Faithless: A High School Bully Romance (The Privileged of Pembroke High Book 3)

by Ivy Fox

  And now, my girl is going to face the remaining monster that still breathes. Call me what you will, but life imprisonment is a sentence too lenient for Vivienne West Grayson. I wanted her to suffer for all the injustices that Snow was forced to endure at her hand. I wanted to hear her beg, on her knees, broken and bruised, pleading for mercy. But I guess living in a cage will have to suffice.

  The time I spent in jail made me aware that prison life isn’t for the meek. Vivienne might know her way around Park Avenue, but I doubt she’ll have much luck with real criminals. She may have her way with nasty words and manipulating people on the outside, but inside, she’ll be mingling women who know nothing but sheer violence. Good.

  If she thinks this will be another episode of Orange Is The New Black, then she is dead wrong. Prison life is a hundred times more daunting, and I can’t wait until it dispirits her completely.

  The bell rings, and I squeeze Snow’s hand one more time, silently telling her that I’m here for her. She could have picked Ollie or Ash to come with her, even Elle if she asked, but I’m grateful she chose me to confront the wicked witch. I guess she just knew that, for Vivienne, I have more to say.

  We wait in our seats as women of all walks of life start to arrive, smiles plastered on their faces, happy to see their loved ones. But when I see raggedy, yellow hair, and a frown the size of all Manhattan, I smile wide, realizing it’s Vivienne without all the bells and whistles that made her look untouchable. She looks like she’s aged decades, and it’s only her third month in this joint. When her eyes land on us, the scorn in them is unmistakable, and I can’t help my grin spreading even wider in triumph.

  She doesn’t wait for us to stand, which is astute of her since I wouldn’t do the same for her benefit.

  She takes the seat in front of us, and says, “Have you finally come here to gloat? Because if you have, I have better things to do with my time.”

  “No, you don’t. All you have is time, Vivienne, and nothing to do with it but think about all the hideous things that you’ve done,” I tell her, her sinister grin making an appearance.

  “Rome,” Snow hushes beside me, and I shut my mouth, knowing this is not the reason she came here. Even though I’d love nothing but to curse the bitch out, that’s not what Snow has on her agenda, and I have to respect that.

  “What do you want?” Vivienne says harshly, gaining one of Snow’s disappointed sighs.

  “What I want, you can’t give me. I wanted a mother that loved me, but you only ever loved yourself.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Vivienne protests, starting to get up from her seat.

  “Sit your ass down before I make you,” I growl, and like the cunning woman that she is, she takes my warning to heart and does as she’s told.

  “I didn’t come here to argue. That’s not what this is about.”

  “Okay,” she counters suspiciously, eyeing her daughter up and down. “So, what is this about?”

  “I know that both you and Malcolm had a friendship with very few secrets,” Snow begins, picking at the right words.

  “And?” She shrugs.

  “And I want to know if there were more girls like me.”

  “Like you?” Vivienne cocks her bushy eyebrow.

  “Yes, Vivienne. Like me, Carmen and Eleanor. I want to know if there are more girls out there that he hurt.”

  “And what if there were? Is this a trick or something? Is that it? Because that’s entrapment!” Vivienne starts to holler, already looking ready to bolt from her seat again.

  Holland shakes her head and extends her arm toward her mother, shocking her when she pulls at one of her hands and locks it with hers. I look around to make sure no guard sees the intimate exchange. The mere sight of it rolls my stomach, but I don’t want Snow to get in trouble for one moment of tenderness, even if given to a woman that doesn’t deserve it.

  “I know that he hurt you, too, Mother. Maybe if he hadn’t, things would have been different. Maybe you would have been different.”

  Vivienne pulls her hand back, away from her daughter’s caress, as if Snow just scalded her with hot oil instead of the gentle mercy she intended.

  “I only said those lies to gain pity from the jury,” she scoffs, looking at Snow as if she was the fool in the room. “Malcolm never hurt me. He was my love. My soulmate.”

  “No, Mother. He was a predator, and you enabled him,” Snow deadpans, all clemency gone from her stoic face.

  I watch Vivienne swallow dryly, and for the first time, I see a scared expression behind her eyes.

  “What do you want with the others? The girls, I mean.”

  “I want to create a fund where these girls can get help. The trauma and pain won’t go away on its own. His victims need therapy and counseling so they can overcome the terror he brought on them. I believe Malcolm might have taken advantage of girls who can’t afford such assistance or are too afraid to come forward. I want to ensure that they have the means to get the help and guidance they deserve. But I can’t do that if I don’t know who they are.”

  Vivienne begins to tap her brittle, filthy nails on the table, the gears in her mind turning as she takes stock of us both.

  “Am I correct to assume this is one of your little projects for the Grayson Foundation, Rome?”

  “No, this is all Holland. She’s the one heading this project with her own funds. You know, the ones your late husband, Craig, hid from you?” I can’t help but jab.

