My father laughs cruelly. “She’ll not be leaving with you now, Violet.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” my mother says, the first sign of fear in her tone. She looks from me to my father and I can see it—the impending doom.
I’m not sure my father should be smiling as he says his next words to me. He shouldn’t take delight in informing his daughter her mother has been having an affair with her boyfriend’s father, but he does, and in that moment, I see a whole new side of the man I’ve spent my entire life idolizing. I see cruelty and vindictiveness. I see underneath the mask.
“How could you?” I whisper, horrified. It’s bad enough she is cheating but doing it with Luke’s father is unforgivable. “You told me I should marry Luke. You told me I’d be set for life if I did. How was that going to work out? Did you envision us being a big happy, fucked-up family?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, darling. It was just a little fun.”
“Fun? You’re married,” I snap.
She waves her hand at me like I’m foolish. “You’ll understand one day, Rose. Marriage isn’t all white knights and happily ever afters.”
“Don’t turn our daughter into a morally corrupt slut like yourself,” my father hisses.
My mouth drops open. Never has my father spoke like this.
“You’re one to talk of morals, Richard. I’m pretty certain the number one quality in a con man is low morals.”
“Con man?” I whisper.
“Ignore your mother, Rose. She’s just bitter her fun is over.”
“No, Rose, you should listen.” My mother takes a step toward me, her gaze slightly unhinged; it frightens me. “We’re leaving, and we are leaving today before word gets out that your father is a thieving scumbag.”
“What?” I gasp, gaze flicking between my parents.
“All of this,” she says, gesturing to the expensive things displayed in our even more expensive house. “It’s all stolen off the backs of others. He’s not in finance, Rose. Well, not the kind the police and taxman like anyway.”
“Lies, Rose.”
But even to my ears that so desperately want to believe him, my father’s words seem empty. A tear rolls down my cheek as my heart begins to break.
“Save your tears for later, Rose. We must leave now,” she warns.
“B-But where are we going?” I stammer.
“To my parents. They sent a car for us.” She waves toward the window and the sedan’s still waiting outside.
So that’s why it wasn’t George who collected me.
“You’re not leaving,” my father argues.
“Just watch me,” my mother spits. “The only reason you aren’t in police custody already is because I was sleeping with the man you made the mistake of conning. He’s giving Rose and me enough time to get out before it all comes crashing down around your feet.”
Fear clouds my father’s expression. “I covered my tracks.”
I race for the stairs to pack my things. My father might sound sure, but his mask has slipped; his expression tells a whole other story. His end is here, and as much as I hate my mother for what she’s done, I’m not waiting around to see the destruction of everything I hold dear. I’m getting out. I’m following my instincts.
His downfall is coming, and when it does, I don’t want to be anywhere near it.
Chapter 2
I never realized how much stuff I actually own until I attempted to put it all into two Louis Vuitton suitcases. I have an entire wardrobe just for shoes for Christ’s sake. How am I going to decide which to bring? Trailing my hand over my collection, I do one lap before picking up a pair of Jimmy Choo boots and Gucci sandals. Then I remember my Gucci ankle boots, which are both practical and stylish and decide I must bring them too. Before I’ve finished, I have nearly one suitcase of shoes, and I’m currently trying to squish underwear and light pieces of clothing in between the cracks.
“Aren’t you finished yet?” my mother screeches as she enters my room. “Rose, we need to leave.”
I give up trying to stuff my Stella McCartney dress into a boot and lay it on top. Closing the suitcase, I sit on it for good measure as I attempt to close it. “I have so much stuff, Mum,” I whine, huffing as the zip finally moves. “Do you have room in your luggage?”
It’s a stupid question since my mother has more clothes than me.
“Rose, forget the clothes. Grandpa will buy you more.”
“But, but—” My clothes!
“Darling, you’ll need to look like a New Yorker if you’re going to fit in anyway. Take things of sentiment and be downstairs in five.”
