The reason I went with normal eyeliner, a touch of mascara, and baby pink lipstick is simple: to impress.
Because once today ends, my plan will come to fruition.
I smile at Dad, and it’s a real one, a thankful one. When Knox and I faced death, he saved us, had us call him Dad, and insisted we continue to even after his nine-year coma.
He’s the only dad I’ve ever had, and I’ve never shown him my thanks. This is my chance to do it properly.
“I want to do this, Dad. I don’t mind.”
“Teal…” Elsa pleads.
“Shall we?” I motion at the door.
Before any of us can do anything, the double doors swing open like in some fairy tale, and there stands a tall man wearing a butler’s suit complete with white gloves and a dispassionate smile. “Welcome to the Astor Estate.”
Only this isn’t a fairy tale — or perhaps it is, with a twist.
In the end, the hero won’t win. The villain will topple everyone’s lives over.
What everyone doesn’t know is, the villain wasn’t always a villain. Once upon a time, they were a victim.
“We always come here for Ronan’s parties,” Knox whispers to Elsa and me. “What’s with the formality?”
“I thought you don’t go to parties?” Dad gives him side-eye.
Knox grins. “I’m still your favourite son, Dad. Admit it.”
My father shakes his head with slight exasperation as the butler leads us through a large hallway filled with medieval portraits. Usually, for the parties held here, there would be guards near all these so none of RES’s students ruin them.
We’re led to a large dining table. This one is always closed and off limits for partygoers. That’s done for a reason.
The room is like a scene from a period film. Golden chandeliers hang from above, and the chairs surrounding the huge table fit for an army are high and meant to swallow tiny people like me.
At the head of table stands the lord of the estate. Earl Edric Astor, member of the House of Lords, a ruthless investor, a faithful husband.
And a fucked-up human being.
He smiles at us, reaching out his hand so his wife can rise from her chair and stand on his right.
She’s elegant and pale, almost like one of those Victorian era maids who were forced to marry an influential lord.
Something in my chest stings upon seeing her, her radiant smile and wasted beauty. What has she done to have to be married to a monster?
Ronan stands at his father’s left, grinning like an idiot. I don’t meet his or his father’s gazes. If I do, I might start having those signs that could trigger my episodes.
“Welcome, Ethan.” Edric motions at the seat. “Please. I’m honoured to have you amongst us.”
Dad, Agnus, and Edric exchange pleasantries. His wife, Charlotte, hugs Knox then Elsa. When it’s my turn, I force myself to remain still in preparation for the physical attack — and I kind of fail. Instead of hugging me, she eyes me up and down, but with no maliciousness. It’s more like…pure interest.
I fidget then stop myself when I realise I’m doing it. Damn. Did I just feel nervous or something? I don’t do nervous — not usually, at least.
Her lips pull up in the warmest smile I’ve ever seen on a human being. It rearranges her features, making her appear younger and softer. When she speaks, there’s a distinguishable French accent. “I love your sense of fashion.”
Usually, when people say that, it’s with a venomous undertone. Not Charlotte.
She pulls me close and wraps her arms around me. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
I pat her back awkwardly, almost mechanically, and just then, my eyes meet Ronan’s dark ones. His grin wavers for a second as he watches me and my hand on his mother’s back.