by Leia Thorne
Like life.
Then my mother lost hers…so what’s left to value or even fear now?
I glance out the large window, taking in the town. Those values may have worked in Camden Heights, but it’s not the same here. Crescent Valley is its own ridiculous universe. And it may make me weak to admit, but my life would be a hell of a lot easier with a stack of money at my disposal.
I can still feel Gage on my skin. His touch, his scent. He’s all over me. One thing this past year has taught me well is how to compartmentalize. I can’t have Gage looking too closely, suspicious. He just needs to believe that I’m a lovesick, helpless weakling of a girl that will submit to his every desire.
By the time I spot the Town Car outside, I’ve committed to this plan. The only way to discover why Gage chose me is to play the player. There might be a little revenge nestled in there also. I’m not a jealous person by nature, but I’m not a fucking doormat either.
Marvin opens the car door for me with a formal greeting as he informs me that I’m to meet with Mrs. de Pont at her house—which was a poor description. When we reach the destination, mansion or chateau is far more fitting, as it freaking looks like a castle perched on a tall hill overlooking the lake.
For some reason, I thought I’d be signing papers in an office. As Marvin leads me into the home, I notice paintings along the walls. Images and painted portraits of Lesley are everywhere. Nausea pits my stomach.
“Right through here, Ms. James.” Marvin directs me toward a study at the end of a long hallway.
As I enter, the scent of lavender eases some of my nerves. The room has wall-to-ceiling shelves lined with books. I can smell the musty scent of old pages mingling with the potpourri.
“Remi, welcome.” Mrs. de Pont arrives through a side door behind a large ebony desk. She looks immaculate. Her sharply angled dark hair is silky smooth, falling right at her shoulders, and she’s wearing a black business suit that somehow looks just as fiercely feminine as it does sophisticated.
I give her a tight smile. “Thank you,” I say, looking around. “This room is impressive.”
She beams. “It’s my pride and joy… Well, it’s second, of course, after Lesley. This was her favorite room of the house. So I made it mine.” She turns away to stare at one of the text and removes it from the shelf. “A first edition Wuthering Heights.”
“Oh, my god. That’s amazing. Can I look?”
She hands it over. “Of course. Have you read it?”
“It’s my all-time favorite,” I say, as I caress the bound book reverently.
When I glance up at her, she’s watching me just as intently. “It was also one of Lesley’s favorites.”
I swallow hard as I hand her back the book. “Everyone should read the classics,” I say.
Her smile is fragile. “So very true,” she says, then quickly places the book on the shelf. “I have the paperwork all drawn up here.” She points to the ebony desk.
As I read through the documents, I try my best to make sense of the language, but it’s all lawyer speak. I probably should’ve hired my own lawyer—but that would’ve meant involving my father. So I sign my name what feels like a few hundred times, and place the pen down.
“It’s all really very simple,” Mrs. de Pont assures me. “Your grandmother was thorough. She made sure everything was carefully arranged.”
I stand, needing to stretch. “So how does this work?”
She moves around the desk to stand beside me. “I’ll process the paperwork on Monday, and next month, upon your eighteenth birthday, you’ll become one of the wealthiest heiresses in Crescent Valley. On the east coast, really.” She tilts her head and smiles. “I was always taught it was tacky to talk specific numbers but…” She touches my shoulder consolingly. “I’ll divulge the amount then. There will be a lot to take in before your birthday. I promise, as I swore to your grandmother, you won’t have to handle this transition alone. We have a few weeks to prepare you. How about I pick you up after school on Monday. We can go over the finer details at the bank together.”
I nod a few times. “Sounds good. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure, Remi.”
I turn to leave, and she catches my hand. “I was sincere last night when I offered to teach you to ride. That is, if you’re still interested. I would love to show you my stables. I wasn’t just leafing out pleasantries,” she says with a toss of her hand. “Every girl should be given such opportunities.”
I don’t want to seem rude and check the time on my phone, so I just nod. “Of course, I’m interested.”