Things of sentiment. I pull down a few photo frames and take the pictures out, then grab my box of keepsakes from underneath my bed. Next goes in the bear my father bought me when I was a child and signed copies of my favorite books. Turning in a circle, my chest tightens; there’s so much stuff left and I’m almost out of room. This is my home, my life. How can I fit it into two bags? And what about my friends and Luke?
“I can’t just leave,” I whisper. Escape for survival is one thing, but when everything is said and done, London is my home. It’s all I’ve ever known. I have a life here and I’m not sure I can pack two bags and walk away without looking back.
“Rose!” my mother calls, her voice vibrating up the stairs.
The driver who brought me from school appears at my door. “Miss Keeley, I’m here for your bags.”
“Oh, erm… I….” I don’t have any other choice. My mother’s leaving, and I’m not naïve enough to think she’d stay if I refused to leave. “On my bed. I just have too—” Running into my closet, I pull out an armful of clothes, hangers attached, and run back to my bed. Stuffing it all in the second case, I sit on it again, but it won’t close. “A little help?” I snap, looking at the man hovering in my doorway.
With his help, it closes, and he takes them away, huffing at the weight as he picks them up. Hope you’ve booked extra luggage, Mother. I smile.
My parents’ arguing filters up the stairs, and with one last glance of my room, I grab my laptop and iPod, a book for the plane, and then stuff all the makeup and cosmetics I own into a carry-on bag before dashing for my door. On my way, something catches my eye. A camera that I bought before I’d started high school. It’s something I haven’t used in a long time. Dust has settled on its surface, but the thought of leaving it makes me want to cry. Picking it up, I cram it into my already overfull carry-on case and head for the stairs. I’m still wearing my school uniform and Burberry coat from when I came in, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.
“Rose, please. This is silly. There’s no need to leave. Everything will be fine,” my father pleads as I head for the door.
Pausing on the threshold, I look between my parents—one in my childhood home, the other inside a waiting car. I love them both. They’re my parents, and no matter their faults, they love me. Tears spring in my eyes, running down my face. I don’t know how to do this—how to pick a side without tearing my heart in two.
“Dad,” I whisper through my tears. “Dad, I don’t know what to do.” But before he can answer, the distant sirens of the police send everything into fast forward.
My father rushes forward and hugs me, repeating the same words he murmured to me only a few hours ago. “Remember I love you.” Releasing me, he pushes me toward the car, calling after me, “Whatever you hear, Rose, it’s not true. You know me. It’s all lies.”
The door to the car opens as police cars appear on our street. My mother screams from inside, “Get in this car now!”
It’s moving before I’m fully inside, the tires screeching as it speeds away, and as I tumble in, gripping the back of the seat to keep myself from falling, I see an image, which will forever be burned into the back of my mind.
My father on his knees as three policemen take him to the ground, snapping cuffs onto his wrists.
It’s all lies. His voice echoes in my head, but why did he tell me this mo
rning, before all this mess began, to remember he loved me? As if he knew all along the police were coming for him. As if he knew the end was here and it was too late to get out.
***
My mother’s arguing on the phone, but I’ve tuned out her words. All I process is the general pissed off tone she’s yelling down the phone.
We’re in a hotel room just outside of the airport. I’ve been texting Clare and Luke for the last thirty minutes, but neither of them is answering, and I have this awful feeling they already know everything that’s happened. Clare’s parents are very good friends with Luke’s—her father works for the same law firm—and I think everyone, including myself, to be honest, was shocked when Luke picked me instead of Clare as his girlfriend. Not that I didn’t work hard to be the “chosen one” and, without sounding like a complete bitch, I am hotter than Clare. She’s from wealthy, noble blood, and I’m… well I’m obviously from criminal blood, but my point is Clare’s plain compared to me. I won, and somehow the two of us ended up staying friends despite that.
