by V. F. Mason
I don’t want any other bruises.
Rocking back and forth, I hum different songs, keeping myself company while the things brush against me over and over again, and with time, I find calmness in their presence.
Because in this darkness and cold, I’m not alone.
Even if it’s only a mouse or a rat keeping me company that could bite me at any time.
So it’s safe to say I hate nicotine.
“You want to introduce me to the ton so they can’t use it against him?”
Grandmother chokes on the smoke and then laughs, the mocking sound sinking its claws into my skin and leaving fresh scars. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised such an idea came to your stupid mind,” she says once she catches her breath. “You’re a dirty secret my family has that would have never happened if my son kept his pants zipped.” Anger flickers in her gaze, fury lacing her tone, and I mentally step back from the blow, although I know it’s coming. “He disgraced my family when he fathered a child with a nameless whore. You’re a Dawson, but for me, you are nothing but the daughter of a whore. You’ll never be introduced to the ton for as long as I live.” She has said it all to me so many times over the years, the pain etched itself in every part of me, so I almost don’t react to it.
Almost, because then I catch my reflection in the nearby mirror, reminding me I’m no longer a seven-year-old standing in front of this woman who teaches me a lesson every time I ask for anything that other kids in this house have.
No, I’m twenty-one years old, so I act like the grown-ups do.
Strike right fucking back, fed up with them throwing insults my mother’s way. “If my mother was whore… who is your son then who slept with her?” I straighten my back and lift my chin. “A Dawson stupid enough to be enamored with a whore. Maybe my stupidity comes from him.”
Grandmother’s jaw drops, shock evident in every feature while her eyes blaze with such fury she practically vibrates with it. “How dare you—”
I cut her off before she starts her speeches again. “No, Grandmother. How dare you insult my mother over and over again in my presence!” I shout the last part, and she leans back either from shock or what… I don’t know. Her cigarette ash drops on the floor, but neither of us pays attention to it. “Enough is enough. Don’t talk about her anymore,” I warn her, wondering where the hell this newfound confidence came from, but then I’ve lived alone for ten years.
I learned to take care of myself as no one else ever did, and I won’t allow anyone to put me down again.
“Or what?” she asks, but this time around, something else colors her tone, while her stare almost fills with… curiosity?
“Or you will regret it. If you don’t plan to introduce me to the ton, it means you want to keep me hidden here from the press if they start hunting for information.” Although her expression stays blank, I don’t miss how her jaw twitches, and that’s an answer in itself. “I’m not going to listen to the crap you spat at me for years. If you or anyone else in this house continues to say shit about my mom, I’ll retaliate. And none of you will like the consequences of it.”
If there is one thing the Dawson dynasty values above anything else, it’s their perfect reputation. And no one is allowed to smear it in dirt, but I so fucking will if it means taking my payback.
The only reason I’m holding back and playing by the rules is because I don’t want to be the center of attention to all those people… or rather wolves hiding in sheep’s clothing.
I put the book and the mug on the nearby table. “I don’t want your gift either. With your permission, I’m going to go to my room now.” Although, by my tone, I expect she is guessing I’m not really asking for permission.
I half turn, ready to get the hell out of here, when she exclaims loudly, “Wait!” She sighs, her nose twitching. “At least you have character. I can’t say the same about your siblings.” I ignore this statement; my siblings stopped interesting me when they laughed instead of helping me during the constant abuse I faced from their father. “Tonight, we’re celebrating his birthday. There will be a big party. You have to attend it.” She waits a beat before adding, “Then you will go back to Greece or any town in Europe to do whatever you want.”
Right, how could I forget about the story they came up with a long time ago?
For all intents and purposes, I’m the adopted daughter who this household took care of when my real parents died. This way, no one would ever judge Dawson, but there is a small detail they seem to forget.
My birth record must show the truth, or so they said; not to mention, it would be really easy to find out who I truly am if anyone wants to destroy Dad’s alliances.
Having a bastard was one thing. The upper class could have closed their eyes on that one, but not when Dad built his entire persona as a devoted husband and father who put his family above anything and anyone.
In the end, he did anyway when he kicked me out.
I focus only on the second part and cross my arms. “I won’t go back to Greece. I’m staying in Chicago.”
“You are not!” Steel laces her tone. She drops her cigarette and bangs her fist on the table. “You will show your face and leave!”
How convenient for them all.
The naïve fool in me played by their rules, because I thought someday I’d earn their love, but since this will never happen, I no longer wish to sacrifice my life at the altar of their selfishness. “No, Grandmother. I will stay here. Those are my conditions.”
“Your conditions?” she spits, rising from her chair and then falling on it again, breathing heavily, and for a second, I pause, not sure what to make of it.
She has never shown any sign of weakness to me before, and I wonder if the political career she wants for Dad really hides the fear of her dying soon, and with this she tries to ensure a good future for the Dawson lineage.
“I’ll play my part, smile brightly, and act accordingly, but only if I can stay. Otherwise, prepare for the world to know the truth.”
