Chapter 4

Victoria fussed over Marcus like he was a fragile doll.

She plumped his pillows, the ones I used to sleep on.

She brought him tea, insisted on quiet.

She even cooked for him, something I' d never seen her do. Simple broth, but she made it with such care.

The way she looked at him, her eyes soft with a worry that was undeniably real.

That, I thought, was love.

Or something very close to it.

Something she never had for me. I was just a distraction, a temporary fix.

This raw, anxious tenderness she showed Marcus – that was the genuine article.

It hurt, but it also clarified everything.

I was in the living room, packing the last of my books, when I heard a crash from the bedroom.

My heart leaped into my throat.

Mom' s music box.

It was a cheap, ceramic thing she' d had since she was a girl. It played a tinny version of "Clair de Lune." It was her most prized possession, and I' d brought it for comfort.

I rushed in.

Marcus was holding the two broken halves, a cruel smile on his face.

"Oops," he said. "Slipped."

My mother' s music box. Her only link to her own mother.

"What did you do?" I whispered, my voice shaking with anger.

"It was an accident," Marcus said, his eyes glinting. "Unless... you want to make it up to me?"

He dangled the broken pieces. "Tell Victoria you're happy I'm here. Tell her you want me to stay. Maybe even... polish my shoes? Then I might consider gluing this back together for you."

The humiliation he wanted to inflict was bottomless.

"I'm leaving, Marcus," I said, my voice tight. "You've won. Isn't that enough?"

"Enough?" He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Watching you squirm is half the fun, Ethan. You really thought you meant something to her?"

He made a show of examining the broken ceramic. "Such a shame. It looks irreplaceable." He tightened his grip. "Say it. Say you're nothing but her little pet."

I wouldn't.

"No? Pity."

With a sudden, vicious movement, he smashed the two halves together, then ground them under his heel.

The delicate ceramic shattered into a dozen pieces, the tiny musical mechanism crushed.

"NO!" I lunged at him, blind with rage and grief.

I didn't even land a punch. He was stronger, quicker. He shoved me hard.

I stumbled back, hitting my head against the doorframe. Stars exploded behind my eyes.

That's when Victoria walked in.

She saw Marcus, looking shocked. She saw me, dazed on the floor. She saw the shattered remains of the music box.

"Ethan! What did you do?" Her voice was like ice.

Marcus was instantly by her side, his arm around her. "Darling, it was awful. He just... attacked me. He started smashing things. He said he hated me being here."

Lies. All lies.

But Victoria' s eyes, fixed on me, were filled with cold fury.

"You ungrateful brat," she hissed. "After everything I've done for you."

She didn't even ask for my side. She didn't care.

"Get him out of my sight," she snapped to her driver, Michael, who had appeared in the doorway, drawn by the commotion.

"And Michael? Lock him in the storage unit in the basement. Let him cool off. He' s clearly hysterical."

The storage unit. It was small, windowless, cold.

Michael looked uneasy but obeyed.

He dragged me out, my head throbbing.

I didn't resist.

In the dark, cold storage unit, I sank to the floor, clutching the largest broken piece of Mom' s music box.

The sharp edge bit into my palm.

I remembered Mom, humming along to its tune, her face peaceful.

A happiness I' d destroyed by getting involved with these people.

A sob escaped me, raw and ragged.

"I wish I'd never met you, Victoria," I whispered into the darkness, the words tasting like ash. "I wish I'd never let you touch my life."

Delirium was setting in. The pain in my head was immense.