“Wonderful.” She releases me and shows me out.
I was hoping to get more detailed information on the inheritance, but I suppose I can wait until Monday. It’s not as if I have pending bills to pay. Besides, learning a new elite skill such as horseback riding may come in handy. And it doesn’t hurt to have someone like Mrs. de Pont in my corner.
She leads me through the halls, and again, every wall is lined with portraits of Lesley. This whole mansion is like one huge, haunting mausoleum devoted to her.
Once we reach the outside stables, I’m nearly worn. “That’s a trek,” I comment.
Mrs. de Pont laughs. “I suppose it is.” She glances around the manicured acres of yard. “This is becoming too much house for just one lonely woman.”
A sinking feeling hits my stomach, remembering what Gage said about her and why she leased the penthouse to Lesley’s friends. I can only nod in reply. We round the corner of the gigantic stable and the smell of manure is overpowering. I cover my nose, then gasp as a black horse nays loudly to my right.
“He’s secured,” Mrs. de Pont assures. “His name is Heathcliff. He was beyond sullen when I purchased him. A stubborn, willful stallion. Hence the name.”
“He’s beautiful,” I say. As I stare at his long black main, I piece the details together. Heathcliff was Lesley’s horse. I recall the picture Mrs. de Pont showed me in the Town Car of Lesley riding a black horse. Her favorite room of the house was the study, and her favorite book was Wuthering Heights. This whole mansion is hers—she’s everywhere.
I swallow the ache in my throat as I glance over at Mrs. de Pont. She’d given her adoptive daughter everything. She must have loved her very much. I can see the sad creases that bracket her otherwise smooth mouth; the frown lines that are deep-set. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. Her, a daughter. Me, a mother. We’re connected in that way.
“You can feed him if you’d like,” she says, jarring me out of my thoughts. “Here. Give him this—” she hikes over to a pail and scoops out a bucket of grains “—he has very expensive taste. Nothing but the best oats for his majesty.”
I accept the pail. As I let Heathcliff sniff and devour his oats, I peek over at her and notice her drawn expression. Her gaze lingers on the silver ring on my finger, and my chest prickles with alarm.
Does she know it belonged to her daughter?
“Mrs. de Pont—”
“Dear, please call me Tabatha.” She smiles pleasantly, diverting her gaze quickly.
I inhale a quick breath. “Tabatha, last night, you said the truth will come out. Can I ask what you meant?”
She considers my question for a lengthy moment. “It’s no secret that this town has raised a generation of spoiled elitists.” She pets Heathcliff’s nose. “The children of Brighton Saints can be cruel, Remi. Airing that video at the dance was just another nasty prank by such children.”
My brows crease together. “You think it was one of Lesley’s friends who did that?” But why? That video did not paint Gage and Sawyer in the best light. I can’t believe either one of them would want to make it public.
She sniffs hard. “You watched it yourself,” she says. “The way they treated her. It’s not enough that they drove her to end her own life… No. Malice has no expiration date.”
The question pops out before I can stop myself. “Who was with her that night?”
Her dark eyes alight on me. “I’m sorry?”
“The video just ended,” I say, “but there was more. After Gage and Sawyer left that night.”
“Oh.” She nods in understanding. “That’s the cruelty, you see. Whichever one of the little pranksters aired the video manipulated it to cut off right at the perfect time to raise suspicion. Keep Lesley’s suicide a topic of conversation. This town suffers the dire boredom that only money can afford.” She turns my way. “Marvin was there. I had sent him back to fetch my bag, as I was leaving town that evening. He heard the whole fight, then promptly left at Lesley’s embarrassment.” She frowns, and her eyes glisten. She blinks back the unshed tears.
So there is no mystery to uncover in Lesley’s death. I can fit the rest of the puzzle together. The driver left, leaving behind a distraught girl, who decided she no longer wanted to live her life.
The only mystery is in discovering who would want to play the video to make it seem like there was more?
