’t count.” I shake my head and walk away. “Off to work out so I can look awesome at the party.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Does that mean I can’t shoot my way into the New York kids’ mansion?”
“What?”
“Just kidding.” I’m whistling as I wave without looking at him.
Cyrus can be tiring even in small doses, and it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he’s usually right.
Okay, most of the time.
Fiiine. Always.
My phone rings, and I grin as I pick up the video call from my sister.
Her face appears on the other end, soft and radiant with huge blue eyes and auburn hair that falls to her shoulders in waves.
Except for her eyes, Alina’s looking more and more like our mom, which is a blessing because this way, I feel like I’ll never forget our mother’s face.
“How’s my favorite girl?” I ask, holding the phone up as I walk out of the main entrance.
“Bored.” She pouts. “And stuck on this piece I’m working on.”
“Oh no, need me to beat some sense into someone?”
She laughs, her voice ringing all around me. “You’ll beat some sense into my brain?”
“If need be, absolutely.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“Nah, resourceful. There’s a difference.”
She rolls back, and my chest clenches when I see her in the chair, dressed in a beautiful dark-red gown. Her room appears in the background, full of posters of classical music soloists and albums. “What do you think? I’m wearing this for the recital tomorrow.”
“Stunning as usual. I wish I were there to cheer you on.”
“No, it’s better you don’t meet with Papa that often.” Her smile drops a bit before she rolls back to the camera.
My sister has been paralyzed for four years, and every time I look at her, I feel the knife I lodged deep in my soul move and slash through my very existence.
Dying a little is the correct term.
Because Alya wouldn’t be in this predicament if I were there.
If I weren’t so preoccupied with the unattainable.
The fucking lethal obsession.
“We’ll have to meet eventually,” I say, keeping my tone light.
“Well, eventually doesn’t have to be now.” She’s silent for a moment. “I wish you could stay far away forever.”
“And leave you behind? No way in hell.”
“He doesn’t torture me to near death like he does you.”
“I still don’t like that you’re on your own with Lukas and Mikailo there.” Lukas and Mikailo being our older half-brothers—from different mothers, because Dad liked to fuck around—you know, the same thing he promised to kill me for with a slight change of gender.
“They don’t care about me enough to kill me. I think being in a chair makes me no competition whatsoever, so silver linings, I guess.” She laughs.
I don’t.
My heart is ripping from the inside out.
Our half-brothers, who keep working like dogs for the emperor’s—sorry, Dad’s—approval, don’t see her as competition now. But the possibility of her having children that could challenge them in the future isn’t a risk they’re willing to take.
“Sorry, bad joke.” She winces. “Anyway, miss you. Will send you videos tomorrow, okay?”
“All right.”
“Seriously, stop looking so grim. I lost my legs and ballet, but I can still play the piano.”
“You loved ballet.”
“Not as much as playing the piano. I’m serious. I don’t even miss ballet anymore, because my love for the piano flourished and I realized I’m better at piano than dancing. I enjoy it a lot more, too. Maybe what happened was a good thing, so that I can dedicate myself to one activity and excel in it.”
“You excel at everything.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my brother.”
“Nah, you’re just amazing. I was your number one fan, remember? You used to make me sit around and listen to you play.”