by J. J. McAvoy
Once again, they clapped.
I waited for a moment before speaking again. “And to my mother, Wilhelmina Wyntor-Smith, who is here with us tonight, I want to say thank you for being such an amazing mother. And thank you for starting this. It’s astounding to see how one act of kindness can grow beyond measure. You are truly and always ahead of your time,” I said, applauding her, which caused the rest of them to do the same.
It took a second for the crowd to figure out where she was, but when they did, and she was at the center of the spotlight, she gave them her best pageant wave and smile.
I turned and handed the microphone over, not to the host but Yvonne. I could see the annoyance in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything as she took the microphone from me. I had words for her, but I held myself back. I had said what I wanted to say and tried to leave.
“Yes, it is always good to remember where we came from and how much we should give, which is why Augusta and I, in honor of Marvin and the children, began the donations with a check for five hundred thousand dollars,” Yvonne stated.
Everyone gasped and whispered among themselves before cheering at her big, fat heart.
I thought she’d be satisfied with stealing the attention back, but she apparently swore some blood oath to make my mom miserable. “Wilhelmina, I heard you also wished to donate?”
You evil old— I bit my tongue. We didn’t have the money to donate right now, and she knew that. However, no one else did, so they looked at my mother, who just stood there.
“Of course, she does,” I said quickly, speaking into the microphone. “We planned to match whatever you donated. We are so glad you are so generous.”
“Really? Then, in that case, we will donate one million.” She beamed at me, and my knees almost buckled.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have just started, and we are already at two million dollars. We here at Children’s Hospital of America thank you so much,” the host announced to everyone before I could slow everything down.
Everyone else began their donations, and I hurried away from the stage and Yvonne before I ended up giving away my whole inheritance. Oh, my God, what was I going to do? I didn’t have that much money yet! Arriving at my mom’s table, I downed the water in front of her and threw myself onto the seat beside her.
“You let her bait you,” my mother whispered beside me.
“I know!” I put my hands on my face. “But she was being—ugh. She was attacking you.”
She just snickered and waved it off. “She’s always doing that. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“Who are you? And where is my mother?” Because this couldn’t be her. My mother normally fought back. “Why did you let her stick you back here?”
“I needed to talk to Mr. Greensboro, so it was fine for now,” she whispered to me, and I finally looked over to the man who sat beside her.
“Please tell me you found a loophole,” I asked him.
He frowned, shaking his head. “Sadly, there isn’t one in this.”
I groaned, wanting to hide under the table. “How am I going to make this donation?”
“You should be asking how Augusta and her mother can.”
I paused and looked at her, but she just elegantly looked forward. “What does that mean?”
“Augusta should be in a worse financial state than you, shouldn’t she? Even if her mother works on the board, with how she burns through money and how she doesn’t have a career as you do with music, how can she give away a million dollars?” she asked me.
I just stared at her, not wanting to think. However, she forced me to as she passed me her phone. I looked at the document on her screen in shock.
“Augusta’s married?” This couldn’t be real.
“Going on three months now. She also received the first part of her inheritance this morning,” Mr. Greensboro whispered over to me. “After we confirmed the will, they requested the funds.”
I glanced back down at the screen. I didn’t know the name above the word spouse, but the date of it was clear as day, as was Augusta’s signature.
“We just spoke about this today... She didn’t say anything.” I shook my head. “Maybe she doesn’t know. What if it was her mother who—”
“Faked her signature?” my mother scoffed. “Odette, sweetheart, you need to stop being so naïve. In order to get married, both parties must be present. They got married in California so we wouldn’t notice it in the state records here. They also chose the son of a member of the board, which means between the three, they now have more shares in your father’s company than we do. I’m sure Augusta kept it a secret from you so she could convince you she was in this with you and wasn’t going to get married, either.”
I remembered the phone call I had this evening with Augusta coming to mind. Really? You aren’t going to, are you?
I thought the worry I heard in her voice was for me. Instead, it was for herself. “She called me to find out if I was going to get married.”
My mom scoffed, shaking her head. “Augusta has learned from her mother well.”
“I don’t want to believe she’d be manipulative.”
“What you want to believe is irrelevant,” she told me, glancing up at the banners above us. “Sooner or later, she and her mother are going to do to you what they are trying to do to me...and that is, erase you from the story. Yvonne has an image in her head. The perfect family and that is Augusta, Marvin, and her. We ruin that for her, so she does things like this. Look around at all the people falling over themselves to get beside her.”
I did as she told me to do and watched as Yvonne and Augusta shook hands with different guests, even stopping to take pictures.
“The moment your father divorced me, they all threw me to the side. They don’t care who started this. They care who has more power, fame, and money. Augusta is lucky in that her mother is smart.”
“You are smart, too,” I said quickly.
