Page 7 of Endgame

The staff here doesn’t give a damn about me either.

My only hope is my parents’ rich asshole friends, the secret group they call Royalty. They’ve seen me about a dozen times in my life. Though it’s not much, they’d notice if I suddenly stopped showing up to the mandatory once-a-year meeting.

The one my parents make me go to prove that I’m alive.

The other families’ kids are there all the time, attending the bi-monthly meetings everyone’s obligated to. At least, that’s what I overheard Mom say.

It’s not like I’d ever know it from talking to them.

Other than common courtesy, I’m not allowed to talk to anyone from the other three families.

But I do know a little about them. That information, too, I’ve gathered from overhearing my parents.

There are the Bernards, who own one of the largest media conglomerates in the country. The Hales, who run a PR firm thatspins for celebrities, politicians, and billionaires, keeping their secrets close, and using them as leverage when the time is right.

And the Alders. Or really, the Alder.

Everett Alder. Hot. Silent. Impossible to read. He stepped down from one of the most powerful law firms in the country—the same firm that’s been representing me since I started getting arrested—to become a judge at thirty-two.

So, no, I don’t see him when I go over there.

When I do catch a glimpse of him at the Royalty meetings, I can’t help myself. I stalk him. The man with the most gorgeous thick brown hair that’s cut short on the sides, longer on top, barely speaks to anyone besides Stafford Hale.

The rest of us get nothing but scowls. His gray eyes are cold. Cruel. I like how sharp he seems.

A ripple of nerves runs through me when his intense gaze lands on me.

He terrifies me and turns me on simultaneously.

I wish…sigh. Wishing is pointless.

Mom and Dad will always make sure that I’m back here, no matter what. They smooth it over. Quiet it down. When their bribes work on the police, the store owners, the courts, I’m out before sunrise.

They failed twice. Only twice have I been found guilty and sentenced to serve time in prison.

Maybe this time, they’ll fail too. Or I’ll be back here. In this hell.

You know what? Fuck it.

I shake off every depressing thought and force a smile, one that feels more like a grimace. Then I look out the window at the sprawling lawns outside my bedroom. The gardens are perfectly manicured. The skies are clear and a gorgeous shade of blue.

Unlike my parents’ faces, which must be crimson red while they wait for me outside. The color of hate that they wear so well, especially on court days.

I hate them just as much.

Ugh. Please, God, if you’re up there, let me lose this case today. Let them sentence me to a few days inside, or even a couple of months. Anything other than being here.

“Aurora Coraline Clarke,” my mother screams.

I slap a hand over my mouth before she hears me gasp, scolding myself for the knee-jerk reaction.

She jiggles my door’s handle, huffing exasperatedly to find it locked. “You better be ready in ten, or else.”

Fuck her and her tyranny. My time here might be limited, but if all I’ve got is this last chance to piss her off, I’ll take it.

Let her feel a fraction of the pain she’s caused me. All those days in the basement. Of being seconds from losing my mind.

She’s earned this little rebellion. Without telling her I’ve been ready for the past hour, I walk over to the full-body mirror on the other side of my bedroom, passing my antique sofa on my ridiculous black heels.