Prologue
Eight-year-old Aubrey stood in the entryway of the massive home and shivered. She held all of her possessions—or at least the ones that the woman who had been sent by her father to come get her would allow her to grab—in the small bag that she clung to her chest.
“Don’t dawdle in the hallway.” The woman, Miss Ellison, as she had instructed Aubrey to call her, nudged her forward, causing her worn sneakers to slip on the smooth tile floor. “Careful,” the woman hissed. “If you break anything in this house, Mr. Smith will have my head.” The woman scowled down at her.
Aubrey tried to focus on walking carefully and followed after the woman through the massive house. She got so distracted watching the way Miss Ellison’s crisp slacks almost crackled with each step that she forgot to pay attention to where the woman was leading her. The woman’s short narrow heels echoed in the large home, lulling Aubrey into a zombie-like state.
Suddenly, she appeared in a narrow hallway after what seemed like a maze of stairs, doors, and wider hallways.
“These are your rooms,” Miss Ellison said as she opened double doors and stood back to allow Aubrey to step inside.
The room was white. Very bright white. Everything inside was so stark, it almost blinded Aubrey. Blinking a few times, Aubrey set her bag down on the floor. Miss Ellison scooped it up quickly.
“I’ll just put your things away.” She moved over towards a dresser.
“No,” she shouted, rushing to grab her bag away from the woman. “They’re mine.” She hugged it once more to her chest.
Miss Ellison leaned down until they were face to face. “There will be no more of that kind of outburst in this house. Do I make myself clear?”
Aubrey held in a sniffle but nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Very well, put your own things away. I expect this room to be tidy at all times. Your father has arranged for clothing.” She opened two tall mirrored doors. There were more pretty clothes in the massive walk-in closet than Aubrey had seen in any store. Setting her bag down again, she walked over and ran a finger down the soft lace of a pink dress. “Your bathroom is in there.” Miss Ellison motioned towards a doorway. The woman’s eyes ran up and down Aubrey. “I expect you to clean up and get dressed into something more appropriate. Be downstairs for dinner in”—she glanced at the thin silver watch on her wrist— “an hour sharp.”
With that, the woman turned around and left the room. Aubrey heard the sounds of the woman’s heels echoing down the hallway as she disappeared into the house.
She was enthralled with all the clothes and spent a long time in the closet. She was a little shocked to see that most of the clothes were pink. Not that she didn’t like the color pink, but almost every item was a different shade of the color. Nothing was orange, green, red, or her favorite color, blue.
Leaving the closet, she opened the bathroom door and wasn’t surprised to see the white space. A large claw bathtub sat in front of an oval stained-glass window. A glass and tile shower sat in the back corner with two white sinks on white countertops directly across from it. Even the towels were white.
She turned away and sat on the white carpet to open her small bag.
Pulling out a worn picture, she looked down at her mother’s beautiful face and cried for her loss.
A little over an hour later, she pushed her unruly red hair away from her eyes and stepped into what she hoped was the dining room. She’d spent too much time trying to find her way around the empty rooms and long hallways. The place scared her but what scared her more was not knowing where she was. She vowed to learn every inch of the place as quickly as possible.
“You’re late,” Miss Ellison said sternly.
“I’m sorry, I… got lost.” She looked around the massive room. She promised herself that it would never happen again. She wanted to be able to escape any room, even in the dark, if necessary.
She’d seen her father only once before, the day of her mother’s funeral. Now the older man sat at the end of a very long table surrounded by servants as candlelight danced over his features.
“Well, come on then,” Miss Ellison said, taking her shoulders. Then she knelt down beside her and tucked her long hair further behind her ears. She straightened the white dress Aubrey had picked out to wear and frowned down at the sneakers she was still wearing. “Didn’t the shoes fit you?” she asked her.
“No.” Aubrey frowned. “They were too big.”
The woman nodded. “You’ll grow into them.” She stood up and straightened her skirt. “Now, go on and have a seat.” She motioned to the chair across from her father.
Aubrey walked over, willing herself not to trip, and sat down in the tall chair. Miss Ellison scooted the chair in until Aubrey’s stomach was pushed up tight against the table.
There were so many plates and so much silverware in front of her that she tucked her hands in her lap, afraid to touch anything.
“I expect you to be on time.” Her father’s voice boomed across the space, causing her to jump slightly.
“Yes, sir,” she answered quickly.
Her father’s eyes narrowed. The fact that they matched her own eyes caused her stomach to flip.
She had her mother’s fiery red hair and light pale completion, but everything else about her matched the man sitting across from her.
Her father was old and wrinkled, and she wondered if he’d been that way when her mother and him had made her. She knew all about how babies were made, thanks to Marcy Moore, a girl in her class. Marcy’s mother was expecting a baby and had told Marcy all about it. Of course, Marcy had told her everything, since they were best friends.
The thought of her mother loving the man sitting across from her had Aubrey’s stomach rolling again.
“Well,” her father called out, “the girl is here.” He waved towards a thin bald man, who snapped his fingers. Several staff members rushed around the table, removing empty plates and bringing a bowl of orange liquid.
She wondered quickly why the plates were there in the first place if they were going to just be removed.
Aubrey frowned down at the orange liquid in the bowl that had been set in front of her. “What is it?” she asked.
“Squash soup,” Miss Ellison answered. She hadn’t realized that the woman was still standing behind her.
“I don’t like—”
“You’ll eat what I provide for you,” her father said loudly. “Every drop.” His eyes narrowed.
Swallowing the determination to fight, she picked up one of the three spoons and scooped some into her mouth. After the first bite, she’d shut down everything, even the will to live.
Was this going to be her new life? Stuck in a new world, in a new house? Belonging to this old man? She was his property now, that was made very obvious.
He wouldn’t deny that she was his child, as long as she obeyed his every rule. He would feed her, clothe her, and send her to the best schools, as long as she obeyed.
She hated it, but since there wasn’t anyone else in her life that could or would watch out for her, she figured it was better than being stuck in an orphanage.
Maybe her father would grow to love her. She had seen the movie Annie. Twice. Maybe, just maybe, dreams could come true for her as well.