Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

Her mouth parted, and I clasped her hand, dragging her with me. Her laugh echoed as she gripped my shoulder.

“Are we really going to leave?” she whispered.

“Yeah—”

My mother stepped in front of us with a hiss. “Keep smiling.”

Naturally our smiles wavered.

“I said, Keep smiling.”

She shoved a phone between our chests. It was a shaky video, half the image obscured by something…flowers. White roses. Beyond them an obscene dance took place. A man’s naked ass, a woman groping him.

It was me. Me with Snitch, just hours before. Luckily there was no sound. They would have heard the words that were seared into my mind.

I love you, Story Hale. I’ll never stop loving you, Story Hale.

“It’s clear it’s a maid,” my mother said, pulling the phone back. “They don’t know which maid. But it’s clear it’s a maid. On your wedding night.” Her nostrils flared.

Lottie dropped her grip from my shoulder, and our hands separated.

“How many people have seen it?” I asked, voice rough.

“Just—” My mother held up her finger. “I’m going to fix it. So far it’s only on small forums. It hasn’t hit any major news. I’ll fix it—we’ll fix it. This should go without saying, but don’t do anything that would draw attention to this. Go mingle or go dance and smile.” She shot a pointed look in Lottie’s direction.

Mother walked away to presumably bribe some web hosts.

A spiny silence crept up in her wake. Lottie rubbed one arm, eyes on the floor.

A thousand words ran through my head, something to rewind the time, all of them useless.

“Lottie, believe me, I had no idea someone was filming.”

“I think this is the worst day of my life,” she whispered.

“Lottie—”

She picked up her dress, walking swiftly across the ballroom.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Who filmed that? How had we not seen? It wasn’t exactly private back there…fuck. I needed out of this facade, even if for only a minute. I headed past the bastard table minus the bastards who couldn’t be fucked to attend. I’m sure my mother would rip my ear off about that later. Past people I’d never met in my life, who I’m sure were only here so Mother or Grandfather could use this invite as a way to manipulate their interests. Past friends who didn’t give a single shit about me.

In this world, those are friends.

Snitch was in my head, in my blood. Every step I took, she swirled like a shimmering ghost around me, her wide as walnut eyes following me. I couldn’t reach the columns fast enough. I pulled a joint from my inner suit pocket, lighting it quickly and taking a long drag, trying to banish her.

Mother really wanted the world to believe we were perfect. The ballroom was covered in white roses. Morbidly fitting, white roses were the symbol of both weddings and death. The goodie bags—sponsored by designers and including boutique tech, streetwear, items you couldn’t get anywhere save this wedding—were already trending.

I couldn’t wait to see that shit pop up on eBay.

Everyone here was smiling, laughing, enjoying the couple of the century’s wedding of the century.

I’m the only one you don’t have fooled, Grayson.

I inhaled smooth smoke, staring out windows lining the ballroom at stars piercing the velvet sky. This party would last all goddamn night. Another inhale, and a rocky, jagged exhale.