Chapter 1
Nine months ago
Zara
I really fucked up this time. Not even a little bit either. It’s not going to matter that it wasn’t my fault. Like always, according to Clifton and Priscilla Black, I’ll be the one to blame. I ruined my mother’s figure. My father’s friends and business associates pity him because he didn’t have boys to take over his business. Those are the least of my sins.
I’m messy and chaotic and I don’t fit into the box they tried to shove me in and haven’t for a long time. I’m essentially a burden. A mistake they never wanted in the first place. At least when I was little, I got to share the misery with Amelia. But she’s been gone for more than half my life, so I get to bear the full weight of the elder Blacks’ disappointment and apathy.
Just thinking about my sister brings tears to my eyes. There are days when I wish I could hate her for leaving me. For abandoning me. But I can’t. Not knowing what I know. Instead, I wish I had been old enough to understand what it was she’d been going through. That she could have talked to me like I talked to her even if my problems were juvenile in comparison. She’d been more than my sister. She’d been my confidante. My best friend in the whole world. Practically my mother, in fact. It didn’t matter that she was only nine years older. She made everything better. She made me feel loved. Then…she was gone. And to our parents, it’s like she never existed.
I get up from my bed and pace my bedroom. The pristine—everything in its place because that’s how Priscilla requires it—bedroom. Although these days, it feels more like a cage. Maybe I wouldn’t be so on edge if there was shouting down below. God forbid Clifton or Priscilla Black raise their voice though. Then again, they don’t need to. Not when every sneer, every disdainful stare, every disappointed sigh says it all. I chew at a nail already chewed raw. It started after Amelia was gone. What began as a nervous—yet soothing—habit became my first small act of rebellion. It may seem ridiculously minor, but chewed-up, ragged nails don’t fit the Black image.
Perfection has to be maintained at all times .
A bitter snort erupts out of my nose. What a joke. Perfection is merely an illusion my parents hide behind. They have no idea I see through it and have for a long time. It gives me the tiniest bit of sadistic pleasure to fuck with them on occasion. At least it did until now. Because, after this, the shame is real. And ugly. It’s like a cancer weaving an insidious path through me. I suck in a ragged breath, trying not to break down. I’ve had years of practice hiding my emotions. I’m not going to cave now. Especially not now.
Muted footsteps grow louder until they come to a stop in front of my door and there’s a single knock before it opens without me giving permission for the person to enter.
“Your father will see you in his office now, Miss Black,” my keeper , Sylvia,announces in her usual condescending tone like I’m some visitor who had an appointment.
Without a thank you, I shoulder past her, and with my head held high and my back ramrod straight, I march to the room I hate the most. It feels more like a mausoleum, filled with so many ghosts, including the person I used to be. Knowing I won’t disobey, Sylvia doesn’t follow to make sure I don’t dawdle. I reach Clifton’s office—I stopped thinking of him as dad a long time ago—take in a deep, bracing breath and push the cracked door farther open.
Seated behind the god-awful glass and metal monstrosity he calls a desk, with his hands resting on its surface and his fingers intertwined, is my father. His light brown hair is swept back off his broad forehead and there’s a hint of gray at his temples. Hardly any lines mar his face. How could they? He never smiles.
Off to the side, perfectly perched on a brown leather wing-back chair, with her hands folded in her lap is the woman who gave birth to me. Her blonde hair, so similar to mine, is carefully coiffed without a single strand out of place. None would dare. Similarto her husband, she has nary a wrinkle. Clifton glares while Priscilla glances away dismissively.
“For the last year I have either ignored or put up with your nonsense and utter disregard for the Black name. You have cost me thousands of credits cleaning up your messes and making them go away. Our family has a reputation to uphold. One that dates back hundreds of years. Yet, in the span of twelve months you have managed to tarnish that sterling reputation. And for what? You have gained nothing from your little rebellions other than to become a laughingstock amongst the upper tier.”
I grit my teeth to hold back the curse threatening to escape, because fuck those people.
“What is worse is you have made your mother and me laughingstocks,” Clifton continues. “This little escapade of yours is not something that can be swept under the rug. Do you know how many people have seen that disgusting video? Already, the Board has been bombarding my comm with calls for my resignation. You have embarrassed your mother. More important, you have embarrassed me. It’s bad enough that you’ve made a mockery of yourself this past year, but now I am being dragged into your stupid decisions.”
My cheeks heat and that familiar shame spirals through me. Still, I keep my mouth shut. Which is, apparently, the wrong thing to do. Clifton slams his palms on his desk, and I flinch. So does my mother.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” he raises his voice.
I have a lot to say, actually, but none of it you’ll like . “I’m sorry.”
“That’s it? You’re sorry?” Disdain drips from his tone.
Despite my attempt to keep my emotions in check, my eyes burn with unshed tears and I sniffle. I blink them away, though, refusing to shed them in front of these people who don’t care about my feelings.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” That’s all Clifton is getting out of me. If he or Priscilla showed an ounce of compassion for what happened to me, maybe I’d give them more.
My father sneers and laces his fingers together again. Only now, he leans back in his chair and lays them across his waist. “You’ve left me no choice, Zara. This is no one’s fault but your own.”
