Chapter 1
Selene
I’ve always loved reading—getting lost in someone else’s words, escaping my own life, if only for a little while. Living through the eyes of a heroine who gets to experience love, adventure, and the kind of passion that makes your pulse race. It’s like dreaming, only better. To see the world as they do—to feel wanted the way they are.
I trail my fingers over the pages of my book, savoring the words like a fine wine. Here, in this world, there is no death, nor blood on my hands. It’s reading about their battles and strength that let’s my mind rest for awhile.
The illusion shatters.
“SELENE!”
The screech of my name rips through the quiet sanctuary of my room, slamming me back into reality.
I exhale sharply, rolling my eyes before setting my book down.
My muscles are already tightening in irritation as I drag myself toward the source of my headache—the shrill, pathetic excuse of a woman my father had the misfortune of calling his wife.
Barbra stands in the foyer, arms crossed, foot tapping aggressively against the marble floor like some kind of deranged wind-up doll.
She’s wearing some designer dress that’s trying too hard to make her look youthful. Her fried platinum-blonde hair is over-styled, her dull blue eyes outlined with heavy black liner that does nothing to conceal the lack of brightness in them. I can see the stress is eating at her.
Good.
“HOW DARE YOU!” she screeches.
I tilt my head, feigning curiosity. “You’ll have to be a little more specific, Barbra. I do a lot of things that make you squeal like a pig.”
“You walk around here like you’re better than me! Spreading lies! Telling people, I had something to do with your father’s passing!”
I blink at her. She really is stupid, isn’t she?
Oh, yes. I forget to mention, my father is dead.
Six months ago. Just three months after he made the brilliant decision to marry this leech. Coincidence? I think not.
My father was a healthy man. He worked out daily, barely drank, and at forty-five, he was in better shape than men half his age. And yet, out of nowhere, he was gone. Conveniently leaving behind a massive estate and a multimillion-dollar company—both of which he left to me.
So, the fact that Barbra is still here, making demands, is almost laughable.
“Barbra, why are you even here?” I sigh, crossing my arms. “You no longer have a right to be.”
Her scowl deepens. “You little bitch! This house should have been mine!”
“And yet, you wonder why I had trouble believing my father’s mysterious passing wasn’t your fault.”
Her expression twists, and within seconds, her crocodile tears appear—rolling down her perfectly contoured cheeks like she is auditioning for a soap opera.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she sniffles. “I loved your father.”
I scoff. “Right. I’m sure you loved him just as much as you loved his bank account.”
She snarls, stepping closer. “You will regret this, Selene.”
“Oh, Barbs—” I take a slow step forward, lowering my voice to something silky, something dangerous. “Are you threatening me?”
She doesn’t get the chance to answer.
“Ma’am, is everything all right?”
