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SLOANE

Sixteen Years Old

The bedroom door opened, and I didn’t bother to glance up. I was tired. Tired of moving from house to house. Tired of keeping my things in a plastic sack because no one had bothered to buy me a suitcase after my duffel bag had been stolen at my first foster home. Tired of being treated like I was a burden.

I was tired of lingering stares and unwanted touches and never getting enough to eat because my foster parents didn’t want to spend their government funds on food for us when they could spend it on themselves.

I was tired.

So very tired.

At this point, I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been.

A throat cleared, and I reluctantly dragged my attention from the hole in my last pair of black leggings to the door where my social worker, Katherine, was standing with a beaming smile on her face.

That was different.

With all the moves since she’d dropped me at that first disastrous foster home, her ability to fake a grin had faded. Until all I’d been met with was exasperated sighs and disappointing glares.

Until now, evidently.

“I have brilliant news for you,” she gushed, clapping her hands together in a show of excitement that had me raising an eyebrow because I hadn’t known brilliant was in her vocabulary. “Come with me!”

I reluctantly slid off the bed, picking up my things off the floor. The contents of this grocery sack were all I had in the world. I couldn’t risk leaving it for even a moment.

Following her out the door and down the hall, I listened to the worn sound of the Beckers’ wooden floor creaking beneath my feet.

This house sucked. But then again…all my foster homes had sucked.

And so had the tiny apartment I’d lived in with my mother before that.

I wasn’t going to think about that place, though.

I wasn’t going to think about where and how she’d died, in an apartment that had smelled like throw-up and medication.

Don’t think about that .

We made it into the living room, and I glanced around, surprised that there wasn’t any sign of the Beckers in here. There was usually one of them around. They were like cockroaches, one springing up every time you thought they were gone. It wasn’t until Katherine nodded her head at the sagging, faded couch that I realized someone else was in the room with us at all.

Everett.

I fell back a step in shock, my eyes widening as I stared in disbelief at the sight of my mother’s brother—my uncle, I guess. I’d only met him a few times, but every meeting had been memorable. Everett had money, a lot more money than my mom and me, and he’d always treated me to ice cream and fancy toys when he’d come around. I’d lived for those visits, treasuring everything he’d bought me like a dragon hoarding its gold.

I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. And yet here he was.

Everett was lounging on the couch like he owned the place, even though it was obvious that he didn’t belong there. Tall, broad shoulders filled a fancy-looking suit, and his black hair was combed back in a way that screamed rich guy. His skin had that kind of golden tan that people got when they spent their time on golf courses, not working under the sun.

I fidgeted nervously as he stared, wishing I was wearing something nicer. I could only imagine what he saw. A scroungy sixteen-year-old still growing into her features. I looked like the orphan that I was, with the paper supply-logoed sweatshirt that someone had dropped off to Goodwill and my holey, worn leggings. I belonged in this run-down house.

Everett did not.

“Sloane?” His voice was deep and smooth, with a faint trace of a drawl.

For some reason, a beam of hope suddenly made an appearance in my chest, like the first rays of light as the sun peeked out from the horizon. His voice didn’t sound like he was disgusted by the sight of me or that he was annoyed that he was here…I mean you couldn’t tell that much from someone saying your name, but still…

I blinked, still staring at him like he was some kind of mirage. With everything that had happened, I’d sort of…forgotten about him. Katherine had never asked if I had any relatives, so I guess I’d just assumed anyone related to me was dead or didn’t want me.

After all, why would someone like him want someone like me ?

“Sloane,” he repeated, rising from the couch, his light brown eyes studying me. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’ve been out of the country for the past year, and I didn’t hear of your mother’s passing until I returned.”

I remained silent as I took him in, my hands trembling at my sides. Everett walked toward me, slowly, like he thought I was a flight risk that would bolt for the hills with any sudden movement.

“I’m so sorry about your mother, Sloane. I can’t even imagine what that was like, caring for her while she had cancer. And with you being all alone. If I’d known…”

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked, cutting his excuses off. The words came out hoarse, like I’d been silent for years and was just now speaking for the first time.

“Sloane,” Katherine chided, sounding shocked for whatever reason.

Everett held up a hand, shaking his head. “I deserve whatever she wants to give me. I left her there, knowing her mother was…wasn’t all right.”

“It was the pills that actually killed her. Not the cancer. Did they tell you that?” I murmured.

He stared at me with pity, and I hated that. I didn’t want pity. I wanted…I didn’t know what I wanted, actually.

But I didn't want that.

“Your uncle’s come to get you, Sloane,” Katherine said, still sounding miffed. “He’s agreed to become your guardian. All the paperwork has been done.”

