Page 8 of Endgame

“Aurora!”

“I’ll be there.” My teeth knock together. I won’t let her hear it in my voice.

“As in now.”

“Go to hell,” I whisper, and turn to the mirror where I focus on my reflection and not that witch.

My chocolate-brown hair is twisted into a bun at my nape.

My makeup is minimalistic yet immaculate. Nothing more than thick mascara to frame my light blue eyes and a neutral lipstick to match my cream-colored skirt suit.

Mom bangs on the door. “You’re taking too long!”

“Says who?” I taunt her, forcing a grin onto my face.

I’m not to blame for this. For losing my mind. For trying to get back at my parents every chance I get.

It’s their fault. They’re the reason I’m like this.

They made me this way. My criminal track record—the reason every wealthy, influential man turns them down—is all because they forced my hand.

Not that I’d ever let them marry me off, no matter how much I hear them conspiring about it around the house. I’d slit my parents’ throats and the groom’s before anyone ever puts a ring on me.

I fucking dare them.

I might’ve been reduced to a shadow of a woman who rarely fights and talks back, but enough is enough.

Even if it means marrying some stranger is my ticket out of here, I won’t bend over backwards just so they’ll be happy.

Besides, there’s no doubt, whomever they choose for me, will be just as sadistic, as evil as they are.

He definitely won’t be the man I dream about late at night.

“Says me.” My dad, Winston, tries the handle as well. His blue eyes, which remind me of mine, must be boring holes into the door. “Let’s get this over with already. I have meetings to attend, business to run. My world doesn’t revolve around you, Aurora.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I whisper.

I wish he’d forgotten I existed altogether. That he’d let me out of this mansion.

I would’ve gone to college. I would’ve gotten a job.

Or I would’ve done neither.

It should be my choice. It isn’t.

From the day my mother left me on this couple’s doorstep with nothing but a thank you note, I’ve never had a single choice. None.

The rideto the courthouse was uneventful, primarily thanks to my parents’ absence.

Turns out, my guardian angel decided to show up for once.

Mom’s aunt tripped down the stairs and was rushed to the hospital.

Since appearances are the only thing that matter to Winston and Molly, they took another car to visit her there.

I should probably feel bad, and yet all I can muster is relief.

Without them looming over every word and breath, I feel a sliver more human, sitting here, in this bench trial, next to one of the most expensive defense attorneys in the country, Larry Nelson.