  Her nose flares in disdain, as her nails pick up speed on the table, making an annoying sound, which then comes to an abrupt stop when she presses both palms on the table.

  “If I do this, get you all the names, then you have to do something for me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want a good word to the parole board when the time comes. I would ask for Rome to sweet talk the Governor for a pardon, but that may be farfetched, so I guess all I can ask is that you tell the parole board about all the girls I helped by sending them over to you. Agreed?”

  “I’ll send someone to come pick up the list later this week,” Snow announces, standing up and nudging me to follow suit.

  “So that’s it? No last words?” Vivienne mocks with a pleased grin to her lips.

  “I have nothing else to say to you. Anyone else, I’d wish them a nice life, but you don’t even deserve that. But I hope you know that, while you rot in your cell, I’ll make the most out of my life. Goodbye, Vivienne.”

  And with those words slapping the bitch’s face, we leave her behind.

  When the steel doors close behind us, I can’t keep the burning question lodged in my throat from coming out.

  “Are you really going to help that bitch when her parole hearing comes up in thirty to forty years?”

  Snow bats her eyes at me ever so innocently, and I swear my cock stiffens with the following words that spring from her cherry lips.

  “What do you always call me? Am I not your perfect little liar? Why should I stop now?”

  Epilogue

  Holland

  Five years later

  The minute the crowd begins to cheer, my stomach does a silly little somersault as if it never heard such a wondrous sound. I close my eyes just to let the whistles, the applause, and enthusiastic praise sink in.

  This must be a dream.

  A beautiful dream.

  I open my eyes and hear the cast on stage summon me by name over the joyous uproar of the audience. I realize that my reality is even better than any aspiration I could have fantasized about, or any wish I could’ve had upon a lonely fallen star, growing up back in Brookhaven. It’s even better than anything I could have desired, upon blowing out candles on a birthday cake. Somehow against all the odds, I surpass it all and this is my reward.

  “Ms. Grayson,” Valentina, my stage director, summons, her bright smile ecstatic with the reception of the audience. “They are waiting for you on stage.”
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br />   “I know, Val. I’m just taking a moment to let it all sink in.”

  She nods, understanding perfectly how I want to memorize this day—taking a mental picture of it and store it somewhere safe inside my soul. But I know there is no need for such measures. These glorious events are just added to the long list of wonderful memories I’ve made over these last few years. They no longer need to be so safeguarded or hidden away in the confinements of my mind afraid someone might snatch them from me. I know no one can. There isn’t anything left to fear anymore. All my demons have been buried away and all that is left is to enjoy this extraordinary life I’ve been given and blessed with.

  I hand Val my chart and ear set, my heart already at my throat with overwhelming excitement and gratitude. I walk through the applauding, cheerful stage crew, thanking them for all their hard work and support in making this play the success it is. I take a long intake of breath and begin to walk to the center stage amongst the talented cast of actors who performed my songs and words to perfection. I couldn’t have asked for a more dedicated team to grasp what I envisioned in my mind for this play and turn it to something even grander than I could ever have hoped for.

  It was perfect.

  As I reach the stage’s center, the audience applause increases, all praising me, the person behind such musical vision and prowess.

  But to me, it wasn’t really a vision at all.

  The show is nothing but my past brought to life.

  Well, almost.

  I know the real reason behind everyone rushing to buy a ticket—standing outside for hours in the cold and waiting for the ticket booths to open—was the taboo element I inserted to my musical, which gives it my personal twist to an otherwise tragic romance.

  It’s not every day you see a remake of Romeo and Juliet’s love story, where the heroine in question has three suitors instead of one. Juliet’s hand has been promised to the charismatic and handsome Count Paris, while the rebellious and smart-mouthed Mercutio tempts her with his wicked ways and sharp tongue. And then, of course, she has her Romeo, the son of her greatest foe, broken and empty until his lips touch hers, vowing his eternal love to her.

  Where Shakespeare’s version has Juliet killing herself after her love dies in her arms, in my revised adaptation, she fights her way through all the turmoil their families have burdened them with and rescues her love from such fate. Juliet refuses to live a hollow life without all three men, and runs away with them to Mantua, leaving Verona’s cruel torments behind them once and for all, giving them all the ‘happily ever after’ they were destined to have.

  And while Juliet needed to flee her home to hold on to her happiness, I was able to keep mine living in the very city that saw it bloom. My own ‘happily ever after’ is right here in the front row, standing on their feet and making the most noise. Just as I always imagined it, everyone I love made it to my opening night.

  Nana and her beau came all the way from England, intent in being here for my big day. Pride and joy glistening in my grandmother’s eyes, as she witnesses my Broadway dreams finally coming true, aware of the dire obstacles I had to overcome to make it happen.

  Right next to her stands my best friend, Candy, big as a house with her third kid in her belly, whistling with two fingers in her mouth, not caring one bit about the noise. Xavi smiles proudly, looking at her glowing face as she screams and hollers my name, love and adoration in his eyes.

