by Hart, Stella
The words pounded in my head in time with my heartbeat. Why did it sound so blatantly sexual, when all he was doing was telling me to stay put in the stair cupboard?
He turned and slowly opened the door before quietly stepping out into the hall. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, but for some reason it didn’t shut all the way. Through the little crack that was left, I could see him standing in the hall, lifting his hands up as the young woman with the gun approached.
My eyes widened. What the hell was he doing? The girl was obviously unstable. She could shoot him right now if she wanted, and at such a close range, she wouldn’t miss.
“Stay back!” she shrieked at him.
“I’m not moving. Just tell me why you’re here. I want to help you,” Elias said, his voice crisp yet soothing.
She let out a deranged cackle. “Yeah fucking right! You want to help me? What a load of shit.”
“You’re obviously upset, and I know you’re looking for something. Tell me what it is.”
From my hidden corner, I could make out the girl’s face as she drew closer. Her skin was even paler now and tears were beginning to stream down her cheeks, mixing with trails of caked mascara which had dried on her cheeks some time ago. She must’ve been crying on and off all day. “I want… I want my sister!” she choked out, growing more hysterical by the second.
“Who’s your sister?”
The girl took a deep, juddering breath, trying to calm herself enough to speak clearly. “Kylie Burns. I know she was involved with men like you.” She practically spat out the word ‘you’. “You rich fucks. You think you own the world. You think you can own other people!”
I frowned. The name she’d mentioned rang a bell, but I couldn’t recall exactly where I’d heard it before.
“What makes you think Kylie is here?” Elias asked, his voice deep and calm. I could see him eyeing the gun.
“This was the last place she came! She thought those guys wouldn’t hurt her. Thought it was just some party she was lucky enough to get invited to. But now she’s been missing for two fucking years!” she screeched, wiping her face with her free hand.
Comprehension dawned on me. That was where I’d heard the name before. Kylie Burns was a scholarship student at Roden University who went missing a couple of years ago. Apparently she’d had some sort of drug problem, and it was assumed that particular vice was linked to her disappearance. Despite extensive searches, no trace of her had ever been found.
“So your sister was here two years ago, and you think she’s still here after all that time?” Elias said. His voice was gentle, but his meaning was clear: she wasn’t making any sense.
Suddenly the girl took a faltering step back. “Oh my god… you’re one of them.” She waved the gun at Elias, motioning toward his right hand. At first I couldn’t see anything, but when he moved it slightly, I saw a gold ring on his middle finger. It caught the light long enough for me to register that it was there, but he moved again before I could make out any details. “You have the ring.”
“It’s just a ring,” Elias said calmly.
The girl sniffed and wiped her face again. “That’s what you all fucking say! That it’s just a ring. That it’s just a silly little club for parties. That I’m crazy for saying anything else is going on. I’m fucking sick of it!”
“I don’t have your sister. No one does. She’s not here.”
“Yes she is! Or maybe you fucking pricks have taken her somewhere else. So which is it, huh?” The girl’s free hand darted out to a nearby accent table and grabbed a large patterned china vase. She hurled it right at Elias.
The vase smashed right on his chest, showering the floor with shards of blue and white. He didn’t even flinch, but the sudden crashing sound made me shudder and let out an involuntary squeal. I brought my hand to my mouth to muffle the noise, but it was too late.
Through the crack, I saw the girl’s head jerk around to face the cupboard. “What the… is someone in there? You better fucking come out!” Her voice had risen an octave, and she was beginning to sound even more unhinged. “C’mon, join the party!”
She took a step closer to the cupboard, and my heart began to pound painfully. Maybe finding me watching her would be all it took to set her off with the gun again. My mouth dried up and my chest ached with tension and fear. I could see Elias staring toward the crack in the cupboard door as well, his eyes wide with concern.
“Look, you’re right, okay? Kylie was here, and she’s still here,” he said, his eyes darting from me to the girl. His voice was loud, thunderous, enough to make her forget all about the cupboard.
She turned to face him. “What?” Her eyes were wide as saucers.
“I said you’re fucking right. I know exactly where they’re keeping her. I can take you to her, but you need to put the gun down, because someone called the police, and they just walked in.” Elias’ gaze rose above her shoulder, looking down the hall. “You don’t want them to see you waving that thing around, or else you won’t live long enough to see Kylie again.”
The girl whirled around to look at the officers ostensibly heading her way. Elias took the opportunity to grab her arm and twist it around, making her shriek with pain as she dropped the gun. He kicked it over to the cupboard and called out to me. “Grab it, Tatum!”
I did as he said and crawled out from my hiding spot to pick up the pistol. It was cold and heavy in my hands, but I held it shakily, staring up at Elias and then at the hall behind him.
No police officers were coming toward us. Everything he’d just said was clearly a lie to distract the girl so that she wouldn’t find me. Kylie Burns wasn’t really here in the Van der Veer mansion, and Elias couldn’t have taken the girl to her even if he wanted to. All lies to protect me.
