Chapter 18
“The contestants were chosen for their own merits, not their background,” Nathan says with characteristic eloquence. “April Farrah was chosen likewise. The Ashfords respect the preliminary selection results and the appearance of a dependent ward did not change that. If anything, April should be commended for her courage to stay in this competition while caring for her little sister. It shows a tenacity that is required in an Ashford.”
His words make my throat close up with emotion and my eyes water. I might actually shed a tear–then he adds, “I want to reiterate, that the Ashfords do not care about background. Both the privileged and underprivileged are welcome in this competition and will be given a fair shot at becoming a bride. We don’t care about trivial, petty things like background or influence.”
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The reporters applaud, and Samuel looks immensely pleased with Nathan’s response. Peter, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, and when they meet mine, he shrugs like: See? I told you so.
And he did tell me so. The rest of the speech, especially the last part–Peter’s exact words to me that day–makes my eyes dry up and a bitter taste spread in my mouth.
The Ashfords are generous and altruistic and have big fucking hearts. I wonder if Nathan came up with the script all by himself or if someone wrote it for him.
I think I’d have preferred not knowing what he thought of me. Because his words, his robotic, impersonal words, make me feel even more conflicted than usual.
Does he really believe everything he said? Does he actually think I’m courageous and commendable? Or was that also part of the script?
I push those thoughts out of my head and focus on the press conference, careful not to look at Nathan or make further eye contact with Peter.
I listen as question after question is asked, and one or two Ashfords answer elegantly.
“Rumor has it that the competition is actually for only two spots,” one reporter says.
Samuel raises a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, the presence of Lara Ellington prompted that debate. It’s no secret how close the Ashfords and the Ellingtons are. It makes the public wonder if she hasn’t already been chosen behind the scenes as a bride for one of the heirs.”
I glance at the girl in question, and she doesn’t look the least bit fazed. I wish I could be so confident and sure of myself.
Samuel shakes his head. “That rumor is baseless. Lara is a contestant like every other young lady. The competition is completely open and transparent; the public’s opinion matters greatly to us and my sons will choose their brides referencing the public’s opinion and the results of the competition. I assure you, there is no predetermined outcome. No one, not Lara Ellington or anyone else is favored to win.”
Lara’s smile falls slightly; I’d have missed it if I wasn’t paying attention.
It’s evident she doesn’t approve of Samuel’s answer, and I bet I know what she’s thinking–what everyone is thinking. Predetermined or not, Lara is destined to be an Ashford bride. She has everything: the public’s approval, education, poise, and–despite what Nathan or the rest of the Ashfords say–she has the perfect background.
The press conference finally ends, and relief floods me.
Easton mentioned yesterday that after the Ashfords were interviewed, we could wait behind and answer questions from any of the reporters if we wanted. But I don’t linger for even a second. I grab June’s hand just as a reporter heads in our direction and hightail it out of the garden.
“You don’t want to answer questions?” June asks innocently as I lead us back into the mansion.
I squeeze her hand. “No, hon. I’m tired,” I lie. I will not expose my sister to the curious, judging eyes of the public more than she’s already been.
“Wanna take a nap?” she asks sweetly,
I smile down at her, knowing that she, too, most likely feels exhausted from all the excitement. “A nap sounds divine.”
If, for even a couple of hours, I can curl up with my sister and forget about this morning, it’ll be amazing. I just hope Nathan doesn’t show up in my dreams like he’s been doing lately.
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Chapter 18
I’m surprised to enter my room and find Jessica and Lucy there.
Both of them are huddled together, their heads bowed over a phone. They look up simultaneously when I walk in, and I’m taken aback by the look on their faces.
Delighted.
My maids–who before now have been sullen at worst, distantly polite at best–look delighted to see me.
“Um…” I glance at June, and she looks equally confused. “Hi?”
“Miss!” Lucy exclaims, rushing forward to meet me. It looks like she wants to hug me but at the last minute remembers herself. So she settles for taking my free hand and shaking it enthusiastically.
“They love you!”
I frown. “Who?”
“Everyone!” Jessica answers, rushing forward and practically shoving the phone in my face. I take it from her hand and move it away slightly so I can see properly.
“So she’s like a representative for the common people? Love it!”
“It’s giving dramaaaaa.”
“If she wins, it’ll be like a real–life Cinderella story!”
“I know her, she lives in my apartment complex!”
“Nathan said background doesn’t matter. She could actually win!”
“Her little sister is so freaking adorable!”
“April for the win!”
“The Ashfords are unlike any other conglomerate family.”
“She’s literally the prettiest girl in the competition.”
“It’ll be so satisfying if she wins.”
“I want her to win.”
“I hope she wins.
Comment after comment, speculating about me, wishing me well, hoping I win.
“They…like me?”
Lucy nods. “They really do. Some are even saying you might win.”
I shake my head. “That’s absurd.”
Jessica smiles. “Is it? You never thought you’d get this far, right?”
I sink into the mattress. She’s right–1–never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be living in a mansion, eating world–class meals, and wearing gorgeous dresses.
What if…
I shake my head and hand the phone back to Jessica. “Are you…okay?” she asks, assessing me skeptically.
Am I okay?
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Chapter 18
No, I don’t think so. Because those comments are swimming round and round in my head like a whirlpool, they’re overthrowing Peter’s attitude, Nathan’s comments, and my fears.
And they’re giving me something I haven’t had since I entered this damned competition: Hope.
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