  And right beside the loving couple, sits my other best friend, Elle, the sister that has stood by me through thick and thin since the day she entered my life. The girl who has more inner strength and fearless determination in her little finger than most grown men have in their entire being. Like always, she stands in the middle of her two tall shadows, forever at her side, afraid someone will steal their love away from them. As if that’s even possible. Elle might have those two whipped into shape and around her pinky finger, but her heart is as much theirs as they are hers.

  My goofy grin beams brighter when I see that Reid made it with his girl, too. Not only does it warm my heart that he’s here, but its honor in itself that he was able to pull his wife away from her beloved typewriter long enough to come and watch the show.

  With all the love I’m receiving from my family, it wouldn’t be complete if the other three men beside them weren’t here.

  My beautiful, loving Ollie, his hazel eyes glistening with pride and gentle smile cresting his face, makes my heart tighten at how lucky I am to have encountered such a love, always resilient and steadfast, ready to take on any storm—pure to its core.

  Hollering above everyone else in the theatre with my name on his lips, stands his fraternal twin and my rebellious love. Ash beams brightly, looking magnetic and devilish in his three-piece suit, holding a large flower bouquet in his hands. My unruly boy is now a man, just as wild and mesmerizing as the day when he walked into the Shack and stole my heart with his sinful smile.

  And then there’s Rome.

  My Rome.

  My husband.

  He’s looking at me like he’s never seen such a beautiful sight. Unashamed of the tears of joy falling down his face, he mouths out the words I’ve heard a million times and still never tire of.

  I love you, little liar.

  I let them shine through me, my smile so wide I’m sure it can be seen from outer space. My heart is so full I fear it’s about to burst. How did I ever get so lucky?

  It wasn’t always like this. Sometimes the nightmares still come to me. My psychologist, aka Chad’s mom, tells me it’s expected. Certain traumas never leave us. They are imprinted on your soul like freckles on the skin after sunburn. But it’s okay. I learned that the past and all its tribulations lead me to the wonderful life I lead now.

  I have friends that are as dear to me as my own family. And the family I do have, the one who welcomed me with open arms, is the one I treasure most of all.

  We bond together in the good and the bad times, to fight whatever comes at us, knowing we will always prevail.

  My health and my past assault are still a concern, but it no longer defines who I am.

  No one looks at me and says, there goes the girl with lupus.

  No one even thinks of me as an assault victim.

  All everyone sees is a survivor.

  A loved woman with an amazing journey ahead of her.

  And as I look at the audience, friends, and family claiming my name, I have faith that this life will only get better. In fact, I know it will.

  Life is full of surprises—some good, some bad. It all depends on which ones you hold on to. And my life is still just at the start line. The buzzer has rung its horn, and it’s up to me to make it to the finish line.

  But I’m not alone.

  I’ll never be alone again.

  Not when I have these three men in my life, loving me the way they do.

  Once my stepbrothers, now my partners in all things.

  And I, for one, can’t wait for the next chapter in our lives to begin.

  But then again, who could with these Grayson men at their side?

  The End

  The Privileged of Pembroke High series continues in

  Ruthless.

  Elle’s love story is coming this spring, and you won’t want to miss it.

  Thank you so much for reading Faithless.

  If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving an honest review.

  It may only take you a minute to write, but reviews are what get books noticed by other readers. By writing a small review, you are opening the door for my love stories to be enjoyed by so many others.

  I’d also love it if you would check out my author page and I invite you to join my Facebook group, Ivy’s Sassy Foxes.

  Much Love,

  Ivy

  xoxo

  Ivy Fox Novels

  The Privileged of Pembroke High

  Heartless

  Soulless

  Faith
less

  Ruthless

  Rotten Love Duet

  Rotten Girl

  Rotten Men

  Bad Influence Series

  Her Secret

  Archangels MC

  After Hours Series

  The King

  Acknowledgments

  You would think that after writing so many books, I’d be used to this part by now.

  Well, you’d be wrong.

  Completing Faithless was one of the most challenging experiences I have ever encountered in my author journey thus far, and thanking all the people who helped me through it, is a feat I don’t think I’ll be able to do justice.

  My struggles had nothing to do with the actual writing per se, and more to do with my own personal reality. Without getting into too much detail, our family took quite a blow a few months back, and the heavy hitter’s name was Cancer. The news came as a shock, and our family’s usual daily routine changed immensely in order for us to be there for our loved one. A change in routine could have easily been overcome. That wasn’t the problem. It was the heavily charged sentiments that followed with such news that really took its toll on us.

  Everyone who knows me is aware that my boys are everything to me. My life would hold no joy without my husband and kiddo at my side. They are my heart. To have such suffering touch our household, was something that absolutely messed with my head. So it took me a while to get my shit together and just go back to Faithless and give the Graysons the happily ever after I had envisioned for them.

  And during all my chaotic mess, the usual suspects came to my aid. They gave me words of comfort, words of hope, but most of all, they gave me their undying friendship—and that right there I’ll never be able to thank properly on how much I appreciate them.