I blinked at the news, the spark in my chest growing. Even confused that he’d been nowhere to be found these past years, I had good memories with him, little glimmers of happiness in the murky gray of my childhood.

Honestly, though, even if he’d been a grumpy man who’d yelled at me for laughing too loudly or running down the halls…he’d be better than what I’d experienced this past year.

And then there was the fact that his eyes were the same as my mom’s. Staring into them felt a little like…staring into hers.

“You are?” I whispered after a moment, afraid that any second now I was going to wake up under my threadbare sheet, and this was all going to be a dream. I studied him closer, willing this to be happening, noticing how truly nice his suit was and the fact that the gold watch on his wrist had diamonds all around its face. Everett had always had money, but it seemed like he might have gotten even richer since the last time I’d seen him.

“Would that be okay?” he asked, glancing around. His mouth pursed in displeasure as he glared at the water marks on the walls that were probably hiding layers of mold, and the stains on the carpet from the Beckers’ dog that they never cleaned up after.

“Yes,” I said immediately. “I mean—I mean if you’re sure,” I added, trying to tamp down the hope building in my chest.

His face gentled, and a small smile peeked on his handsome face. “Of course, I’m sure. As soon as I heard what had happened, I came straight to get you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The grin that appeared on my face was the first one I’d had in well…years. It felt strange, as if it was a stretch for my features to make that movement anymore.

Everett’s smile grew, and he nodded, like he was pleased with the turn of events. “Why don’t you go get your stuff, and we’ll get out of here.”

I bit down on my lip, staring at my bag as embarrassment flushed through me. “This is all I have,” I said softly, holding up the sack as I tried not to allow my shame to leak out all over my face.

His smile died, and a low growl came from his chest as he turned on Katherine. “Is this how the state treats its wards?” he snapped. “Where’s all the money that’s supposed to be going to them?”

Katherine straightened, pulling on her ill-fitting suit. “Our families are heavily vetted. We leave it to their discretion to buy what the children in their care need?—”

“Does that bag seem like all she needs ? And look at her shoes. Is that—” He glared aghast at my shoe like it had personally offended him. “Is that duct tape holding your shoe together, Sloane?”

I crossed my foot behind my other leg like I could hide it, a blush creeping across my cheeks even though it wasn’t my fault.

“The court’s order has gone through?” Everett snapped, his eyes heavy with disdain as he looked at Katherine.

She seemed alarmed by how the visit was suddenly going, a tic in her cheek and her eyes wide as she anxiously pulled on her suit coat again. Katherine slowly nodded.

“Sloane, go wait by the door,” Everett ordered through gritted teeth, and I hustled down the hall and around the corner to the front door as he began to tear Katherine a new one.

The spark in my chest had grown into a forest fire, spreading across my veins and leaving me tingling.

I had to get out the door first, and even then, I didn’t know how long it would take for me to believe that I was getting out of this hellhole.

But this…this was a start.

A few minutes later Everett appeared, his features completely calm like nothing had happened. I heard the faint sound of sniffling, but I didn’t have it in me to feel that bad for Katherine. Each family she’d placed me with had grown progressively worse, and I’d begun to suspect two houses ago that she was intentionally doing it.

“Shall we go?” he asked pleasantly, no sign of the vicious barbs I’d heard him leveling at my social worker.

“Yep,” I told him, and he grinned, gesturing for me to walk through the door first.

I made a note to myself as he ushered me through the front door, though…my uncle had a temper.

There was a light rain drizzling down, which seemed like a good omen. There had been sun for the first time in two months on the day of my mother’s funeral. It had felt fake…wrong…like all the mourners there, who had never actually known or cared about my mother, or for me. Rain today felt right.

A gray-haired man in a fitted suit with a severe-looking face and cold eyes appeared on the sidewalk in front of us, and I jumped, glancing at my uncle uneasily. The man undid a large umbrella and hurried toward us.

I stared at him wide-eyed as he lifted the umbrella over my and my uncle’s heads. How rich was Everett? I’d thought he was well-off when he drove a Camry and could afford to take my mom and me out to dinner.

This was on a whole other level.

The man stayed by our side for the whole walk to the shiny black vehicle parked at the curb, opening the back door so we could get in.

Sliding into the seat of my uncle’s car felt like stepping into another world—one I had no business being in. The soft leather of the seat hugged me as I settled into it, no doubt costing more than everything I’d ever owned. The air inside smelled like something sharp and expensive, like leather and faint cologne, nothing at all like the old mix of sweat and desperation…and cats I was used to.

I ran my fingers along the armrest, feeling the smooth stitching beneath my fingertips.

“You like it?” His voice broke through my thoughts, low and smooth, and I realized I was still staring, my fingers tracing the trim like a kid who’d never been inside a car before.

