Mad Love (Slateview High 3)

I would marry Barrett King in the summer after my graduation, and Dad would gain access to Sebastian King’s vast network of money, power, and connections. My father insisted it was for the good of our entire family and told me over and over again that it was my duty. My part to play in our family’s recovery.

Duty.

It was a word I had come to hate.

It was a word I’d been raised on, one I’d heard over and over again as a little girl. I’d been given everything I could ever want, but in some ways, none of it was mine. Because it all came at a price.

And it was one I was no longer sure I was willing to pay.

Before my dark thoughts could spiral any lower, there was a soft knock on the door.

Turning to look over my shoulder, I called out, “Come in.”

I wished like hell it would be Ava, the sweet woman who’d been part of our house staff before Dad’s arrest. But my parents hadn’t hired her back, even though they’d replaced most of the staff they’d lost when the Feds had come for Dad. I wasn’t sure why, and Dad would never tell me.

Had Ava refused to come back? Had she gotten another position that she liked better?

It broke my heart to think that, but I could hardly blame her for wanting to stay far away from this house. I wished I could join her in fleeing, honestly.

The door opened slowly, and as it did, I realized it wasn’t one of the house staff at all.

It was Mom.

My body tensed instantly, my back straightening as my jaw clenched. I didn’t want to see her. Especially not right now.

It’d been less than a week since my father had informed me I was to marry Barrett King, and my engagement party was already set for this evening.

Of course, I was no longer naive enough to believe the party had anything to do with me. It was a chance for my mother and father to show off their new connections to all their wealthy friends, to prove that they were worthy of being in the circle of elites once more.

It was a show, just like everything else about this life.

“Cordelia, dear.” Mom smiled, but it looked forced. “You should be getting ready. We’ll need you downstairs in an hour. I know you said you don’t feel comfortable having one of the servants help you anymore, but please let me send Poppy up. I have your outfit chosen and ready, and she can help you with your hair and makeup. You need to look your best.”

I didn’t make a move to start dressing. I just stared at her. The other thing that hurt almost as much as my father’s decision to marry me off was the fact that my Mom had made absolutely no effort to stop it from happening. I had hoped that maybe she would understand. After all, she’d been there with me in the tiny house we had rented on the other side of Baltimore. She had lived that life with me—although unlike me, she had never found a way to make the best of it. She’d never made any kind of peace with it or found the beauty and joy in the ugliness.

All she’d done was sleep with Mark Jemison, a man she once would’ve considered too far beneath her to even speak to, in order to get back small scraps of what she’d lost.

“Cordelia, are you listening?”

Annoyance sounded in Mom’s tone now, and she crossed to my closet, pulling out the dress she’d had made specifically for this event. It was beautiful, there was no denying that. But I had no desire to wear it.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked finally, my voice a soft rasp.

My mother looked up from her examination of the ornately detailed bodice of the dress. “I told you. You need to be ready in an hour. Less than that now.”

“No.” I slid the chair back and rose to my feet, my voice gaining strength. “Why are you doing this? Why are you letting Dad force me into a marriage you know I don’t want? Why aren’t you fighting for me? Helping me?”

The words came out in a rush. They’d been locked in my chest ever since Dad had told her of the arrangement, just a short while after he’d told me about it.

Mom’s lips pursed. She drew in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, then turned back to the closet and hung the dress up before facing me again.

“I am helping you, dear. You might not realize it yet, but this is for the best. This marriage to Barrett won’t just secure our future, but yours as well. You’ll never want for anything in your life.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

There was a roughness to my voice now, as emotions I’d tried to keep contained for the past several days bubbled up to the surface like hot oil. My heart was a cracked and crumbling lump of clay in my chest, and I hadn’t been able to bring myself to tell the Lost Boys any of this yet. I didn’t know how to tell them, what to say, so I’d barely spoken to them at all since Dad had laid down his order.

And it was fucking killing me.