She gave me a look. “Not in the same way. Sadly, my skill sets are not in corporations and infighting. Yvonne is a major player in the company. I, on the other hand, can’t understand a word they’re saying in those meetings. So even though we also have money—well, in theory—she and Augusta have all three. You, unfortunately, took after me and have no care about the company, either.”
I frowned at that. “I understand some of it. But we don’t technically own all of it anymore, so I don’t need to know that much.”
“Until they kick you out completely.”
My eyes widened. “They wouldn’t. It’s my father—”
“They can kick out the actual creators. Why would they care about the daughters? Bad press only lasts for such a short time. Why do you think she is trying to get so many shareholders on her side?”
I rubbed the side of my head. “I hate all these political and corporate power games.” Each time I saw one coming, I felt a headache rising.
“And now you see why I chose a prince.” She snickered gently. “You and I don’t have the stomach for this fight. So, we need the best defense. If you have money already, how do you get enough power and fame that people always want to be associated with you?”
“Become royalty,” I answered. “And all the attention and respect is given to you. All of them would be falling over themselves to take pictures with you.”
“And I wouldn’t have to sit in the corner.” She frowned.
I shook my head. “You should have been a politician with how calculating you are sometimes.”
She shrugged and waved me off. “This is nothing. You should see what some women will do to win a swimsuit competition.”
I didn’t think that was a good comparison, but I let it go and looked back at my sister. I didn’t want to fight with her, but I also didn’t want to close my eyes and pretend I didn’t see her lying to my face. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered what else she was lying to me about.
I had forgotten that marriage wasn’t about love in our world
anyway. It was about fortune. Keeping it and growing it. People got married and divorced around here like it was a sport. Augusta must have made that choice as well.
I wanted to be better than that.
But I also didn’t want to be poor, either...or in my sister’s shadow.
Does that make me a bad person?
I wasn’t sure.
“I’m leaving,” I stated, standing up and taking one of the wine bottles from the center of the table with me.
“Where are you going?” my mom asked me.
“Home,” I said to her, and I looked her over. “What are you supposed to be, anyway?”
“Your fairy godmother, of course,” she stated, lifting her arms to show me how long her sleeves were.
I had to hand it to her. She really knew how to stick to her narrative.
“Goodnight, Mom.” I bent down and kissed the side of her cheek. “Don’t stay here too long. God knows what Yvonne will do or say next.”
“Who’s the mom here again?”
I smirked but didn’t say anything, taking the bottle with me and moving toward the double door. In the corner of my eye, I saw Augusta trying to get my attention. I kept walking, ignoring her and stepping out to the coat check, waiting for my jacket from the woman behind the corner.
“Odette.” Augusta dashed out of the double doors, holding on to the bottom of her skirt. “Are you leaving? You just got here.”
“I’m no longer in the mood for this. Thank you,” I said to the woman reaching for my jacket.
“If it’s about your mom—”
“She’s fine. Don’t worry,” I replied. “You should get back. I’m sure your mom wants to introduce you to more people. Bye.”
“Wait.” She grabbed my arm and came closer to me. “You pledged to donate a million dollars. Where are you going to get that money?”
I stared at her. She was truly unbelievable. She wasn’t asking to be concerned. She was asking to snoop.
“I’ll get the money from the same place you did.”
“What?”
I tilted my head to her. “Quick question. Are you going to keep Wyntor as your last name, or are you going to take your husband’s?”
Her eyes widened, her grip loosening. Her lips opened and closed like a damn goldfish.
“You know,” she finally confessed. “I’m sorry. My mom told me not to tell you—”
“Did she really?” I questioned. “Did she also tell you to call me and pretend like getting married for the money was a bad idea?”
“Let’s talk about this—”
“No.” I pulled back my arm. “Whatever game you and your mom are playing, I don’t want any part of it. I’m going to get what belongs to me, and we will all do our best not to cross paths with each other.”
“So, you’re going to do it?” She crossed her arms. “You are going to get married. Despite the fact that you always said you didn’t want to?”
“What? You can, but I can’t?” I stepped away from her. “Things change. I’m allowed to change my mind with them. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a husband to find.”
“Odette!”
I didn’t bother turning back. I was done with this crappy ball.
Chapter 9
“Sir... Sir.”
I groaned in protest, turning over.
“Your Highness, pardon me, but—”
“I do not want to pardon you. I want to go to sleep,” I muttered.
“So, I should tell that to Ms. Wyntor?”
My eyes snapped open, and I peeked under my arm at him. He stood there, stone-faced and disinterested.
“She came back?”
“She is waiting in—”
“I’m right here.”
At her voice, I flipped over on the bed to see her—still in that damn dress—in my doorway, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Miss! I told you to wait.” Iskandar panicked for the first time that I had ever seen.
