Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

On one major news outlet, there was a picture of me, blown up in my maid’s uniform, sandwiched between West and Grayson. It was a bad picture, blurry, and I was frowning. In the corner, there was a picture of Lottie in her wedding dress.

I flipped through the slides, finding the story. There were even more pictures, current ones, taken at Crowne Hall. I blinked, stunned, when I saw ones taken of Grayson and me in the kitchen right before I went to the hospital.

The servants.

I used to wonder what it would be like to be them, the women dressed in white, to be seen. It turns out I am no less a ghost. I’m talked about. I’m on every search engine. But no one sees me. If anything…I’m more ghostly now.

Story Hale.

Everyone has a conclusion about me but no one knows me.

I found West’s eyes in dismay. “I thought the plan was to get out ahead of it?”

“These aren’t my publications. You’re my wife, Story. I wouldn’t let them print that.” He closed the website and went to a du Lac publication.

The Real Fairy Tale of the Cinderella of Crowne Hall

“In a few weeks, no one will remember this.”

“A few weeks,” I repeated.

He smiled at me, then stood up. “You have a date with the Crowne women today. That’s all anyone will talk about.”

It was starting to feel like quicksand. The harder I fought to get out of this world, the deeper I sank.

GRAY

* * *

My grandfather was standing by the window when I came in, and that should have been my first warning that something was off.

When he heard me, he didn’t turn around to speak.

“I’m surprised you even came in today. I guess I…misunderstood your level of affection for her.”

At the mention of Story, my muscles tightened, but I played it cool. I came to his side, putting my foot up against the window he had someone wash twice daily.

“Or maybe you haven’t heard?” He tilted his head, one peppered brow raised at his desk. The grandfather clock in his office timed the seconds of our chess match in a slow, burning tick-tock.

Eventually, after the minute hand ticked for a second time, I got off the window and went to see what the hell had him looking like a cat with a canary.

The STORY of How the Slutty Stepsister Stole Cinderella’s Spot.

What the hell had Snitch gotten herself into that she was already on the cover of some magazine, and how the fuck had I missed it? I got all the papers delivered before they released.

I pushed the magazine along Grandpa’s glossy desk, swallowing my rage.

This wasn’t a hit piece.

It was an assassination.

“Are you wondering how you missed it?” Grandpa asked coolly.

I dragged my thumb across the top of my bottom teeth, refusing to answer. By my grandfather’s slow smile, I could tell my mask had slipped a little.

Fuck.

“You couldn’t bargain your secrets this time, Grayson. It’s a new print. A du Lac and Crowne joint venture.”