by Callie Rose
Philip walked over, squinting at the large photo. “Ah. Yes. And the Whittaker, Van Buren, Prescott, and Mercer boys.”
My stomach dropped.
Holy fuck.
I knew every one of those names like they’d been imprinted on the backs of my eyelids.
Finn Whittaker. Mason Van Buren. Elijah Prescott. Cole Mercer. The Princes.
I stared at the photo, my nose hovering so close it almost brushed against the glass. “I don’t understand. I knew them? She knew them?”
“Yes. Your mother was very close to those families when she was younger. When the five of you were babies, you were near inseparable. Especially the Van Buren boy. He wouldn’t let anyone else near you if he was around. And if anyone picked you up, even Charlotte, he’d cry his eyes out.”
“No way,” I muttered.
There was just no fucking way. The Princes liking me? Mason protecting me? The four of them thrived on my humiliation and shame, feeding off it like fucking vampires. There was no way those sweet, innocent, chubby-cheeked kids were my tormentors.
Philip cleared his throat, shifting beside me. I glanced over to see him staring at the picture almost as intently as I had been, his face drawn.
“This was just before things went… bad. It was a few years after they all graduated college, and they’d just started a business together. They had very high hopes for it.”
I sank back onto my heels, stunned. Each new piece of information rocked me, and I felt like my world had been flipped on its head and shaken hard. The image in the picture before me didn’t match any version of reality I knew.
“What happened, Grandpa?” I whispered. “She looks so happy here. How did she go from this to leaving Roseland and never coming back? Never even mentioning this place to me?”
Philip frowned, releasing a heavy breath. “She changed. Everything changed. She became erratic, got mixed up with drugs and alcohol. Your grandmother wouldn’t abide by it, and that only made Charlotte act out more. She started behaving in ways that…” He trailed off, wiping a hand over his forehead, where a sheen of sweat glistened. “Never mind. It’s in the past, and there’s nothing we can do to change any of it. I need to go lie down. It’s best if you go back to your room until dinner.”
I wanted to ask him more, to press for more details, but the pallor of his face scared me. He looked sick. I reached out a hand but pulled it back quickly.
“Do you need help getting to your room?” I murmured.
“No, thank you,” he said stiffly. “I’m not that old yet.”
He retreated back down the hallway, his spine straight, reaching out to the wall once to steady himself. I watched him go and then fled back to my room, a riot of questions banging around in my brain.
What the actual fucking fuck?
I stared out my window at the ocean below, trying to piece together everything I’d learned into some kind of cohesive whole.
I had been born in Roseland.
My mom had never told me that, had never even mentioned this place as far as I could remember—and my dad definitely hadn’t. I’d always thought the two of them met in Sand Valley, but they must’ve met here if I was born before she left California.
Was that what’d driven her and my grandparents apart? The fact that she’d married someone so far below her social standing?
Then there was the mind-blowing fact that I’d known the Princes when we are all young kids, maybe just one or two years old, and they hadn’t hated me then. Although that wasn’t totally surprising, maybe, since most babies didn’t come out of the womb knowing how to hate—it was something they learned.
My mom had been friends with their parents, something Jacqueline had failed to mention when we’d talked about the Princes and their families before.
But somewhere in there, sometime between when that picture on the wall was taken and the day she got killed by a drunk driver, something had totally flipped. My mom had gone off the deep end, burning her bridges so completely that by the time she left Roseland, no one here even wanted to acknowledge her existence.
It couldn’t have been long after that picture was taken either. Maybe a year at most?
How could things have gone so bad so quickly?
Then again, maybe things were already going bad when it was taken. One snapshot didn’t necessarily mean anything.
And as I was beginning to learn, a pretty facade could cover up all kinds of decay.
The rest of the winter break passed without incident, mostly because I made it a point to stay out of Philip and Jacqueline’s way.
We all seemed happy with that arrangement, and I got the feeling that although they wanted me at the mansion in theory, they found my actual presence a bit stressful.
I drove into town a few times to shop or go to the movies, just to get out of the house, and on Christmas morning, we all exchanged the most boring gifts in the world. It was like a white elephant exchange, where you don’t know anything about the person who’ll be getting the gift, so you get them something utterly bland and hopefully non-offensive.
On the Sunday before school started back up, one of the house staff brought my car around and loaded my bags back into it. Philip was locked up in his study again—his good mood on the day of my arrival hadn’t lasted long—but Jacqueline walked down the front steps with me.
I turned to her awkwardly, twirling my key ring around my finger, when she surprised me by pulling me into a hug. My body jerked in surprise, but I tentatively wrapped my arms around her.
“Thank you for coming, Talia,” she murmured, her voice low in my ear. “I know it’s not the most fun spending time with two old folks like us, but… I’m very glad you came.”
The honest emotion in her voice surprised me, and I gripped her tighter before drawing away. “Me too. Thanks for having me.”
She smiled softly. “You’re welcome anytime. Come back some weekend, will you?”
“Sure. I will.”
“Good.”