I blink in confusion. No choice for what?
“You will return to your room. Sylvia has packed a bag for you. I don’t care where you go, but you are no longer welcome in this home. You have caused enough harm to the Black name. I will not let you destroy it any more than you already have,” Clifton announces with a note of finality. “Do not come back. If you try to use my influence to help yourself in any way, it will not be given. As of today, you have ceased being a member of this family. I am done letting you ruin your mother and me. You are dismissed.”
I stand there for several seconds. “I don’t understand.”
“What is there to not understand? You will take the few belongings I am allowing you to have, and you’re leaving this house. We are finished with you, Zara. You have disgraced this family for the last time.”
“You’re kicking me out.” I don’t even phrase it as a question. It’s nothing but a breathed statement of disbelief. Instead of the person responsible, I’m the one who continues to suffer. Against my will, tears well in my eyes, and a single drop spills over to race down my cheek. I hate myself for shedding it.
My gaze darts between the two people who are supposed to love me unconditionally. My father raises a brow expectantly while my mother sniffs with a hint of disdain, even though she won’t meet my eyes. She continues to stare somewhere on the other side of the room. Certainly not at me. I lock gazes with my father.
“Why do you hate me?”
Clifton brushes a nonexistent piece of lint off his suit jacket front. “I don’t hate you.”
“You don’t love me though, either, do you?” When he doesn’t answer, I take in a ragged breath through my nose and nod. “I see.”
Another minute passes. Or maybe seconds, but it’s clear all that’s going to be said has been. I turn my back on the people who turned theirs on me long before today and head for the door. For only a heartbeat, I hesitate at the threshold. Whether it’s because I’m waiting for one of them to call me back—to tell me they’re sorry and they didn’t mean it—or because I should say something flippant or for some other reason entirely, I’m not sure. But none of those things happen. Instead, I follow the same path I’d taken to get here back to my room.
Sure enough, Sylvia waits inside. A single suitcase lies on top of the bed. I walk across the room, grab the handle, and drag it off the bed. At least she was kind enough to pack it full, although who knows what’s inside. Maybe nothing I can actually use. I won’t ask though. I won’t give her the satisfaction. Once again, I head for a door and hesitate at its threshold. Only this time, I glance over my shoulder.
“I’m the one who told Grayson you were fucking Charles behind his back and I’m not even a little bit sorry.” So much self-satisfaction courses through me at her wide-eyed expression and gaping mouth. “He deserved better than you and now he’s found her. I hope the fact that Grayson’s happier now than he ever was with you eats away at your shitty, hate-filled heart.”
In a petulant gesture, I give her my biggest smile and my middle finger. Then I head out into the hallway, into the elevator, and then into the atrium of our building. Motorized bots carry various items in their outstretched arms as they enter and exit the service elevators. It’s one of the reasons we moved in here. We had our own personal delivery system. Of course, they were all built by the company on whose Board Clifton sits. I dodge a couple of them all while wondering why my vision is so blurry.
It isn’t until I step outside onto the busy pedestrian platform that I realize I’m blinded by tears. At least no one’s paying me any attention. All the people walking past are focused on themselves. Not a single one of them notices me standing there with a suitcase in my hand and nowhere to go. I have more acquaintances than I can count, but all the friends I have were shared with Bryce. There’s no way in hell I’m going to comm any of them.
I track my surroundings until I’m snagged by the bright lights of a massive electronic marquee. Different advertisements appear on it, pause long enough for a bystander to read its message, then dissolve, only to be replaced by the next one. A large yellow, purple, and black planet materializes on the screen. Across it float the words “Want to experience a brand-new world? One with plenty of land, where you can live peacefully and quietly and away from all the chaos of the city? Why not head to Tavikh?”
More info slides across the massive screen, but I don’t pay much attention. My brain keeps playing the first part over and over. A brand-new world. Peace. Quiet. No chaos. All the things Amelia and I used to whisper about in the dark. How wonderful it would be to get away from everything. Away from Clifton and Priscilla. Just the two of us. We’d have a cute little house like they had a couple hundred years ago with stucco exterior and flowerbeds under the front windows.
It had been a completely unrealistic fantasy, but I’d held onto it all these years. As the image of the planet dissolves and another one replaces it—the face of a woman wanted for questioning regarding the murder of a CEO of some tech company— I remain standing there.
A warm feeling fills me. It reminds me of how I felt whenever Amelia hugged me. She’d been soft and squishy and gave the best hugs. They were the only ones I’d ever received in my entire life.
I’ve gone more than seventeen years without her arms around me. Except this feeling that’s growing inside makes me think maybe she’s telling me something. That this is my chance to do what we’d always dreamed about. To go. For her. Since she’ll never be able to.
There’s nothing for me here on Earth. I don’t have any credits, and even if I somehow made my way down to the bottom tier—I shudder at the thought—I have no skills. Not a single one. It’s as though I was purposefully left helpless. Reliant on the goodwill of Clifton and Priscilla Black.
Well, fuck that.
I’m getting on the next ship and I’m going to Tavikh to live my best life ever. Not only for myself, but for Amelia.