Page 21 of Bound in Debt

My mother isn’t the kind of woman to value her daughter’s independence. She wanted to mold me in her image, to be dependent on a man to care for me, to put aside my own desires and support him in his goals. I was supposed to devote my life to being pretty, kind, and submissive to my mother and my husband—likely in that order.

My father has never bothered to share his opinion on such things.

He’s always left anything to do with me up to my mother. He’s never once disagreed with how she speaks to me or how she treats me. I’m her problem. Maybe if I’d been born a boy, things would have been different.

“There you are,” a feminine voice coos. I snap my focus to Marissa as she saunters over in a sparkly silver dress that hugs her thin frame, a fake smile plastered on her heavily contoured face.

She hates me.

And she doesn’t seem capable of hiding that fact.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” she says as she reaches Mom and me.

“Why?”

Mom steps forward, thrusting her elbow into my left boob before clasping both of Marissa’s hands tightly. “The party is beautiful. You’ve outdone yourself again.”

Liam’s mother chuckles. “Thank you, Carol. I wanted nothing less than the best for our children on their special night.”

Red flag.

Red flag.

Red! Flag!

“Special night?” I question aloud, causing both women to immediately turn their focus to me. “And what’s the occasion?”

Marissa shoots a glance at my mother who responds with an eyeroll. “Victoria, I swear, if you don’t stop teasing me…”

Her voice is a sharp, thin trill. And I all too easily put the pieces together, why she wanted me dressed to the nines for another of Marissa’s stupid parties.

We’ve been arguing since the start of the summer about one thing.

An engagement to Liam Moretti.

Marissa sends me a weak grin. “We’re so happy to have you, Victoria. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

“Mom,” I hedge. “Can we talk?”

“No time,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Marissa, do you have a gown my daughter can borrow? She lost track of time at the football game and didn’t have a chance to change.”

“Of course.” Marissa extends a hand. “Come with me and I’ll see what we can find that suits.”

Bullshit.

My tits are bigger than hers and they aren’t my only curves. There’s no possible way that I’ll manage to fit into any of her clothing without looking obscene.

Marissa drops her hand when I leave her hanging, moving quickly towards the main stairs. I’ve never been upstairs, but I know the family suites are situated on the third floor. When I hesitate to follow, my mother pokes one sharp fingernail into my spine.

“If you don’t go with her,” she whispers into my ear, “I will pull you from that school tonight. Do you hear me?”

Not bothering to respond, I catch up to Marissa on the stairs. Her home is exquisite. From the polished and dark hardwood floors to the pristine chandeliers hanging overhead, the whole place manages to exude money, elegance, and dignity despite the house’s mistress. Any other girl at Thronewood University might fantasize about marrying into the Moretti family, but I’m certainly not interested.

I absolutely refuse to marry Liam, even if it means leaving school and fending for myself until my trust fund kicks in.

“This way,” Marissa states, leading me to the biggest bedroom I’ve ever seen and gestures to her expansive closet. “Feel free to take whatever you want. When you get downstairs?—”

“I can’t marry your son,” I blurt out. “We’re not together anymore. I’m not sure if he told you?—”