“It’s…nice,” I said, my voice quiet, almost unsure. Nice didn’t seem like the right word, but I couldn’t think of the right words to say.

Everett chuckled, the sound warm. “Someday you’ll be used to all of this. It’s just the beginning, Sloane.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and I didn’t ask. Instead, I let my gaze wander, taking in the details—the perfect stitching on the seats, the way the buttons and dials seemed to glisten under the soft lighting. It was the kind of car driven by people who didn’t have to check price tags or worry about overdue bills.

A silence filled the cab.

“Who was the man with the umbrella?” I finally asked quietly, fiddling with the hole in my leggings.

“That’s Darwin. He’s my driver and one of my assistants, I suppose,” Everett mused, reclining back in his chair.

There was a partition up between the backseat and the front, and I could only faintly hear the sound of the engine as Darwin started the car and we pulled away from the curb.

“What kind of car is this?” I asked awkwardly, glancing around.

“A Bentley Flying Spur,” he responded calmly as he pulled out his phone and began typing something into it.

I nodded like I knew what he was talking about.

“Business must be doing well,” I continued lamely, immediately wishing that I hadn’t opened my mouth. He was going to tell Darwin to turn the car around or just kick me out right here.

I glanced back, seeing the Beckers’ house fading from view.

“It is,” he answered, putting down his phone and turning his attention to me as I turned back around. “Now, tell me about yourself. What are your hobbies? What are your favorite things?”

I blinked, not expecting such a heavy question right out of the gate.

“Water?” he asked when I hadn’t gotten an answer out after several awkward seconds. I nodded, and he opened up the seat between us, pulling a bottle out of a chilled compartment.

“Thank you,” I said, immediately undoing the cap and taking a swallow. I’d been hiding out in my room as much as possible since I’d gotten to the Beckers’, and that meant I hadn’t been drinking…or eating very much lately. Not that there had been much food to begin with.

Mmm. Rich-people water tasted good.

“I don’t know what I like anymore,” I finally said after I’d finished half the bottle, and he was still eyeing me expectantly.

It was the truth. The last few years had been horrible and lonely, and I was scared to get my hopes up that this would be any better.

“We’re going to change that,” he said with a smile. “Hungry?” Everett had pulled out a bag of chips from some other compartment, and I stared longingly at it, trying not to drool.

“Yes,” I whispered, unable to keep the eagerness out of my voice as I took the chips and carefully opened them like they were gold.

My uncle pretended not to notice how I gobbled them up like a deranged monster.

“Where do you live?” I asked after I finished and had leaned my head tiredly against the glass.

“Dallas,” he muttered as he typed something on his phone. My mouth dropped and I sat up, gaping at him. I’d never been out of Washington.

“We’ll get you all set up with school and new clothes and whatever else you need. It’s going to be great,” he continued distractedly, still staring at his phone and seemingly completely unaware of the fact that I was melting into my seat in shock.

I’d recovered somewhat by the time he finally put his phone down. After all, what was the alternative to moving to Dallas, keep living in shitty foster homes until I aged out and ended up on the streets?

I’d take my chances in Texas.

He patted my knee before reaching down and grabbing a fancy-looking black box. “Chocolates? They’re the best money can buy.”

The gold lettering on the lid gleamed under the dim light of the car, and I hesitated when Everett set it on my lap.

“Go on,” he said, his voice smooth, like he was offering me more than chocolate. “Try one.”

I swallowed hard and lifted the lid. Inside, rows of perfect little chocolates lay nestled in golden paper, each one a tiny masterpiece. I had no idea which to pick; they all looked like they belonged in a museum.

Timidly, I reached for one, a dark chocolate square with an elegant swirl on top. My fingers brushed the delicate surface, and for a second, I almost put it back. But I could feel his eyes on me, waiting.

The chocolate melted the second it hit my tongue, rich, velvety sweetness exploding in my mouth. My eyes widened in surprise. It was perfect—smooth and decadent, with layers that I couldn’t even name but felt like magic.

“Well?” my uncle prompted, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s…” I searched for the right word, still savoring the lingering taste. “It’s amazing.”

I grabbed another chocolate and then, at his urging, a few more.

And as we drove into the airport, where the sleek lines of his private plane gleamed under the floodlights, it felt like I’d stepped into a dreamworld. The soft hum of the car, the promise of a better life whispering in every luxurious detail, wrapped around me like a warm cocoon. Maybe this was it. Maybe all the bad things I’d endured—the nights of fear, the years of nothingness—had led to this moment.

But as the plane’s engines roared to life, a tiny voice whispered in the back of my mind, sharp and uneasy: Dreams don’t come without a price .