Yet no matter how many times I text or call, my best friend and boyfriend do not answer. My mind spins. Maybe Clare wasn’t ill at all and somehow knew what was going to happen today and called in sick to avoid me. But then why was Luke at school? Because if Clare knew, Luke surely would… unless Luke didn’t care and thought he’d have one last laugh with me. Stick his fingers under my skirt in class and get one last slutty story to tell his mates. Yet he squeezed my hand before I left class. He didn’t act at all weird, so he couldn’t have known.
“They don’t know,” I tell myself aloud.
“Don’t know what?” my mother snaps, and I realize her angry voice stopped a few minutes ago.
“Nothing, Mother.” I sigh.
“Have you heard anything I have just been saying?” She taps her foot and huffs at me like I’m a naughty four-year-old again.
“No, sorry,” I mumble.
“We can’t get a flight until morning,” she says. “I have to nip out and take care of a few things, but you are to stay here and not leave this room. Understand?”
“But—”
“I mean it, Rose. You stay in this room.”
“Clare and Luke aren’t answering. I need to say goodbye. They’re my friends.”
Her arms cross as sadness and pity fill her gaze, and it’s such an unusual look, I almost begin crying. “Rose, listen to me,” she starts softly, sitting on the bed beside me and taking my hands. “I know this is hard to hear, but those people aren’t your friends anymore. Your father’s pissed off a lot of important men, including Luke’s father. He’s stolen from them, Rose, and I know it’s hard to hear and understand. I’m still processing it all myself, but Luke and Clare won’t answer. Our life here is over.”
“It’s not my fault, though. Why would they care? They’re my friends.” I wouldn’t care if it was me. Yes, we’re petty and selfish, but when it comes down it, we all have each other’s back. We have to; being at the top requires it. There is always someone willing to stick a knife into our backs.
You’re not at the top anymore, Rose, a cruel voice whispers in my head, and I start to cry, angering my mother.
“Enough of this, Rose. You’ll make new friends in New York. I loved growing up there. It’s about time I went back, and you’ll soon see it’s what’s best. I won’t be long.” Releasing my hands, all softness is gone as she gets up and grabs her coat. “Don’t leave the room.”
She’s gone ten minutes when I decide to fuck her and her orders. Collecting my things, I slip my arms into my coat and leave the room. If Luke and Clare aren’t going to answer their phones, I’m going to go to them. If my mother is right, then I need to hear it from their mouths.
I call a taxi and head to Luke’s first. I can’t knock on the door, so I try his phone again, but he doesn’t answer, so I send a text.
Me - I’m outside your house. Answer the phone, please, Luke, otherwise I’ll have no choice but to knock.
The front door opens a minute later, and Luke and Clare slip out, surprising me. I glance between them both.
“I thought you were sick,” I say stupidly.
Clare rolls her eyes as Luke roughly takes my arm and drags me around the side of the house.
“What are you doing here, Rose?” Luke growls.
“Well, I’ve had a really shit day and thought you’d maybe want to know why I was dragged out of school this morning?”
“We know,” Clare answers for him. “Of course, we know.”
I look between them, hurt building inside my chest.
“Did you know in class?” I murmur to Luke. It feels like a knife is gorging out my heart.
“No. Jesus, Rose, what do you take me for?”
“Then why aren’t you answering my calls?” I ask weakly. I hate myself for sounding so feeble and needy. This isn’t me; I wear the crown. I rule St. Paul’s Grammar. I do not beg for attention.
“My father invested a lot of money, which your father said would be doubled, not stolen. He’s a con artist, Rose. What do you expect me to do?”
“I’m not my father,” I plead, sounding pathetic. Mentally I’m screaming at myself to walk away, to save the last shred of dignity I have left, but I don’t listen. I carry on, heading right for the crash that will finish me off.
“That’s bullshit, Rose, and you know it,” Clare snaps. “Your reign’s over. Your family’s name’s mud. If I were you, I’d never want to show my face around here again.”
“Sorry, babe,” Luke adds, and he does look sorry, but Clare, she looks almost giddy. As if she’s been waiting for a moment just like this to kick me while I’m down.
