I cut her off. “I appreciate your concern but this letter is all I need at the moment. Thank you for your help today.” Lifting my hand, I hold it out, waiting for her to give me the envelope with the paperwork that will change my life.
With a sigh she passes it over and I quickly pull the letters free and scan the words. I close my eyes for a second, relieved, then I open them again and smile at her. “Thank you,” I say, offering her my hand.
She takes it squeezing slightly as we shake and then I rise from my chair, the letter held tightly in my hand, and leave. After paying, I ride the elevator down to the street, sliding the letter into my purse alongside the video camera. Exhaling raggedly, I tighten my hold on the strap of my purse, only one more stop to go and this should all be over.
The sun warms my skin the moment I step outside and I tip my head back and allow myself a second to just enjoy the feeling, but a moment’s all I get, because I’m almost done, this is almost over.
Lifting my hand into the air I flag down a cab, climb in, and settle back into the seat. I have one more place to go before I head to my sister and Arlo’s engagement party, and once again, I wish she and I were closer. If we were, maybe we’d be doing this together. Instead I’m alone, because everything about me is orchestrated, fake, manufactured.
My cell buzzes in my purse, another missed call or text message from my parents. I’m glad that I figured out a way to stop them from tracking my cell phone, else I wouldn’t be able to evade them and by now they must know something is wrong. I’ve only ever stepped out of line once since this all started years ago.
The day I should have attended a dinner at Arlo’s house, I turned off my cellphone and went on a date with a cute bartender. I thought for a moment that he liked me, that he wanted me, just Carrigan, but in the end he knew about the money and was hoping to use me as his meal ticket.
My mom laughed when she found out where I was when Tallulah took my place that day. I expected her to go mad, but she just laughed and reminded me that the only reason I was useful to anyone, was because my name was on that will.
Sometimes I like to try and decide if my parents are the worse or if I am. They got side stepped, missed out on their chance at a fortune, I can almost understand them doing whatever they could to get it, even if they got access through me.
But I’m truly despicable, because I was a child and I still did all these things even though deep down I knew they were wrong. I wasn’t blinded by greed or need, I’ve never gone without anything my entire life. So what’s my excuse? I don’t have one, I’m just bad, just a really bad person.
I wish what I was doing now was truly selfless, that my actions were solely to release my sister from the shackles of obligation, but that would be a lie too. Trying not to ruin her life any more than I already have is definitely part of it, at least something inside of me wants to help her, but the biggest part of my motivation is to save myself.
With Arlo engaged to my sister, my parents moved onto the next boy on the husband wish list, only he’s not a boy, he’s a thirty-five-year-old man. I don’t even know him. I mean I’ve met him, I’ve met them all, from choice number one all the way down the list I’ve been introduced, stood in the same room. But I don’t actually know any of them.
Rupert Overston is business mindedly brilliant, rich, and successful. He’s also bisexual, predatory, and disgusting. This is the man my parents have arranged for me to marry.
Parents.
Freddie and Vanessa hold that title in the very loosest of terms. Before the will, they travelled and their two children brought nothing but inconvenience to the lavish lifestyle they preferred, and that was okay. Tallulah and I were raised by a series of nannies and tutors. I’m sure we weren’t the first rich kids to have absentee parents and we won’t be the last.
But after the will, everything changed. My every move became their decision. Every step I took had to be orchestrated, considered. The length and color of my hair, my speech, my makeup, the clothes I wore, the people I associated with. All of it became so much more important than me.
Perhaps if I’d grown up differently I’d have seen their actions for what they were, controlling. But to a fourteen-year-old girl who had gone from seeing her parents three or four times a year to suddenly having them there every day, basking in me, doting on me, it was invigorating.
I loved the attention, loved that it wasn’t about me and my sister, that it was all about me, only me. It didn’t matter that she was smarter, more poised, more beautiful with those strange purple eyes. I was the important one.
If I had even a shred of decency left in me I’d be ashamed of myself, but I think I’ve become so deadened inside that I don’t really feel anything anymore, least of all shame or remorse.
I imagine by now my parents must have figured out that I’m trying to break one of the will’s clauses, but neither of
