Queen of Hawthorne Prep

“It’s really good.” Once she finishes half the bowl, she sets the ceramic dish on the nightstand and takes a drink from her bottle of water. “I don’t know what I would do without you and your brother.”

“That’s not something you have to worry about,” I reassure her. “We’re not going anywhere.”

I chew my lower lip as indecision flickers through me. I don’t want to send her rocketing back to the bottom of the pill bottle, but I can’t keep her in the dark much longer. She needs to know what’s going on.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” I say hesitantly, trying to gauge whether I’m making the right call.

“What is it?” Her body stills as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. I can’t exactly blame her for that. It’s been a shit week.

Much like ripping off a Band-Aid, it’s probably best to get it over with quickly.

“Keaton sent over the original contract that you and Dad signed last night, along with a new one.” When she remains silent, I continue. “Unless Dad found a way out of it, there’s nothing we can do. We have to hold up our end of the deal or he’ll sue us and take Hawthorne Industries.”

She releases a pent-up breath from her lungs before admitting, “The lawyer he hired thought we had a fifty-fifty chance at getting Grandma Rose’s affidavit thrown out.”

My shoulders collapse as I digest that bit of information. “Then there’s no way out of this situation.” It’s not a question. More like a death sentence.

“I’m not sure.” She shakes her head before dragging a hand through her disheveled hair. “I don’t think so.”

The emotional dam held precariously in place breaks as all of my hope disappears. “One condition of the new contract is that I live at the Rothchild Mansion.”

“What? No!” The bit of color filling her cheeks drains away. “He can’t do that!”

A gurgle of laughter bursts from my lips. “Well, he did. Keaton threatened to sue us if I wasn’t at his doorstep by nine o’clock last night, so I packed my bags and went over.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispers in a strangled voice as a look of despair fills her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

It takes everything I have inside not to scream out my frustration. I’m eighteen years old, I need my mother to pull her shit together and figure this out. These aren’t problems I should have to tackle on my own.

When she remains silent, I say in a voice devoid of emotion, “You need to get ahold of Dad’s lawyer and make sure there’s nothing else that can be done.” Even though it hurts to push the rest out, there’s no longer a choice. “Dad is gone, and you need to take care of this.”

She squeezes her eyes together as a lone tear treks down her cheek. When she finally opens them, she looks more in control. There are flickers of the woman she once was, fighting to break through the impenetrable wall of grief. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

A sigh of relief escapes as I cling to the tiny shred of hope she has given me.

I’m surprised when she asks, “Are you all right over there?” Worry flickers across her face, making the tiny lines bracketing her mouth more pronounced. “Has he…hurt you?”

Unwilling to reveal the truth, I shake my head and smooth out my features. The less she knows, the better. “I’m fine. There’s a housekeeper who showed me around last night.” Kind of. “And I never saw Keaton.”

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said of Kingsley.

Her shoulders loosen as she sucks her lower lip into her mouth before chewing it. “I’ll get you out of this, Summer.” Resolve fills her voice, strengthening it. “I promise.”

I nod, relieved that I won’t be left to molder away at the Rothchild estate. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that your dad and I ever agreed to the terms.” She swipes at another tear with the back of her hand. “I don’t know what we were thinking.”

I glance away, not wanting her to see the bitterness that fills my expression. I’ve often wondered the same thing. Before Dad passed away, all I had wanted was a choice over my future. My feelings for Kingsley were never in question. It had more to do with our relationship being forever tied to the company and family history.

Now it’s an entirely different story. If she doesn’t find a loophole out of this nonsense, I could spend the rest of my life with a man who despises me.

The thought is almost enough to bring me to my knees.

Chapter Twenty-One

The entire time I’m with Mom, I keep a careful eye on the clock, knowing I need to haul ass next door before Kingsley arrives home from practice. If not, there will be hell to pay. And I’d rather not deal with him anymore than necessary. With precisely sixty seconds to spare before the clock strikes six, I slip through the front door of Rothchild Mansion. From somewhere deep inside the bowels of the house, a grandfather clock strikes six times. As I fly to the staircase, prepared to hide out in my room for the rest of the evening, I spot Keaton watching me from midway up the stairs and stumble to a halt.