Only I’ve seen the ugly bits, the parts she doesn’t show to anyone else.
“We’ll be leaving for the church in an hour,” she huffs. “I’ve had the biggest fight with your father,” she sighs.
“He is not my father,” I bite out, anger raging through me at her inconsiderate words. She’s convinced I’ll accept Bradford Thorne as my father, but what she doesn’t know is that nothing she can do will ever make me want to call him Dad. And that’s what she can’t understand. I mean—he’s wealthy, influential, and he has connections—her words not mine. I’ve heard rumors of Bradford, the man who owns the world.
Okay, maybe not the world, but he does own half of America, and from what I’ve garnered, he also has Europe, Britain, and most of Southern America in his pocket. A man who knows that money can buy anything, and the next item on his list is my mother.
“You need to learn about respect,” Mother bites out, and I know she’s talking about me actually accepting some asshole as my new father. She didn’t even wait for Dad’s corpse to go cold before she was diving onto Bradford’s dick. I shudder at the thought. At least I know for sure I won’t have any surprise siblings because my mother had her tubes tied after she had me. And I only know this because I overheard a fight between my mom and Dad when I was younger; she was adamant one child was enough; whereas, he wanted another.
“I’ll respect the man, but I will not call him Dad. He is not my father,” I retort. Anger sizzles through my veins, and I’m ready for another one of our infamous arguments when Jeannine, our maid, nears us.
“Ms Ellington, the car is on its way.” Her voice is low, and I know she’s scared of my mother. Everyone in this house is afraid of the wrath that Marcia Ellington spews.
“Thank you, Jeannine.” Mom doesn’t look at her. Those luminous green eyes are still pinned on me. “Get ready.” She spins on her heel and leaves me glaring daggers at her back. If only one would pierce her, just to show her how much it hurts.
“Are you alright?” Jeannine asks, regarding me with her gentle smile. I wish so much she was my mother. If only.
“I am.” I nod. “I have to get ready, you heard the queen,” I bite out, causing Jeannine to grin. More like an evil queen.
“Take care of yourself today, don’t let her upset you.”
The warning in her voice sends a cold shiver down my spine. She’s seen me broken by my mother’s cold words, by her constant berating comments. Her time spent in this house has led her to learn just how my mother loves me.
I nod, stepping back and closing the door, as Jeannine makes her way down the hall toward the staircase.
Sighing, I head into the bathroom with my mind on the upcoming nuptials. I don’t want to go, but when your mother gets married, your attendance is expected. Frustration blooms in my chest. I wish I could go live with my aunt. She’s, at least, someone who I can get along with. Someone who I can talk to; whereas, my mother is more focused on her career and making headlines.
Marcia and Mallory are sisters, but they couldn’t be more different. Even though they came from the same womb, three years apart; Mallory, my aunt, is a gentle, affectionate woman. My mother, on the other hand, is cold, aloof, and hates being a mom.
Time to get ready. Time to see just what this new man I’ve never met has in store for us because my mother agreed to marry him before I even had the chance to come face to face with Bradford Thorne.
The church is massive, filled with guests, people I’ve never met. My nerves are shot. I hate being in the public eye, and I honestly wish my mother had chosen a more intimate event. All my life, I’ve struggled with anxiety, especially in crowds like this, but Marcia always enjoyed pushing me outside my comfort zone; hence the scars I bear that nobody will ever see.
The man sitting at the large organ starts playing a song I don’t recognize, and the doors slide open. I’m standing at the altar beside the priest. Opposite me are two boys; well, men actually, but they can’t be older than twenty-five. They’re gorgeous, and I can’t stop myself from sneaking peeks at them.