He wants to shove me out the door and pretend like I don’t exist.
Like I never lived here or was ever a part of this family.
In his eyes, I never have been, because his blood doesn’t flow through my veins, and I was an unwelcome part of the package when he met and married my mom.
“Vanessa needs to leave, sweetie,” he adds, deliberately softening his tone as he lifts Kayleigh out of my arms. He presses a kiss to her temple. “And you’ll be fine. You’ve got me and Mom and Hunter. That’s all that matters.”
My hands twitch with the urge to punch him, and I draw deep breaths to steady myself. Blowing my sister a kiss, I swiftly turn around before I do something I’ll regret.
Like remove my gun and put a bullet between that asshole’s eyebrows.
I take a shuddering breath as I step outside, closing the door behind me. Relief is sharp but bittersweet because I’m not here to run interference anymore.
Daylight is creeping across the skyline, casting a glorious golden hue on the land below. In a bit of a daze, I stare at the impressive manicured lawn in front of me. This moment is longed for but still surreal. We live in an affluent area of New York, in an exclusive gated community that houses celebrities, attorneys, businesspeople, and several politicians.
It’s beautiful here, but, for me, it’s an illusion.
I’d rather be broke and happy than rich and living a lie.
Leaving my suitcases by the water fountain, I walk around the side of the massive two-story property and into the ten-car garage. I guess I should count my blessings he has let me keep my Range Rover Evoque. It was my parents’ gift on my sweet sixteenth.
I know I only got it so they could keep up appearances.
Aaron Breen values his reputation above anything and everything in his life.
He turned the legacy his parents left him into a hugely successful business. His parents established and managed a chain of grocery stores across the state of New York, but their only offspring turned it into a global brand that rakes in millions and millions every year.
He likes to play the part in every aspect of his life. From his stunning trophy wife to his picture-perfect blond-haired blue-eyed kids.
I’ve always been the odd one out. Trouble with a capital T. His reckless, selfish, stepdaughter who tarnishes his image with her out-of-control behavior.
Behavior he caused.
Not that he sees it that way.
On the surface, it looks like I want for nothing.
Behind the veil, I’ve been deprived of everything most girls my age take for granted.
Pain slices across my chest, so I reinforce my steel walls and dull my emotions until there is only a calm emptiness in its place.
Climbing in my car, I start the engine as a shadowy form in the corner of the garage catches my eye. Mom ghosts toward me, the layers of her pink silk nightgown floating behind her as she approaches. She’s walking with an obvious limp, and acid crawls up my throat. I lower the window when she reaches me, my eyes skimming the myriad of fresh bruises across her chest and arms. They’re strategically placed to be hidden under clothes, but that’s nothing new.
“Here.” She hands me a thick, padded envelope. “That’s all I’ve been able to get. Any more and he’d notice.” I peek inside at the bundles of hundred-dollar bills. I don’t even consider turning it down. I’ll need every cent I can get my hands on. And this woman owes me so much more.
I decide on one last-ditch attempt. “It’s not too late to take the twins and come with me. We can plan it. We can—”
“Stop, Van. You know he won’t let me go.” Her words are clear and un-slurred, and it’s a rarity. Lucid moments between us have been few and far between lately. “There’s no place we can run to where we can hide.” She grabs my arm, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. “I know why you don’t want to go, and I’ll keep her safe.”
A harsh laugh bursts from my lips. She’s so fucking delusional.
“I’m sorry I failed you,” she adds in a whisper, tears coursing down her cheeks. “You deserve so much more.”
“I do, Mom. But this isn’t about me anymore.”
It’s too late for me but not for my sister.
I clutch her arm, pinning her with a somber expression. “Don’t fail Kayleigh, Mom, or I swear to God, I won’t just be coming back for that monster.”
PART I
Summer after High School
CHAPTER ONE
Jackson
Eleven months later . . .
“THANKS, MAN,” HUNT says, as I step out of the elevator directly into the hallway of the New York penthouse apartment I share with him. He’s shaking hands with a tall, skinny dude with glasses, both looking all serious and shit.
“Sup, dude.” I jerk my head in acknowledgment at the geek when I reach them.
His nose wrinkles in distaste as he quickly scans my sweaty form.
It’s hot as hell out today, so I ran my usual route in Central Park in minuscule training shorts and sneakers. Sweat has plastered hair to my brow, and it glistens on my upper torso, gliding a path down my spine. I wipe my slick brow with the back of my arm, sending a wave of stinky air in mystery dude’s direction. His face pales, and I grin, chuckling when he takes a step away from me.
“Jamison was just leaving,” Hunt confirms, ushering the guy toward the elevator I’ve just stepped out of.
I walk into our large open-plan living space, grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and stalk to the wide ceiling-to-floor window, looking out at the vast expanse of Central Park down below. I guzzle water as I survey the hustle and bustle of summertime life in New York.
Never thought I’d say it, but I miss Rydeville, and it’s only been three weeks since we graduated high school and headed back to New York for summer break. I miss the more laid-back lifestyle, my other best bud Anderson, his wife Abby, and our group of friends. But I sure as shit don’t miss all the elite crap we got caught up in.
“Do you have to be so obnoxious?” Hunt asks, appearing at my side.
I flash him my pearly whites. “Did I offend your fuck buddy?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not fucking Jamison. He’s the guy I told you about. The one I’ve been paying handsomely to dig into Gerald Allen Junior’s background. To see if he could find some link to Dani.”
Pain prods at my heart, like it always does any time my sister is mentioned. I still struggle to believe she’s gone. Even though it’s been almost five years, the agony of losing her isn’t fading. I spent years using weed, booze, and sex to numb the pain of her loss, but it also numbed me to most everything else.
Including the ability to properly mourn, and it denied me revenge.
It was Abigail Hearst-Manning—now Abigail Anderson, after she wed my buddy Kaiden last Christmas—who altered my way of thinking. Abby’s strength and resolve pulled me out of my head. She fought to regain control of her life and to make her father and those elite bastards pay for what they did to her and others, and it ignited a spark that grew to a flame inside me.
Now, that flame is an inferno, raging wildly, barely controlled, and the only thing that will tame it is finding the bastard who destroyed my sister and making him pay.