She squeezed my hand, and I was about to turn away when she tugged on it lightly, pulling my attention back to her. The smile on her face had faded, replaced with a small frown.
“Talia…” She pursed her lips. “I heard a rumor that there was a party at the end of the semester. And that there was a significant amount of drinking there. I also heard that you were present. Is that true? Were you partying? Drinking?”
I slipped free of her grasp, gripping my keys tight and shoving my hands in my back pockets. The memory of what Philip had said about my mom’s descent into drinking and using drugs flickered through my mind.
Your grandmother wouldn’t abide by it.
“Um. Yeah, I was there. And there was drinking, but I don’t really do that. I try to be really careful, with my dad and all…”
I shrugged, glancing away.
Her dark hazel eyes regarded me carefully, the crow’s feet at the corners deepening. Then she nodded. “Good. Good. I’m glad to hear that. Your academic record last year was excellent, although I did get a call about your attendance once. Remember, Talia, everything you do or don’t do reflects on your character—and it reflects on us. Reputations matter, maybe more than anything else, and we’re counting on you to respect ours.”
“Right,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably under her penetrating gaze.
Jesus. No pressure though, right?
Was this what Mason had been talking about when he’s said they all had it rough too? It did suck, though I couldn’t see how it was as bad as working fourteen-hour shifts to support an abusive, alcoholic father.
I hoped Jacqueline couldn’t tell I was lying about the party, but I’d spoken with confidence because my words were mostly true. I really didn’t drink much at all, and I had vowed a long time ago to never end up like my dad.
Or, I guess… like my mom.
The lines on Jacqueline’s face smoothed as she beamed at me, apparently considering the matter settled. She patted my shoulder. “Go
od. Have an excellent semester. Remember, watch your attendance.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I walked quickly to my car and slipped inside, rolling slowly around the large circle drive and waiting until I was through the gates and halfway down the block before gunning the engine hard.
Sweet, sweet freedom.
Chapter 16
It felt surprisingly good to be back on the Oak Park campus. The green lawns, large trees—a mix of palm and oak—bright white buildings, and red roofs against blue skies were beautiful and oddly comforting.
I’d missed this place, somehow, as improbable as that might be.
But that didn’t stop the thrill of anticipation and dread that worked its way up my spine as I pulled my car into a spot in the student parking lot. I’d tried not to think much about the disastrous party over the break, but my grandma’s questions had put it front and center in my mind again.
Tomorrow, I’d have to face the Princes again.
What would they do? How would they react? There was no way they could let what I’d done go unpunished, and they’d had two whole weeks to dream up their revenge.
Sighing, I slipped out of my bubble-gum pink car and dug my bags out of the trunk. As I hauled them across campus, I could feel the tension ramping back up in my body, my senses going on high alert again, scanning for possible threats.
But although I passed several other students in the quad, nobody taunted me or shoved me or tripped me.
As I unpacked, I texted back and forth with Leah, getting caught up on her break and filling her in on mine in two short texts—there wasn’t much to tell. Our grades had been emailed out over the holiday, and while we’d both done well, she was horrified to have only pulled a B- in Biology. I’d ended up with A’s in all my classes, and even managed to pull an A+ in US history.
There you go, Jacqueline. One for the Hildebrand name.
I didn’t know if the school sent out my grades to her and Philip too, although I presumed so. Either way, I hadn’t bothered telling her. Honestly, I didn’t really want my good scores to be counted as a “Hildebrand win”. They were my win, my accomplishment, and I’d spent hours hunched over books studying my ass off as an investment in my future, not to try to placate my grandparents.
The next day, I woke up early and slipped on my uniform, tugging uncomfortably at the red tie constricting my neck. I’d forgotten how much I hated the damn thing.
Just like fall semester, the teachers started things off a little slower—lulling us into a false sense of complacency before they slapped us across the face with mountains of homework, probably—and it was an easy morning of reading through syllabi and discussing class expectations.
When fourth period arrived, I couldn’t find Leah, so I went to the dining hall by myself to grab food. It was cool and windy outside, but I figured if I sat somewhere sunny, it wouldn’t be too bad.
The Princes were already there, the four of them sitting at a table near the door, talking in low voices. They looked up as I entered, but I studiously ignored them, grabbing a tray and getting in line to pick up my food. They hadn’t stopped me from actually eating last semester, just hadn’t let me do it inside the lunchroom, and I hoped that hadn’t changed.
As soon as I had my sandwich and drink, I made a beeline toward the door, and I had almost reached it when Mason’s voice called out over the murmur in the room.
“Legs!”
I stopped mid-stride, turning slowly to face them.
Fuck.
All four of the Princes were watching me, and the conversations around the dining hall had died out quickly as people turned toward us, eager to witness the drama unfold.
“Yeah? What?” I shifted my weight uncomfortably.
“What are you doing?” Mason drawled.
I suppressed the urge to snap at him. He had an irritating habit of asking obvious questions that somehow made me look like the asshole when I answered.
“Getting lunch.”
