Chapter 92
Lucas is practically already engaged to Lara Ellington, and wives could easily be selected for Peter and me from the vast pool of elight heiresses from respectable families that my parents know.
On the day my parents announced out of the blue that the three of us would be getting married and a competition would be held determine our brides, I didn’t really know how to feel about it.
Just like every occurrence in my life, I welcomed the information with numbness.
Whatever, I thought. I don’t care.
My father scoffs. “Of course, you don’t. Because you don’t pay attention to anything that affects this family. You’ve never cared, have you?”
I don’t say anything.
“Even now,” he continues, “you don’t care how this public reaction affects us. You don’t care how that girl affects us. She should never have been in the competition and the only thing you ever did right was eliminating her last night, and now, that needs to be reversed.”
My heart skips a beat. There it is—my parents will always, always, submit to the court of public opinion.
I swallow hard. “I don’t have anything to do with the posts.”
He cocks his head to the side, folding his arms. “Did I say you did?”
Shit.
He scoffs derisively. “You know you can’t marry her, right?”
I balk. “I never…I didn’t-”
“She can’t win,” he continues. “She’s here as a sympathy sponge, nothing more. Remember that.”
A familiar sensation washes over me–like my skin is shrinking, tightening over my bones. It happens a lot in my father’s presence.
When I don’t say anything, my father rolls his eyes, his lips twisting in a look of disgust that’s as familiar to me as my own reflection.
“Get out.”
…..” move…
I spin around a little too quickly, so I try to measure my steps as I head for the door. My legs feel wooden as I move.
As I reach the door, it swings inward, barely missing me. Lucas stands at the other end, looking surprised to see me.
Of course, he didn’t knock. My older brother has never needed permission to enter my father’s presence.
His surprise is quickly replaced by smugness. “Little brother,” he says coolly. I grit my teeth. He knows I hate it when he refers to me that way–so he insists on it.
1/2
15:13 Mon, Oct 6
Chapter 92
“I Tooks like Apell grie to die,” he save, & straner i 3 dow
Desen’t that pies you off?” he asks. “After sl, von Miminated by
*Dock it pick you off that Rachel gets to stay?” I shoot back.
He smirks. “Who?
I take a step towards him till we were practically chest to chest. Lucas is half an inch taller than me, and Flathur far hast every fiber of my being.
“I don’t know what your interest in April is, but I swear, if=”
“We’re in a competition, no?” He shrugs. “What if I end up marrying her?”
I resist the urge to growl like a possessive animal. The thought of April anywhere near Luca causes something ugly to furist in my cher
“That’s enough!” my father snaps. “Lucas, enter.”
“Yes, dad.” Lucas is the only one who calls Samuel Ashford ‘dad.‘
He shoulders past me roughly as he walks into the office and sits without being told to.
I step out and shut the door, grateful to be out of the suffocating space.
I lean against the oak panel and exhale, my body sagging. Inside, I hear an unfamiliar boisterous laugh. My father’s. A rare sound I’ve never been the cause of.
The numbness starts in my chest–where my heart should be–and spreads through my body to the tips of my fingers and toes.
Whatever, I don’t care.
Chapter Comments
B2
