“I have a picture,” I said.
I pulled out my phone, opened Instagram, and searched for it on my profile. As I scrolled, it was sickening how long it took to get through all the fake posts I’d made before finally getting to the real me. I’d buried myself under an avalanche of selfies with my daily outfits, curated office shots, and vapid party pictures. I’d posed with people who didn’t care about me, only what I could do for them.
When the consultation was over, I drove to my parents’ house.
It was the first time I’d been there since I moved in with the Hales, and it was beyond strange. Everything felt . . . smaller. The lights didn’t shine as brightly, and the rooms seemed overwrought with items my parents didn’t need. It had a claustrophobic effect I’d never noticed before.
Emily was in her pajamas and in bed when I arrived, her back propped up by pillows. It didn’t look like she’d showered today, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Concern made me collapse beside her.
“I’m tired all the time,” she said. “This baby is sucking the life out of me.”
I didn’t miss the way her gaze slid over me, taking in my designer clothes, my rich brown hair, and perfectly manicured nails. Envy wasn’t something I’d ever seen in my sister’s eyes before. Was she wondering if this was what her life would have been if she hadn’t gotten pregnant?
I wanted to tell her it was like my Instagram feed—nothing was as glamorous and perfect as what I projected. She didn’t know Royce had sold me out, or who he’d handed me over to. I wanted to confide in my sister and best friend what I’d had to do to earn the right to drive myself here today.
But I couldn’t, because that meant I’d have to admit it out loud, and I couldn’t stand to see the judgment twist on her face. Not to mention, she was on bed rest, and I shouldn’t cause any additional stress.
There was a third, shameful reason I didn’t say anything. I still wasn’t over what she’d kept from me. Her affair with her professor, her pregnancy, and the rumor she’d heard about the initiation. I wanted to move past it, but I struggled.
No one was who I thought they were, and it felt like my whole family was slipping away.
“It’s going to be all right.” I tried to make it sound convincing but faltered. So, I curled up in bed beside her and watched Netflix while we talked about things that didn’t matter. She probably wanted to escape as much as I did.
“Marist,” our mother said when she came in and discovered me in bed beside Emily. “Were you even going to come say hello?”
“Of course,” I said. “I thought you were going to join us.”
She scowled. “No. I wish I had time to sit around and watch TV, but I’m too busy.”
Her passive-aggressive statement sliced through my mood and turned my tone sarcastic. “I’m sure.”
She ignored my attitude. “I need to leave soon. I have an appointment at Barney’s.”
Tension tightened the muscles in my back. “You’re going shopping?”
“I need a dress for the anniversary gala.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t worry, I have a budget.” An idea must have taken hold in her mind because she abruptly straightened and brightened. “Do you want to come with me?”
A hundred thoughts hit me at once, but the cynical one was the loudest. What was her motive for asking me to join her? Did she genuinely want to spend time with her daughter . . . or was she hoping I would be able to pay for her dress?
I’d go with her, if for no other reason than to make sure she stuck to her budget. I’d have to save her from herself.
It was like I’d just swallowed ice and it sat as a frozen lump in my stomach.
I sounded like Macalister.
At twenty-three, Jillian Lambert was two years older than I was. When her hair was down, it was long and wavy, but tonight her honey brown tresses were pulled back into a high, sleek ponytail. Her black dress had fluttering shoulders, and it walked a perfect line between casual and dressed up.
She’d chosen wisely. I still hadn’t figured out exactly how to dress for the Hale family dinners either. I took my seat beside Royce and flashed a sympathetic smile to her across the table. She looked nervous as hell and like she’d rather be anywhere else than seated beside Vance.
Sophia had told me Jillian had a nasty, very public breakup with her boyfriend at the marina fundraising event Royce and I had missed. I had the sneaking suspicion Vance had played a part in it. His guiding hand had orchestrated the thing somehow to make sure she would be single.
Because his father wanted Jillian with Vance, and the Hales always got what they wanted.
“Thank you for joining us this evening,” Macalister said to her.
Her voice quavered. “Thanks for having me.”
“How is the training going? Are you prepared for the race?”
She glanced at the man seated next to her like she needed his approval.
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Vance said.
Macalister was irritated his son had spoken in her place. He refocused on Jillian. “Does your father think you have a good chance at winning?”
She nodded. “We’re all hopeful.”
Macalister eked out half of a pained smile. Her answer lacked the kind of confidence he demanded from both his family and his employees. He couldn’t say anything, though. She was his link to her father, who was Macalister’s link to the president, and he wasn’t going to risk falling out of Wayne Lambert’s good graces.
“Vance has been so helpful,” she added. Her amused gaze darted to him. “Always telling us what to do and stuff.”
I snorted. “What did you expect? He’s a Hale.”
Oh, my God. What the fuck did I just say?
Every pair of eyes at the table turned to me, and the room went so quiet no one was breathing. I was Medusa again. Everyone had turned to stone.
“Yeah,” Royce said finally. “You’d better watch out or he’ll make himself captain.” His teasing tone released the tension and let the air back into the room, and I was so grateful. I flashed him an appreciative look.
“Vance doesn’t want that,” Macalister said. “I’m sure your father is an excellent captain.” His voice was cool and pointed. A warning to Vance to stay in line.
A tight smile pressed on Alice’s lips. “May I shift topics for a moment?”
Her husband nodded. “Yes.”
“The masquerade masks for the gala,” she said. “I keep thinking it would be better if we had a consistent look for the family. It’s the Hale Banking and Holding Company, and we’ll want a picture of all the Hales represented.”
Disinterest colored his expression. “What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking black and white? Or everyone in gold?” She pursed her lips, unhappy with the answers she was giving. “I’m still working up ideas.”
“How about the Greek myths?” Royce said.
“What?” Alice and I asked at the same time.
He tossed up a hand like he was literally throwing the idea out onto the table. “Marist has all these books about the myths, and some of them are—”