Instead of responding with words, he kicked out a chair at the table he, Finn, Elijah, and Cole sat at then jerked his chin toward it.
I blinked at it, then back up at him.
The implication was clear.
Sit there.
But I didn’t.
My feet stayed planted to the floor, my entire body taut as a piano wire.
He rolled his eyes and cocked an eyebrow, repeating the chin jerk as if to say are you going to make me make you?
Chewing on my lip, I stared at him, well aware that the entire room was now watching our silent exchange.
I could refuse. I could walk right out the door and see if Mister Big Man on Campus would actually get out of his seat to chase me down and physically drag me back.
But I’d already defied them once at the party. If I did it again, who knew what they might do to me? My chest felt tight as I sucked in a breath and walked over, numb legs carrying me toward their table. I set my tray down and slid into the empty seat, bracing for the moment pig’s blood would be dumped on my head, Carrie-style.
But nothing happened.
The whole dining hall seemed to hold its breath for a few heartbeats, but when the Princes simply went back to eating as if nothing were out of the ordinary, everyone eventually turned away.
My sandwich sat untouched as I glanced around the table. They all seemed completely relaxed. Finn’s face had gotten more tan over the break, the highlight in his hair a little lighter, and I assumed he must’ve spent a lot of time in the sun. Cole had a purple mark by his eye—guess the fight club started back up early—and Elijah looked as elegantly handsome as always.
Mason lifted his gaze as I stared at him, and a smile quirked his lips, making him look almost human. “What? You said you wanted to be one of us, Princess. And if you’re one of us, you eat with us.”
He winked at me, a touch of humor flashing in his bright green eyes.
Then he and Elijah fell into a discussion of the lyrics of a band I’d never heard of while Finn and Cole talked about a new surfing spot Finn had discovered over the break.
I sat in silence for several minutes before finally picking up my sandwich and taking a bite, listening to their deep voices around me and wondering whose life I had somehow stumbled into.
As soon as lunch was over, I stood up so fast my chair almost tipped over behind me, snatching up my backpack and darting for the door before any of the Princes could stop me.
I heard Finn call my name once, but I didn’t turn around, pretending I hadn’t heard him. By that point, I was willing to let them come after me and drag me back if they wanted me, humiliation be damned.
The entire lunch period had been an unbearable, painfully surreal experience. I felt like I was being punked, being gaslit, as if I was living in some weird Twilight Zone episode where the only person who remembered last semester was me.
What the fuck kind of game were they playing?
What did they want from me?
Was this their punishment for me standing up to them at the party? Making me hang out with them?
As far as torture tactics went, it was cruelly genius. I couldn’t think of four people on campus I wanted to spend time with less—even if my traitorous body hadn’t quite gotten that memo.
But fuck that shit. I’m not their little puppet. They can’t kick me to the curb one minute and expect me to come running back the next.
Things only got weirder in fifth period Biology. When I walked in, Elijah was sitting in the back with an empty desk next to him. That never fucking happened. As soon as he sat down, the girls in the class would always swarm around him, not even bothering to be subtle as they changed seats to get closer.
Just like Mason had done, he met my gaze and inclined his head toward the desk, indicating he’d saved it for me. When I pointedly took a seat on the opposite side of the room, he frowned but didn’t do anything.
He didn’t let anyone else sit there either.
I didn’t train at al
l during sixth period. I just sat against the wall in the studio, staring at my reflection and chewing on my lip until it was swollen and red.
In English Lit, Mason had a desk saved right beside him, and when I again ignored it, his eyes narrowed. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and even though he answered Mrs. Beaupre in a smooth voice when she called on him, I could feel his scorching gaze on me the entire class.
As soon as class let out, I gathered up my shit quickly—but not fast enough. I was a few yards down the hall when I felt him behind me, and I braced myself for whatever was coming. Threats. Taunts. Cruel words or public humiliation.
But he just took my elbow in a surprisingly gentle grip.
“A word, Hildebrand?”
My gaze snapped to him, my body jerking at his touch. I swore I could feel the heat of his fingers through my jacket, searing me like brands, and goosebumps traveled up my arm. I was so thrown off that I didn’t resist as he tugged me into a stairwell at the end of the hall. It was only when the door closed that I returned to my senses, yanking my arm out of his grasp and turning on him.
“What do you want, Mason? What the fuck do you want?”
He held up his hands, palms out. “All right, Princess. Don’t worry, I know you have claws. I haven’t forgotten.”
I swallowed, anger and nerves sloshing in my gut. “If this is about that night—”
“It is,” he said quietly. When my shoulders tensed, he huffed a soft laugh. “But not in the way you probably think. We’re not fucking with you, Princess. We’re not trying to get back at you.”
My eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why not?”
His brows drew together, a sardonic smile teasing his lips. “Do you really want us to?” Then he shook his head, his expression growing serious. “Because you were right.”
“What?”
“You were right. You are the same as us, and it was shitty of us to treat you like you were any different. You’re a Royal, and we need to accept that.”