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” she’d often whisper, but I never imagined the statement applied to me.
Tears are forming again, and I feel sick. My mother was right; I should have listened to her. I could have saved myself this pain. This humiliation.
“But you love me,” I choke, embarrassing myself further. I’m heading down a path I can’t seem to get off. It’s like my heart wants to be crushed.
Luke laughs as Clare looks away with pity. It’s cruel and wicked, and it cuts deeper than I ever expected.
“Look, Rose, you were fun and all, but we both know it was all a game. You were on top, and now you’re not. If I were you, I’d get on the plane with your mother. It’ll be easier that way.”
I swipe at the tear trailing down my cheek. “How do you know—” Mother, he knows she’s been sleeping with his father. “You know about my mum?”
Clare laughs wickedly, and I’m left feeling like I never really had the crown at all. It was an illusion, a gift the real elite let me carry so they’d have more entertainment when I inevitably fell.
“Looks like your mum’s a slut too,” Clare answers, ever so politely. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a kingdom to rule, and you are not a part of it.”
My blurry gaze flickers between them as my dazed brain tries to catch up. My heart pounds painfully through my skull as my lungs search desperately for air. I want to wake from this nightmare. For this pain to stop. But it doesn’t. This is reality. This is my life.
Turning, I stumble, their laughter chasing me down the street. I run with no real direction, and at some point, the rain, which has hung heavy and threatening in the sky all day, begins to fall. It mixes with my tears, clinging to my skin, and soaking through my hair and clothes.
It’s fallen dark when I stop, my legs unable to take another step. My lungs burn with each shaky breath, and numbness has taken over my body and mind.
In a way, I knew what was coming. My mother warned me, and as callus as she can be sometimes, she doesn’t lie to me. Her warning had been for a good reason, yet I’d gone despite it. I’d gone because I needed to see for myself. It didn’t feel right walking away without a backward glance. In my own selfish way, I cared for these people. But it had never been real, and I think deep down I knew that.
The top is hard to stay at for a reason. There’s always someone waiting to kick you while you’re down. It’s a lonely place, but I’d thought that sacrifice was worth it. I thought being admired and envied was enough, but what was the point if when I really needed someone, all backs were turned?
Luke and Clare helped me keep the crown, but when it started to slip, instead of steadying my hold, they ripped it from my head, leaving carnage in their wake.
I’m a broken queen, thrown out by her court, and like my mother, I have no option but to flee.
Chapter 3
“I warned you,” my mother says as I enter the hotel room. “Didn’t I warn you?”
I ignore her and walk straight for the bathroom to fill the tub with scalding water. Maybe I’ll be able to burn the last few hours away.
“I hope his parents didn’t see you,” she says, following me into the bathroom.
I turn and glare, all my anger and sadness boiling together. “Get out!” I scream. “Get out, get out, get out!!”
She tuts at me like I am being childish but backs out and slams the door behind her. I watch numbly as the water fills the tub, bubbles frothing up. Steam fills the room, and when it’s inches from the top, I switch off the faucet and go back out into the main room to retrieve some clothes and music.
I don’t have pajamas, because evidently, I didn’t think they were important, and instead end up selecting a silk dress, which could be a slip but actually isn’t. Though I do remember my mother muttering I shouldn’t wear lingerie in public the one and only time I wore it.
My mother says nothing as she watches me collect my things, but she doesn’t have to. Her eyes say all she needs too. I’m a disappointment…. Well, guess what, Mother? So are you.
Returning to the bathroom, I strip out my clothes and step into the boiling water. Hissing out a breath, I grit my teeth as the water burns, but it’s a good burn. It encases my body as I sink in fully, destroying all my remaining feelings to ash. The heat consumes me, rising and clouding my brain, and as I turn my iPod up and put my earbuds in, it’s like the entire world doesn’t exist.
The Destruction of Rose: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 1) Page 2