The audio goes dead.

I keep staring at the screen as if it’ll magically resume or explain Alicia’s words.

Mum wanted us apart?

Granted, I never had a mother. I knew my biological mother had a one-night stand with Dad, and the moment she gave birth to me, she threw me in front of Dad’s doorstep and disappeared into the night like she was never there.

My start in this world was just like that. Unwanted. Thrown away. A shame.

When Alicia first came to see me, I was three years old and she was seventeen. I remember it so well, that first meeting. I remember the fascination and how I inched closer to her until her summer scent mixed with marshmallow and vanilla enveloped me. I remember the way we smiled at each other like we always knew we were meant to cross paths.

Alicia said that she found out by chance that she had a sister and confronted our mother to tell her where I was.

After that, Alicia made it a habit to visit me. Mum never did. No matter how many letters I secretly sent her.

With time, I stopped sending them and gave up trying to reach a mother who never once looked in my direction. I reached a point where I was content with having Alicia. She was the only mother figure I ever had.

There was never a day where Alicia pulled away from me. If anything, she’s the one who showered me with affection and love.

Mum died when I was five and Alicia was nineteen. Dad told me we weren’t allowed to attend the funeral.

I cried that day, not because of Mum, but because of the pain Alicia was going through on her own.

That same day, Alicia came to me and hugged me to sleep as we cried together. It was the first and last time Alicia spent the night with me.

She took me to London twice after that. First, to say goodbye to Mum’s grave, and again, on her wedding day.

That second time, she came to my school and picked me up. She bought me ice cream and a beautiful tulle dress with ribbons and lace.

After I attended her wedding, Dad came to London and fought with her.

I listened to their exchange from my position behind Dad’s truck. When he drove me away, Alicia was crying.

I wanted to cry, too, because I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted to stay with her and her new husband who looked like a god.

Alicia never tried to take me to London again. She came to visit me in Leeds, either weekly or bi-weekly, and we spent time together. Then she would leave at the end of the day and that was it.

Alicia never complied with our mother’s will or stayed away, so what did she mean by telling me that?

Was it because of Dad?

Did Mum already know what type of monster Dad actually was?

But she couldn’t have. They met a long time ago. Before he started killing…or was it after he started?

My head hurts just thinking about it. I won’t get caught up in that loop.

Because judging by the way things are heading, it seems like Dad has something to do with it. To know more, I’ll have to ask him, and that means seeing him.

The thought brings a sour taste to my mouth.

I don’t want to meet that devil until the day I die. The moment he sees me, he’ll kill and bury me in the grave he dug up that no bodies were found in.

My phone vibrates and I startle out of my trance. I expect it to be Layla since we had plans to go over the new accountant report together. We’ve become stricter about that since the last accountant’s backstabbing.

It’s not my best friend, though. It’s Jonathan.

I swallow. He rarely calls. If ever. He’s the type who likes to lash out orders in person or via email.

Clearing my throat, I answer.

“You’re late.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Late, Aurora,” he repeats. “Are you craving some punishment tonight?”

I hate how my legs snap together at the promise. He’s turned me into a nymphomaniac, I swear.

“What have I done?” I ask.

“Do you or do you not recall that we have a family dinner tonight?”

“Oh.”

“Right. Oh. I expect you to be here in ten.” He pauses. “And don’t wear red lipstick. I don’t want the two punks to see you that way.”

I smile despite myself. The subtle way Jonathan shows possessiveness always brings me a sense of power.

He shows it sometimes when I bicker with Harris and make fun of his snobby expressionless face. Jonathan usually shuts him down like a toddler. Doesn’t mean his right-hand man stops trying to prove to me that he can smile. He can’t.

My good mood disappears as the reality of what awaits me sneaks up on me out of nowhere.

Family dinner.

Jonathan decided we’d have dinner with Aiden, Levi, and their wives. I know it’s his way of keeping me from going to Ethan’s house or having any meals with him, but that doesn’t deny the reality of what I’ll have to face.

Family.

It’s not mine, but it’s still…family. Jonathan’s, to be more specific.

And from what I’ve heard, both his son and nephew are replicas of him — cold, ruthless, and calculating.

Aiden hasn’t even spoken to me since that day he threatened me to leave. I haven’t had any interaction with Levi, although I heard Margot mention to Tom that he sometimes visits during the day when neither Jonathan nor I are in the house.

If I can handle the older King, surely I can take on the other two, right?

Supposing I’m even ‘handling’ Jonathan. If anything, it’s the other way around.

It’s like I’m in a loop, the moment I think I see a way out, it resets to the beginning.

And now, I have to sit at a table with two mini versions of him who don’t like me at all.

How much worse could this be?

29

Aurora

I’m late.

I could blame it on the suffocating traffic, but I don’t. I needed the extra minutes to come to terms with what I’m about to do.

Not that it helps.

By the time I push the dining room doors open, everyone is seated at the table.

Every. Single. One.

And all their attention shifts to me.

My skin prickles at being forced under the spotlight. Ever since the public show I went through during Dad’s trial, attention has become my most loathsome enemy. I did everything not to be the centre of it by staying in the shadows.

Apparently, I wasn’t doing a good enough job, considering that Jonathan found me.

The focus in this room isn’t like the one I received eleven years ago. The people present here don’t want to mutilate me and hang my head on a stick. However, the energy isn’t welcoming either.

Jonathan is at the head of the table, as usual. His pressed black suit moulds to his muscles like a second skin. I swear the tyrant only likes to wear black, like his heart. I hate how much it suits him and brings out the darkness of his grey eyes and the sharp lines of his jaw.

His lean, masculine fingers form a steeple at his chin as he leans forward, both elbows on the table. Those fingers were inside me just this morning when he brought me to orgasm to prepare me for the size of his cock and then —

I force myself to avert my gaze from him so I can focus on the others. Aiden sits on his right, watching me with that calculative streak he inherited from his father.