Page 21 of When Hearts Collide
That girl is still inside me. Still faking it to the world to the best of her abilities. Still trying to be the happy daughter her dad won’t have to worry about, still trying to be the positive sister for her older brother, who is still burning hot with rage.
But I’m stronger now. I’m brave.
I’m a fighter.
Chapter 9
“Fleur Twilight Upcoming IPO Indicative of Problems with Industry Titan’s Cash Flows?” The name of the article hits too close to home.
An anvil sits on top of my chest and my stomach roils as I scroll through the news articles on my phone while waiting for my driver to pick me up and take me to the airport for my trip back home to New York City.
They’re not wrong. This IPO means life or death for Fleur Twilight. The economy is in the pits and people are more careful with how they’re spending their hard-earned money. Nightclubs tend to be one of the first items they cut from their budget. Fleur Twilight is still profitable, but with the way it’s burning through cash to maintain our signature bespoke, luxurious experience, it won’t be for long.
“Prince of USA’s Impeccable Reputation Carrying Upcoming IPO Plans.”
My tie feels like a noose around my neck as a sticky heat crawls up my face and muscles bunch in my shoulders.
Unimpeachable reputation. Unblemished. Face of the family. Hundreds of years of history.
It all falls on me, the reluctant pawn in the game of chess I’m playing.
I can’t escape.
The silence in my condo is deafening. Letting out a deep sigh, I stride toward the full-length mirror by the door and take in my appearance.
Carefully arranged hair, the brown so dark, it’s almost black, and steely-gray eyes. Classic Anderson traits. Slight under eye shadows that can’t be helped with all the work I have to do remotely for the family business and for the university. Perfectly tailored suit from France, the dark navy offset by thin black pinstripes. An expertly knotted tie.
Perfection. Faultless.
All lies.
The flush from minutes ago darkens and I resist the urge to tear off my tie, throw something at the walls, and let the scream bottling up inside me finally rip out of my lungs.
Family first. Everything else second. You can’t be so selfish.
The thin, jagged scar on my right eyebrow flashes in pain and I wince. My fingers tremble as I lightly touch the evidence of the carelessness of my youth.
The price of freedom.
The sun was bright that day, its golden rays highlighting the lush green trees on the Adirondack Mountains. I jumped over a fallen log, a fiery buzz in my veins. I couldn’t have cared less about the beauty of the forest. It could have been barren for all I cared.
Dad chuckled as he walked a hundred feet ahead of us. It was a rare long weekend when he didn’t have to work. He wanted some manly bonding time with his two eldest sons before we headed off to college. Maxwell grumbled behind me, muttering some nonsense about how he preferred to stay home and paint or hang out with his girlfriend, Sydney, instead.
Stay home when you could run free in the woods, taste freedom on your tongue, and feel like you’d conquered the world? What a load of bullshit.
“Stop complaining, bro. I just made my first kill, Maxwell. My first! And what did I tell you? This detour is so much better than the main trail. Aren’t you glad you guys listened to me instead of going on the same boring route again? The game is so much better here.”
“It’s a pigeon. Don’t get your panties in a twist. And trails are there for a reason. They’re boring because they’re safe.”
I rolled my eyes and whirled around to face my twin and best friend, all the while walking backwards without a care in the world. “God, you act like you’re eighty sometimes. At least I hunted something. What did you get, nothing? What’s the gun on your belt for? Decoration?”
“I prefer to capture nature on canvas, not actually kill nature,” he deadpanned.
“God, how did we even share a womb?” I muttered while trudging backwards.
I whistled some song I heard classmates talking about in eleventh grade English. I raked in a deep inhale of the sweet scent of maple and birch trees mixed with the earthiness of the damp soil. This was a high I could get used to.
A noise crinkled behind me but I barely noticed, my mind still reliving the excitement of firing the shot from the rifle and feeling the satisfaction of the bullet hitting the pigeon. It was nothing I had ever experienced before.