“Thank you,” I whispered raggedly.
Elias held the sobbing, thrashing girl in a tight, furious grip and looked down at me with an expression that suggested I belonged right where I was on the floor. “I didn’t do it for you,” he said coolly.
I shook my head with confusion. What the hell was his problem? He’d clearly just saved me, but for some reason he’d gone right back to acting like an arrogant prick who either despised me or didn’t give a shit about me.
Before I could say anything, I heard the thundering of heavy, fast-paced footsteps, and I looked back to the hall to see three bloated security guards racing toward us with guns drawn. Willa was behind them, looking decidedly unkempt. Her usually-flawless hair had become ruffled and disheveled in all the chaos, and her eyes were wide with fear as she hurried toward us.
“She stole an invitation from someone to get past the guard at the gates. For some reason he didn’t think to wonder why the fuck she wasn’t dressed up like everyone else,” she said shakily, biting back a sob and leaning down to help me up as two of the guards detained the hysterical intruder and hauled her away. The third carefully took the gun from me and followed the others. Elias strode away with him.
The girl screeched back at us as the guards dragged her down the hall. “I know you know what happened to her! You all fucking know!”
“What’s she talking about?” Willa asked, her curious eyes falling on me again as I rubbed my sore ankle and took off my broken shoe. “Do you know why she was here?”
I filled her in on what happened, and her brows shot up. “Wait, she thinks that missing girl is right here in my house?” she said. “God, I think I’d know if someone was being kept here!”
Part of me wondered if she would even know. The sprawling mega-mansion was the size of a shopping mall, so someone in her family could probably keep a secret captive here without anyone else ever realizing. After all, a group of people had been having some sort of wild orgy on the second floor earlier, and Willa didn’t seem to know about that… so what else could be happening right under her nose?
I pushed the thought aside. No, that was silly. The girl with the gun had just been unstable and hysterical, crazed f
rom the unfortunate loss of her sister two years ago. She’d finally snapped and come here tonight in a cry for help, seeing as one of the last things her sister had ever done was attend a party at this mansion.
“I’m so sorry,” Willa continued miserably, staring down at the remnants of the vase on the polished floor. Her hands were shaking like mad, mirroring my own. “I can’t believe this happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said softly.
“I’ll never be able to throw a party again. I’ll just be that girl who nearly got two hundred people shot because of shitty security.” She sniffed. “No one will ever want me to host anything again.”
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. As nice as Willa was, she was still prone to the sort of egoistic self-centeredness that often came with the territory of budding socialites.
“Tatum!”
We both turned to see Katie sprinting toward us. She’d obviously heard the guards arriving and knew it was safe to come out now. When she reached us, she wrapped me in a tight bear hug, splashing hot tears on my shoulder as she squeezed me. “I didn’t know where you went! I thought you were...”
She was far too choked up to continue. I patted her back. “We got separated. Not your fault,” I said soothingly. “I hid in a cupboard, so I’m fine.”
She drew back, her eyes shining with relief. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” She looked at Willa. “Are you okay?”
Willa nodded and began to fill Katie in on what I’d just told her about what went down with Elias and the girl. As they spoke, I took a deep, shaky breath and eyed the front door, all the way down the other side of the entry hall. I knew the police would want everyone to stay here for now so they could get witness statements when they arrived, but still, I couldn’t wait to get out of this place.
I was now two for two when it came to crazy, harrowing stuff happening at the parties of America’s elite. Clearly, this gilded world wasn’t for me and never would be. I needed to stay far, far away.
And yet, something in the darkest recesses of my mind told me that soon, I was only going to get sucked in further…
3
Tatum
One week later
Stepping onto the Roden University campus felt like stepping into another world.
Even in the wintertime, the place had an exquisite, almost-celestial sense to it that created an atmosphere of rich antiquity. The Gothic-style buildings were tall and grand, sweeping upwards with awe-inspiring grace. They were made from patterned gray and brown brick and stone with carvings of leaves and birds, and deep green ivy wound its way up the walls. The arches were pointed, the ceilings were vaulted, and the windows were made from decorated leaded glass. Stone statues and fountains were plentiful throughout the grounds.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this place was constructed over a thousand years ago in the heart of Europe. I could only imagine how much more beautiful it would look in warmer seasons without the thick snow coating the ground, because Roden was famed for its gardens as well as its Gothic architecture.
My parents and I had already had a brief look around the beautiful campus ourselves when we arrived a couple of hours ago, but now we were standing outside the lavish building which housed the Dean’s office, waiting for someone to give us an official tour. I’d spoken with the Dean earlier during a meet-and-greet for students who’d been granted early acceptance, and I couldn’t wait to get a proper look around the grounds and find out where I’d be living when I finally arrived here for college next year.
Over the last week, I’d been vaguely hesitating about my place at Roden—even though it was an amazing opportunity—because of the drama it could bring into my life, given that it was the most favored college for the kids of the uber-rich. Something like forty percent of enrolments were legacies, and I knew a lot of them ran in the same social circles I was now actively trying to avoid after last week’s incident at the Van der Veer mansion.