“It’s my home, so why would I wait downstairs?” she stated, coming to the side of the bed, kicking off her shoes, and making herself perfectly at home on the mattress. It was her bed, but still, I could only stare at her in utter disbelief.
I have to be dreaming.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, placing her feet under herself. “You can fly two thousand miles here, wanting me to marry you, but I can’t sit on a bed next to you. Scoot over!”
I looked to Iskandar, who only stared back in utter confusion as well. When she smacked my leg, I did what she asked and shifted, giving her more space.
Nodding, satisfied I had listened to her the first time, she uncorked the bottle of red. “Are you drinking with me, or am I drinking alone?”
“Are you drunk now?” I asked, sitting up. And when I did, Iskandar immediately threw me a T-shirt. I had to admit, seeing him so flustered was hilarious.
“Nope. Wine or no?” she asked, holding out the glass.
I put on my shirt before taking the glass. “Iskandar, you can go.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not going to attack him or anything,” she shot back.
“You sort of already did,” I muttered, and her eyes narrowed on me dangerously, clearly telling me to shut up, before she looked back to Iskandar.
“Don’t worry. He’ll still be alive in the morning.”
“He’s not worried you’ll hurt me. He’s trained to adhere to palace etiquette—a.k.a. he is a prude,” I teased. “This is a bit scandalous for him.”
“This isn’t a palace. The only rules of etiquette here are the ones I make up. So, no scandal,” she stated. “If he doesn’t leave, he has to join us on the bed and drink.”
I bit back a laugh. “You heard her, Iskandar, which will it be?”
He frowned and nodded, leaving the room. However, he only closed the door slightly—something she also noticed and chuckled over.
“You would think we were preteens the way he is worried. I’m sure you’ve had scandalous moments with women in the palace before.”
“Never in the palace.”
“So, other places?”
“Definitely other places,” I admitted behind my glass.
“Of course.” She snickered before drinking as well. “You look like the type.”
“What does that mean? The type?”
“The stereotypical prince playboy. I can see it all over your face.”
“It is wrong to judge people before knowing them. I will have you know that I am a kindhearted gentleman—”
“When you’re not seducing women?”
This woman!
“Was the ball so bad without Prince Charming you had to run back here to pick a fight with me, Cinderella?” I teased, though I really wasn’t sure of what was happening. I was out of my depth here.
“You can just call me, Odette. It’s after midnight now,” she whispered, leaning against the headboard.
I glanced at my watch on the nightstand, and it was exactly twelve minutes after twelve. I tilted my glass toward her. “Hello, Odette. I am Gale,” I said, and she tapped her glass against mine.
“If this were a fairy tale, I would have gotten here exactly at midnight, but I guess there’s no traffic in Cinderella’s world.”
“Were you aiming to come here by midnight?”
Am I sure I am not dreaming?
“No,” she replied, brushing a curl off her shoulder. “But it occurred to me as I got here that it would have made a fun story.”
“If you want, we’ll just say you did. Who else will know besides me, you, Wolfgang, and Iskandar.”
“My driver.”
“Did he not turn back into a mouse?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, you are definitely cheesy, and this has definitely been an interesting night.”
“You are telling me?” I scoffed. “I am not sure if I am awake or dreaming—ouch.”
She punched me and had the gall to just
smile up at me all innocently. “What? That’s how you prove to someone you aren’t dreaming in this part of the world.”
“I am sure there are better ways.”
“Cold water to the face?”
“I said better.”
Again, she grinned at me and fell back into silence, drinking slowly.
“I was trying to beat around the bush and ask you why it is you are here, drinking wine in bed with me, but it seems that failed, so now I need to be blunt.”
“Be blunt then.”
I thought I was. “Why are you here?”
“Because I’m thinking about saying yes to marrying you, but I can’t get over just how insane it is to marry someone you don’t know, let alone a prince. So, I need you to tell me all the horrible things that would happen if we did get married.”
I had to take a second to detangle that statement. “So, you are trying to sabotage your effort to say yes to marrying me?”
“Exactly.” She lifted her glass.
She is cute. A little strange. But cute.
“Can I save my arguments for the morning?”
“It is the morning.”
“Then how about sunrise?”
“If I go to sleep now, I’m definitely going to disagree with marrying you again.”
She did not need my help, correct?
I rubbed my eyes for a moment. Two hours ago, Odette was declaring she would never marry me. Now she was thinking about it? What happened at that ball? “Why don’t you explain why you are thinking of agreeing, all of a sudden?”
“My reasons are pitiful.”
“I highly doubt they are worse than mine.”
“Actually, my first reason is pretty similar.” She frowned.
I thought about it. “You need your inheritance.”
She nodded. “Reason one is I need the money and want the money, but I don’t want to need or want the money. There are people who have nothing and can never get more than nothing,” she said gently.
“Ah, so you have, Dalsgaard syndrome,” I said very seriously, knowing she had no idea what that was.