The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

“Oh, my God,” I snapped. “That’s such bullshit.”

She scowled. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m your mother.”

I snatched up one of the bills before me, tearing open the envelope as I spoke. “Except I’m the only one with any responsibility around here. What are you thinking? You can’t just ignore this and believe it’s going to go away.” Tears of anger burned my eyes, making my vision bleary and the credit card statement I’d opened hard to read.

“We’re not ignoring it, we just need a little more time.”

“Time for what? For Macalister to write me a five-million-dollar check?”

It looked like I’d kicked her in the stomach, but it was hard to feel much sympathy for her right now. My anger burned so hot inside me, it consumed all other emotion. I stared at the charges printed on the paper and my focus zeroed in on the date.

“What the fuck is this?” I jammed the statement at her, my finger on the line pointing it out. “You spent four thousand dollars at Chanel last week?”

A range of emotions played out on her face. Surprise, followed by guilt, and then defensiveness.

“You don’t know what it’s like!” Tears spilled down her face. “It’s so overwhelming. I feel awful all the time, Marist. I’m miserable every second of every day, and I just . . .” She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “I needed some relief, all right? I saw the bag, and I just wanted to be happy for two seconds. I needed an escape. I’m sorry.”

I swung away, unable to look at her, but there was no escape for me. The Etonsons crest was on one of the letters in the pile. It was far too late to apply for a student loan, and who would give me one, anyway? My family was supposed to be American royalty with coffers full of money.

“I’ll take the bag back,” she mumbled.

Like that would solve anything. My mother had lived her whole life as an entitled and privileged woman. Her behavior would never change.

I said nothing to her. I simply stared at my family’s financial ruin and tried not to cry. In five days, I would be armed with Hale resources and this would be a mountain I could climb. My silence drove my mother away, and I was grateful she wasn’t near. I assumed she went to her room to feel sorry for herself some more, rather than do anything about her situation.

I pulled down the ignored bills and notices, flinging them to the floor until they were a puddle of debt at my feet. I dropped down beside it, my back against the lower cabinets, and began to open each one.

Some time later, Emily found me there, neat piles sorted by priority gathered around me. She barely blinked at how I was sitting on the floor of the kitchen or what I was doing. It wasn’t all that surprising. My parents had passed on the avoider gene to her. She’d put the pregnancy test off for weeks so she wouldn’t have to face reality.

As she slid down the cabinets to sit beside me, I sighed. I was still upset with her about what she’d kept from me. She was supposed to be my best friend. Did she feel like she couldn’t trust me? That I’d judge her? It hurt.

But this wasn’t the time to talk through our issues. Couldn’t she see that? I was frayed and raw, and there were bigger things to worry about than my feelings.

“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks,” she said. “And I’ve been avoiding this too, but we have to talk.”

“I know, but not now, Em.” I scanned the papers surrounding us. “Just let me get through this weekend, and then everything’s going to get better.”

“No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t have let this go on as long as it has. I should have told you weeks ago.” She grabbed my arm to let me know she was serious. My breath cut off as her expression turned to desperation. “You can’t marry Royce.”

My pulse slowed to a crawl. Hyperawareness tingled across my skin, warning me something big was coming. Oh, God. Was this where she told me she was secretly in love with him?

My voice wavered. “Why’s that?”

“Because for him to join the board?” Her hand squeezed so hard it was uncomfortable. “He has to fuck you in front of them.”

THIRTEEN

INCREDULOUS LAUGHTER WELLED UP and erupted from my throat. Emily’s joke was so ridiculous it wasn’t even that funny, but I needed the stress relief, and it felt good to let it out.

My sister didn’t laugh with me. Her eyes were full of fear, and—damn—she was really selling the joke.

“Stop it,” I said. “Where’d you even come up with that?”

“Marist, I’m serious.” She frowned, trying to assemble convincing words. “I thought it was like an urban legend too when I heard it. You know people talk all sorts of shit about the Hales. But this? It’s true.”