“I’m so sorry this is happening.” It’s all I can say.
Mrs. de Pont nods perceptively. “Thank you, Remi. Don’t worry. I already have the police working diligently on tracing the signal feed from last night.” She smiles tightly. “As I said, the truth will come out. Whoever is responsible will be held responsible and punished to the fullest extent.”
She gathers a bridle and other gear from the wall of the stable, then proceeds to open the gate to Heathcliff’s stable. “I think taking him for a walk today will be a good start,” she says. “We’ll commence riding lessons another day. How does that sound?”
I nod in agreement. I’m not really in the mood to ride, my mind too heavy, spinning theories.
As we lead the stallion around the horse trail, I decide that I like it here. It’s peaceful, and there’s an ease between Tabatha and me where we don’t have that uncomfortable need to fill the silence with useless talk.
“He hurt you,” she says suddenly.
Taken by surprise, I shake my head. “No… I mean, who?”
“Gage,” she says, and sends a sly look over her shoulder. “I saw it on your face last night. He’s done something horrible to you, hasn’t he?”
A hard lump forms in my throat. “Just stupid high school stuff,” I say, trying to conceal the gruffness in my voice.
“Nonsense. If that were the case, if emotions and wounded feelings were so easily ignored and brushed off, then my Lesley would still be here.”
The anguished tone of her voice is wrenching. But she’s not wrong, so I take a chance. Maybe there’s at least one person in this sordid town that I can trust. “I fell for Gage…and his lie. That he cared about me.”
She nods slowly, knowingly. “Like I mentioned before, I’m well acquainted with the Astor family and Gage. I’ve known him since he was just a boy.” She takes her time rounding the bend, leading the horse. “Gage has always been vicious in his endeavors. If there’s something he wants, he doesn’t let anything or anyone stand in his way to obtain it.”
A clipped laugh falls from my lips and I shake my head. “That’s very true.” He pursued Sawyer relentlessly; he used me to get to her. Now that he’s obtained exactly what he wanted, he’s still using me…although I haven’t quite figured out what his endgame is yet.
“It was the same way with Lesley,” Mrs. de Pont says, her voice low. “There was this particular thing he wanted of her, and when he realized he wasn’t going to get it…”
I stop walking. “What?”
She faces me, and fans her hand through the air. “Oh, nothing, dear. I shouldn’t bring it up, as it’s in the past.” Her smile is forced. “Just be wary when dealing with Gage. I feel it’s my responsibility to at least warn you.” Her eyes turn serious. “I wish I could’ve been more proactive for my own daughter.”
Silence settles between us, and she continues walking the horse. As we come up to the stable, I embolden myself to ask the question I really want answered. “Mrs. de Pont…” I trail off, searching for the right words.
“Yes?” After the horse is stabled, she walks toward me. “Remi, please feel free to ask me anything you want to.”
I nod, then say, “Do you know why my grandmother disowned my father?”
She takes a deep breath, her chest rising with the effort. “That’s a long story,” she says, cupping my shoulder and leading me back toward the house. “And one I may not be entitled to reveal to you…but—” she pauses briefly to smile down at me “—as we’re going to be spending so much time together riding, I’ll do my best to explain.”
That’s all she’s willing to reveal for today—and that’s okay. The promise is there. She has the answers—answers to my family, my father. My past.
Kindling a friendship with this woman is more than just advantageous; she has knowledge, she harbors power—over this town and its residents. I had wanted to model myself after Sawyer, but in the end, Sawyer lost her edge. She became weak. She let Gage destroy her.
I have a feeling Tabatha de Pont doesn’t go down so easily.
She’s the key to destroying Gage Astor. And what’s more? Tabatha de Pont wants him destroyed. I can see it in her eyes, that desire to inflict pain, to have her revenge.
All the answers lie with her.
Chapter 7
Sawyer
Monday morning at Brighton Saints is met with suspicion and intrigue. I’ve heard that the video footage of Lesley went viral over the weekend. Honestly, it’s not as if there was anything too controversial in that video. But the fact that Gage and I were there, were last to see her alive, has cast a suspicious halo around us and the Broken Saints.