She shakes her head in disbelief, coughing a little before taking a large sip from her glass. “You think you can threaten me with this however you please?”
I shrug. “Why not? You’re the one who gave me such a weapon.”
“Ungrateful brat,” she says, hatred evident in every word, and despite how I’ve built protective walls around my heart, it still contracts painfully in my chest, reminding me of the scars on it that will never heal.
And the little girl still living inside me who craves the acceptance and love of her family.
“I should have told them to send you to foster care when your mother dropped you at our doorstep. The minute I saw those different eyes of yours, it was God’s way of hinting to me you’d bring trouble.”
At least she no longer calls me a witch.
“When a scientist invents a time machine, I’ll let you know. Maybe then you can fix this.” I wiggle my hand between us and announce, “Think about my proposition, Grandmother.”
She gets up swiftly and sways a little but keeps her posture straight, her hands fisting, while she practically shakes with rage and anger. I expect her to grab her cane and beat me with it. Wouldn’t be the first time either. “Fine. Play by the rules and you can stay in Chicago.”
“Splendid.”
I blow her a kiss, and she grits her teeth. “I regret the day you were born, Briseis.”
What can I possibly say to that?
With one last glance her way, I spin around and march toward the hallway, wiping the few tears sliding down my cheeks and plaster a bright smile on my face, ready to face the staff or anyone else I might encounter on the way to my room.
People are always afraid of tears, not knowing what to do with the person who cries or how to help them.
Funny thing though that not many know?
Smiles are far more dangerous.
For some of the brightest smiles cover some of the most piercing pains.
And only those w
ho have lived in hell can truly attest to that.
Chapter Four
“When a man has a choice between endless glory and forbidden love…
what does he choose?”
Briseis
From Flora’s diaries
10 October
Today, I fell in love.
My hands tremble as I’m writing these words, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I gulp the air into my lungs.
Howard Dawson.
The most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.
When he walked into my father’s office—dark hair, mesmerizing eyes, and his muscled body wrapped in a gray suit—my stomach flipped, and for a second, the world around me ceased to exist.
All I could do was stare at him, resisting the urge to run to him and touch his face, to make sure he was real.
A dream come true, the white knight in shining armor, my true love who was always meant to come to the castle and rescue me from my strict father.
While I stood in awe of him though, he didn’t even spare me a glance, addressing only my father who, with an annoyed flick of his hand, ordered me to leave them alone, which I did.
I have to listen to his orders, even if my sister Matilda says I don’t have to do it; according to her, I should show a little rebellion to accomplish my dreams.
Maybe that’s why she waved her middle finger at him and ran away with some musician, shouting at Daddy that she didn’t want his money or influence to make it in this world.
Based on the newspapers the maids sneak inside the castle for me, they got married a few months ago, and she has even started to sing duets with him.
When she chose him, I felt resentment toward her. She just abandoned me to be with some random guy….
After meeting Howard, I think I understand. If she fell in love with her guy the way I just did with mine… she did the right thing.
My love will always stay unrequited, so there is no hope of him ever offering for me to run away with him.
But I’m grateful, as I thought I wouldn’t even get that in my sheltered life.
I’m eighteen years old, and despite all the invisible chains my father has placed on me, my soul is soaring from this overwhelming emotion warming me from the inside out.
Briseis
A loud knock echoes in the room as I come out of the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel, and since I’m wearing a bathrobe, I call, “Come in.”
A hand holding a black garment bag comes into view followed by a stunning redhead as she peeks inside, winking at me, and exclaims with her arms wide open. “What happens when your best friend comes back and doesn’t inform you?”
Dropping the towel, I scream in delight, followed by her giggle, and rush toward her, enveloping her in a tight hug, my arms wrapped around her neck. “Lenora!” We rock from side to side, the dress rustling between us as I lean back, noticing how radiant her skin with freckles is and how slender her form is in her floral dress. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
She huffs in exasperation before flicking her hair back and scans her gaze all over me. “No thanks to you. If it weren’t for the old hag spitting at my grandpa about your lack of manners, I’d still have no clue. Girl, I missed you!” I chuckle at what she calls Grandmother, never hiding her emotions toward her even though she grew up in this house. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She sounds hurt and rightfully so. We’ve been friends for the last sixteen years. After I was banished from Chicago, Eliot arranged for her to come visit me every summer, so our bond became stronger with time.
Lenora is the only person I can trust with my darkest secrets and not be afraid she might use them against me.
I sigh heavily, stepping back. “Because I’m a fool.”
She shuts the door with her foot and walks farther into the room, putting the bag on the bed carefully before placing her hands on her hips while facing me.
I groan inwardly, knowing it’s impossible to hide from her prying eyes. “You thought the old hag invited you for a family reunion?” My silence is all the answer she needs, her brows furrowing, and she asks another question. “She didn’t?”
