Prologue
I watch as his car flies past me. The jealousy rages in the pit of my stomach. He has it all, everything he ever wanted and more, and he doesn’t even know how fucking lucky he is.
Last week, I watched him play guitar with his friends at some local coffee shop. He’s just as good at music as he is at racing. It’s as though the universe gifted him with everything, the looks, the talent, the intelligence, while it stole everything from me. But then, it gave me this one little gift, this one little nugget of information. And now, he’s all I can think about, day and night. Some might call it a sick fixation, but I call it a rational end to an irrational story. I’m meant to change the future, that has to be why I’m here. I don’t know how long it will take me, but I will finish this, whether it takes a year or ten years or even my whole life.
As the car crosses the finish line, the crowd roars with enthusiasm. Between the noise of the other cars finishing their laps, the cheers of the fans, and clicks of the cameras, I can’t hear anything. But all of that sound vanishes as my eyes lock on his face, his happy, fucking face.
His dad greets him with a giant bear hug, and it takes all of my self-control to stay put and not jump the fence and end it all right now.
He doesn’t know me from Adam, but he will. When the time is right, he will know who ruined his life, right before I take it.
Chapter One
Eight years later…
Emma
Fuck my life. I groan as I read the text again. It’s from my advisor, Dr. Carla Stevens. Apparently, I’m needed to TA a seminar for Dr. Elliott. I’m already a TA for one of Dr. Stevens’s courses this semester, plus I was hoping to spend more time working on my thesis project. So much for a great start to my second semester of grad school at USC.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my studies here. I love this university! I just really want to have time to work on my documentary.
My phone pings with another text.
Kate: How’s school? Any hot prospects this semester?
Kate’s text brings a smile to my face. Kate has been my bestie since we met in college when I sat next to her in a class. And that’s how I became best friends with the first daughter. Did I mention she just married a prince? Yeah, a real fucking political fairy tale.
Me: FML! They want me to TA a second course.
Kate: But is the professor hot?
Me: Fuck you! I’m not sleeping with a professor.
Kate: I mean…
Me: (middle-finger emoji)
Kate: Le sigh. Don’t lose your sense of humor on the first day of the semester!
Me: I gotta go. Duty calls.
Kate: Duty before self.
Me: Yeah, yeah. Go do something royal.
Kate: (princess emoji)
I put my phone back in my pocket and head to the TA office. It’s literally a cubby hole in the department’s offices where the grad students who work as TAs can hang out in between classes.
I didn’t TA my first semester, so Dr. Stevens asked a former student, Quinlan Westin, to mentor me. I haven’t met her before, but I already know who she is. Besides knowing her for her own burgeoning film career, I know her dad is a famous director and her brother is a famous former race car driver.
Quinlan is already sitting at a cubicle typing away at her laptop.
“Hey,” I say as I drop my bag on the cubicle table next to hers.
She glances up and gives me a warm smile. “Hey there. How’s your first day back going? It’s your second semester, right?” Fourteen more weeks and I’ll be halfway through my two-year grad program.
“Yep.”
“Well, Dr. Stevens said to show you the ropes. It’s all pretty easy. I can show you how everything works. And I’m happy to offer my advice on any classes you’re taking.”
“That’d be great,” I reply. I admit I haven’t made a ton of friends yet. There are a few classmates that I know from first semester. And Will Peterson, who was my TA for my Introduction to Cinematography. I suppose I’ve been sort of a recluse since moving here from Berkley, but I’ve been preoccupied.
“Cool. When’s your next class?” she asks.
I whip my phone out to check my schedule. “I have almost three hours before my next class.”
“Great. I’ll have time to walk you through a few things afterward.”
She picks up her bag, and I follow her through the building. “So, what do you think of the program after completing your first semester?”
I shrug. “I’d love more time to start working on my thesis project,” I admit.
She grins. “You’ll get it. Trust me, the second year of the program gives you more time to work on your project.”
“I hope so,” I mutter.
“You probably can figure this all out on your own, but I’ll go over how to work all the electronics real quick and then I can show you some other stuff you might not know,” she says as she opens the classroom door and shows me to a closet with all kinds of audiovisual equipment. I feel a little guilty because Quinlan surely has better things to do than show a grad student this stuff. I’m hoping I can pick her brain later on some class selections I need to make for next semester. She explains everything I need to know and patiently answers my questions. After she finishes, she turns to me and smiles.
“You got this. Both professors are great, as you already know, so it shouldn’t be too hard, and feel free to ask me or the other TAs if you have any questions. We should make a time to sit down and talk more about your project and your classes.”
I nod. “That’d be great!” I suddenly feel silly because that came out way too enthusiastically.
“Great. I’ll text you.”
“Cool. I should probably go and get ready for class. I really appreciate you taking the time to show me the ropes. That’s above and beyond what a mentor should need to do,” I say as I readjust my bag over my shoulder.
“It’s not a problem. I was actually here talking with an old professor and Dr. Stevens asked if I could help you today. She thought it would be a good introduction for us. And honestly, it’s sort of fun to be back here. I’m excited to be your mentor, Emma. I look forward to seeing you again soon.” I nod and she waves at me as I walk out of the classroom.
I head over to Dr. Elliott’s classroom and get it set up for him per Quinlan’s directions.
Students slowly trickle in, and at three minutes before the hour, Dr. Elliott strolls into the classroom. He’s a little older than my parents. He’s a handsome and somewhat imposing figure.
“Miss Baldwin, is everything ready?” he asks me.
“Yes, Professor.”
“Good, we have a guest speaker on Thursday, so I’ll need you to meet her and show her to the classroom. I’ll email you the information,” he states as he sets his briefcase down on a long table to the right of the podium.
I nod and take a seat as he begins the lecture. My mind wanders to the million other things I have to do. I make little side notes in my notebook as they pop into my head.
A few times I must not be paying enough attention because the professor gives me a pointed look after clearing his throat. I want to say something snarky like, “you’re lucky you have a TA at all,” but I refrain.