I walk the old gothic hallways of the academy in a sort of daze, my earbuds plugging my ears, as a Taylor Swift song fills me with fight. I hold my head high in spite of the narrowed-eyed gawks and hand-concealed whispers. I’m Sawyer Van Doren dammit, and I’m above reproach.
This is still my school.
I spot Palmer waiting for me at my locker. I’m aware that Gage called everyone to the treetop yesterday to discuss the matter, because she’s been sending me updates. She’s loyal to me. Gage also kept his word…for whatever it’s worth. The discussion to send me away was tabled. My mother suddenly had a moment of clarity, where she realized my spending time with “the Masters boy” was simply acting out on my part.
Her solution: therapy. I have an appointment to see Dr. Callahan after school. I’ll see him for therapy sessions twice a week. This is its own form of involuntary commitment. But it’s better than the alternative, and maybe I can use the sessions to my advantage.
My mother and Marshall Astor have reconciled. There was never any real threat that the wedding would be called off. I knew this, and yet, I allowed myself to be manipulated by Gage. I allowed it to be my excuse to lose myself in a moment and just give in to my desire.
There’s a price to pay for such weakness, and I’m paying it.
A furrowed line develops between Palmer’s softly arched brows as I approach.
I pull out my earbuds and prop my hands on my hips. “What is it now?” I ask her. Ever since Saturday morning, when I didn’t show up at the treetop, Palmer has been extra needy. She’s always been a bit clingy with me, but she’s taken it to the next level.
She bites her lip, nervous. “I just don’t understand what happened,” she says. She’s been voicing this all weekend to me, trying to force me to explain what happened to her. I can’t even explain it to myself. “Everything was so perfect at the dance, and then…” She shakes her head. “You and Gage have had little fights before. This will pass, too, right?”
She wants me to quell her worry—to promise her that nothing has changed. That we’ll all be together again at the treetop soon. And I could very well say those words—but to what end? It’s time Palmer opened her eyes to what is really going on around here.
“Palmer,” I start, but she interrupts, her voice becoming frantic.
“He’s not the same witho
ut you,” she says quickly.
This gets my full attention. “What are you talking about?”
“Gage,” she says, stressing his name. “He’s…extra. Like, over-the-top alpha mode. He needs you.” She blinks up at me. “I need you there.”
My shoulders deflate. My school uniform shirt rubs against my back, the abrading on my skin from the stone wall a painful reminder of Gage and what we did. “It will be all right, Palm. We’re just taking a break. We need one, trust me.” I turn toward my locker and spin the lock.
“Why did you have to be with Roland?” she demands.
Indignation wells up within me, and I slam my locker open. I fluff my bangs in the mirror. “Why does it matter who I choose to be with?”
In the mirror, I see her pucker her bottom lip out in a pout. “You’ve always said what a loser he was, and then…” She sighs dramatically. “It just doesn’t make sense, Sawyer. Did you do it just to make Gage jealous? Because I would totally understand that. Just level with me.”
I get it now; she feels betrayed. I kept this from her. Our little society is all about secrets…but we don’t keep them from each other.
I move closer to touch her arm, and she backs away. I feel as if I’ve been slapped. “Palm, you just don’t realize what it was like for me,” I say.
She holds up a hand. “Everyone thinks I’m so clueless.” She scoffs. “Well, I’m not. I get it. Gage is relentless. But couldn’t you just give in to him once? Why Roland? God, what happened after you two left the dance?”
I glance around the hallway, noticing gazes turning our way. “Nothing happened.” I shut my locker and cross my arms.
Palmer nods forcefully. “Gage was right,” she says. “You’ve changed.”
I want to scream. Palmer was my disciple. My work of art. She was mine, and within a day’s time, Gage has tainted her and turned her against me. All because I chose to follow after Roland and leave him in that tower.