“Nope. Just wants to make sure I keep my mouth shut.” I pick up the towel from the floor and throw it in the basket. “In short, it’s nothing new.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“Me too.” I thread my fingers in my hair, shuffling it a little and almost crying in distress when I feel some of it is dry already, which means I won’t have much control over the heavy locks already forming on my head. It’ll be hell trying to straighten them for tonight’s party.
I go to the huge vertical mirror in the left corner right next to the balcony door where bright sunlight streams into the room through the purple curtain, creating almost magical lighting around the room.
To my shock, everything here stayed the same: the white furniture consisting of the bed, two bedside tables, and a cushy chair in the right corner with the round table.
A small closet is located right next to the bathroom, which only has a bathtub as Clare, my father’s wife, thought having a shower there as well would have been too much of a luxury for me to have.
“Look at the bright side,” Lenora says, sitting on the edge of the bed, puffing at a lock of her hair, and I look at her expectantly. “You’re back home.”
“I guess, yeah.” While one might think at twenty-one I can do whatever I please and don’t need anyone’s permission for anything, it’s not really true when it comes to the Dawson family, who have connections everywhere.
Until their veto was lifted from my exile, I had no chance of coming back. God knows I’ve tried many times, but anytime I went further and wanted to involve the authorities, Grandmother would call to ask me if I liked psychiatric wards, because one was waiting for me the minute I landed.
She would have totally put me in one to teach me a lesson of obedience, not to mention involving the Dawsons in a scandal.
And ironically, I never doubted her words. I prefer to be called weak and stupid rather than spend the rest of my life in a psychiatric ward with people believing I’ve lost my mind.
When you’re all alone in this world, you have no one but yourself to rely on.
One of the reasons I worked in Greece like crazy, earning money whenever I could and never touched the stupid credit cards they sent my way when I turned seventeen. The only thing they paid for was my education, but even that changed when I got a scholarship for my last year, as I didn’t want to owe them anything.
My gaze travels to the bag, and I lift my chin in its direction. “What’s that?”
She taps her fingers on it. “A little welcome home gift from me.” She must read my confusion, because she rolls her eyes and gets up.
She leans forward, unzips it, and takes out a rich, silver-colored dress, holding it proudly for me to see before exclaiming, “Ta-da!” I just stare at it, and she cocks her head to the side. “Well, don’t just stand there. Say something!”
“You bought a new dress?”
One thing Lenora loves more than her grandfather and me is fashion, her greatest passion and career choice. She got into one of the top universities due to her designs and has big plans of becoming someone famous one day.
“Yeah, I bought a dress and decided to show it to you. Are you crazy?” She shakes the dress in her hand, lifting her other hand up and down over it. “This is for you.”
“For me?” I ask dumbfounded, studying the dress and wondering why I need something so beautiful when I don’t wear dresses and spend my days in shorts sculpting.
The strapless dress is mid-length, probably reaching down to my knees with a full skirt and a narrow waist, as the upper part of it has a bustier. The silver reflects the light, and the silky material almost begs me to touch it.
“For tonight’s party. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she prompts and grins at me. “The minute I spotted it in Frankie’s warehouse, I knew it would be perfect for you.”
> It only takes a second for the information to register in my mind. “Frankie, as in Francesca, one of the best new designers in the country?” Or on the way to it—she’s trying to conquer the high-fashion world now while her online store has year-long waitlists.
Lenora nods happily and I groan. “How did you get it? It’s super expensive.” Lenora works two jobs in order to support herself, refusing to let her grandfather help her. The last thing she needs is to give me expensive gifts. “You have to take it back.”
She bursts out laughing, strolling to the hanger on the closet door and hooking the dress there, carefully adjusting it so it doesn’t get wrinkled. “My boss, aka Frankie, gave it to me when I told her about you.”
“Since when do you work for her? Besides, doesn’t she live and work in New York?”
“Since I won an internship with her. She’s awesome. She has a warehouse here too and comes twice a month to check on supplies.”
Taking a deep breath, because sometimes catching Lenora’s train of thought is like pulling a cat by its tail, I ask another question. “Did she rent it to us? We have to give it back by tomorrow?”
“Frankie gave it to you as a fucking gift, Briseis, so just accept it.”
“I don’t need a dress.”
Lenora turns to face me, crossing her arms. “Okay. Do you have a dress for the party, then?” She already knows the answer and gives a brief glance to my still unpacked suitcase. “I bet it’s full of shorts and T-shirts.”
“Grandmother will find me a dress. You know her. She thinks of everything in advance.”
“Give me a break. She will give you—” Whatever she wants to say gets interrupted by a loud knock on the door before one of the maids opens it, bowing her head and saying, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Ms. Dawson. I brought you a dress.”
“Thanks.” I want to take it from her, but Lenora beats me to it, snatching it from the maid who hastily retreats with a nod, carefully closing the door after her.
Lenora opens the cover, and we both blink when the hideous, purple dress comes into view, looking as if someone found it on the side of the road after several cars had driven over it.