In the end, though, I always knew I’d wind up accepting the scholarship offer. I’d be absolutely crazy not to.
Besides, it wasn’t like I had to get sucked into any weird, dramatic stuff just because I’d be around all these privileged people. Roden might have a lot of super-rich students, but it also handed out a lot of scholarships, so of the sixty percent of students who weren’t legacies, at least a third of them were from lower-income brackets like me, lucky enough to obtain a full ride through college without having to take out enormous loans. That meant there’d be plenty of people in the same boat as me. People who truly understood what it was like to try and fit in amongst the most exclusive members of America’s elite despite coming from nothing.
My mom turned to look at me, her brows puckered. “God, I still can’t believe you got the scholarship, honey. This campus is incredible.”
“What are you saying, Rachel?” Dad interjected before I could reply. “You don’t think she’s smart enough?”
He winked at me, and Mom rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up, Bruce. You know I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that it’s so competitive, and with the awful year Tatum’s had, it’s quite surreal that she got in for free.”
“Don’t worry, I knew what you meant,” I said, wrapping my scarf tighter around my neck. Outside, the sky was patchy with just enough sunshine to fool you into thinking it might actually be warm despite all the snow, but it was freezing all the same. The wind had just kicked up too, sending fallen dead leaves twirling in dizzy circles before slapping them back to the icy ground. It looked like whirlwinds of red and yellow confetti.
“It won’t be easy to let you go,” my mother went on, her brows knitting gloomily as she cast her eyes around the campus.
I grinned. “Mom, our house is only a half hour drive from here. I’ll see you all the time.”
A lot of people I’d met online over the years on games or forums tended to assume that every part of Connecticut was wealthy and WASP-y, especially along the Gold Coast. Many of them even took to nicknaming me ‘Rich Girl’ whenever I mentioned where I was born and raised. They didn’t realize that even in the richest parts of the state, there were still many boroughs where people struggled to pay their bills and relied on thick clothing to get through the winter because heating cost too much.
I came from one of those places—an enclave of small, dilapidated houses and shops just around the corner from obscene wealth and houses the size of malls— and it was practically down the road from New Marwick.
Mom had lost her job as a teacher years ago and been unable to find employment since, and Dad’s surveying company hadn’t performed well in what felt like forever. Too much competition. They’d considered moving to another state a few times, but it hadn’t worked out, and we’d continued struggling our way through life, scrimping and saving to make ends meet.
As a child, I frequently overheard my parents speaking in hushed, worried tones in their bedroom about how they could barely afford to feed me, and a few times I even heard my mother frantically say they should’ve never had me. It stung, but I knew she was just in a dark place at the time. Lack of money could do that to people, so I tried to help out where I could, picking up babysitting gigs around the neighborhood when I was in junior high so that my parents could have a few extra dollars for bills and groceries.
For the last few years, I’d also spent my summers working ten hour days at a beach kiosk while teens who lived less than an hour away summered in Switzerland or St Bart’s with limitless credit cards and private jets. Yes, it made me insecure and envious as hell at the time—not gonna lie—but it also gave me the drive to work hard in school so that I’d have the chance to score myself a world-class education, get a good job and pay for my family to take a few nice summers off ourselves in the future.
My work had paid off, because a degree from Roden was like having a key to the city in many places, and I would get it all free of charge.
“Hi! Are you Tatum Marris?”
A bubb
ly voice came from somewhere on our left. We turned to see a young woman smiling at us. She was about the same height as me, and she shared my chestnut brown hair and blue eyes. That was where the similarities ended.
Her pretty, foxlike face was made up so perfectly that it wouldn’t surprise me to learn she had her own private makeup artist, and her locks were glossy and styled perfectly. Her outfit looked like it cost more than our monthly rent, too, even though it was fairly understated and minimalist. When you lived in a place like this, you tended to get an eye for that sort of stuff.
I nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”
She beamed and stuck a hand out. “I’m Mellie. I’ve been asked to give you a tour today. Ready to go?”
“Sure. It’s nice to meet you.”
Mom and Dad gave us both tight smiles. “Why don’t you go on ahead without us, Tatum?” Dad said. “We’ve got a few things to do ourselves, and a potential client is in the area and wants to speak to me. It was lovely to meet you, though, Mellie.”
I frowned. I didn’t realize my parents had other plans today, but I couldn’t complain. Work was work. “Oh, okay. I’ll call you when we’re done.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Mellie offered with another dazzling white smile. I still hadn’t figured out if the niceties were all for show or if she was actually a sweet girl. “I’ll take care of your daughter!”
She gestured to the right, and I fell into step beside her. “So, have you decided on your major yet?” she asked, slipping her gloved hands into her cream coat pockets.
“Journalism,” I said. “And you? What year are you in?”
“I’m in the same boat as you. I’ll be a freshman next year. Finance major.”
My brows shot up. “Wait, what? If you haven’t even started, then how are you giving me a tour?”
