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When we finally pulled through the gates of his drive almost six hours later, I had to blink twice to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. The place wasn’t just big—it was massive. A mansion, like the ones in movies or on TV shows. The house—no, the estate—loomed in front of us, a black structure with clean lines and what seemed like a million windows. It looked like something out of a dream, all modern and cold, with perfectly manicured lawns and a freaking pond out front where I could see koi swimming around.

“Yes, you can feed them,” Everett said, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched me gape at his house.

I grinned sheepishly at him and swallowed hard as the car pulled into the circular drive, dislodging my nose from where I’d had it smashed against the window as I took in the sights. Darwin opened the door for my uncle first, and he climbed out, his black hair catching the last glint of sunlight. Then my door was opened, and Darwin waited for me to step out like this was some kind of grand entrance at a ball. I hesitated for a second, my fingers gripping the handle tight.

When I finally got out of the car, the heat hit me like a wall. The air was thick, suffocating, but it wasn’t just the humidity. It was the place itself, the way it seemed to tower over me like I was something small, something…insignificant.

“You’ll get used to it. Before you know it, this place will feel like the home you’ve always lived in.” His voice was easy as he confidently walked away, flicking his hand for me to follow him. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

The foyer was even more overwhelming than the outside. White marble floors stretched out beneath my feet, gleaming like they’d never seen a speck of dust. The walls were lined with art—huge, abstract pieces that didn’t make any sense to me. There were high ceilings, chandeliers hanging down like frozen waterfalls, and everything was quiet, like the whole house was holding its breath.

I wasn’t sure I liked that.

“You live here all alone?” I muttered, not really meaning for him to hear.

Everett chuckled, but it didn’t sound like real laughter. “You live here now, remember?”

I followed him up a wide staircase, my footsteps echoing as I walked. The house felt like it swallowed sound, like it was waiting for something to happen. My skin prickled, but I shrugged it off.

We went down a long hallway, passing what seemed like a million closed doors until we got to the last one.

Everett grinned, his white teeth glinting under the lights, and then he opened the door with a flourish.

My breath caught in my throat. The room was insane. Like, over-the-top, “pinch me I’m dreaming” insane.

The walls were painted in soft blush pinks, but not in a little-girl way—it was elegant, sophisticated even. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting sparkles of light over the room. There was a plush, oversized bed in the center, piled with pillows in different textures and shades of pink and gold. The headboard was tufted velvet, the kind I’d imagine you’d see in some fancy hotel, not a bedroom for a teenager. Across from the bed was a huge wall-mounted flat-screen TV, and to the side, a vanity filled with designer makeup and perfume bottles that shimmered like little jewels.

I took a step inside, my eyes darting everywhere, not sure where to focus because everything was…incredible.

Everett stood by the door, watching me take it all in with a satisfied smirk. “The bathroom’s over there,” he said, pointing to a door against the wall. “But check the closet first.”

I glanced around, immediately finding the door that was slightly ajar, revealing rows and rows of clothes, all neatly hung, organized by color and style. Skimming my fingers across the soft fabric, my skin caught on a tag. I nearly fainted when I saw the amount of zeros on it. Just this one shirt was probably a hundred times more than the entirety of all the clothes I’d ever owned.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” he said, his voice smooth and confident, because he knew he’d done well.

I couldn’t even find the words to respond. It wasn’t just to my liking—it was beyond anything I’d ever dreamed of. In our crummy apartment I’d been too busy surviving to think about the condition of the four decrepit walls we were living in. And then afterward, in all of those foster homes…I’d just decided that was it for me. A lifetime of struggle and secondhand things, and I’d put aside all thoughts that life could actually be different.

Everett must have realized I was struggling because he smiled gently and turned to go. “I’ll leave you to settle in,” he said. “If you need anything, just let me know.” His smile broadened. “Welcome home.”

Home . The word got caught in my throat, burrowing into my chest as the door clicked behind him, and I threw myself onto the bed, sinking into the softest mattress I’d ever felt.

A squeal of pure joy slipped from my lips, and my legs kicked up in the air as I buried my face in the pillows, grinning like an idiot.

I rolled onto my back and stared up at the chandelier, the giddiness bubbling inside me. Was this what the princess felt like in the stories when she was whisked away by the prince and her fairy tale came true?

Maybe—just maybe—things were starting to turn around for me.

* * *

The first week passed in a blur of disbelief and exploration. Every corner of the house proved just how small and out of place I was.

I spent most of my time wandering around, trying not to get lost. There were rooms that seemed to have no use at all for Everett, like the libraries with shelves towering to the ceiling, filled with books that still smelled new and untouched. I ran my fingers along the spines, reading titles I’d never heard of, feeling a strange pang of disbelief inside me that I would now have the opportunity to read them all.

The house had its own home theater. Rows of leather recliners faced a screen that took up an entire wall. There was a candy bar and popcorn machine, and I spent almost every night watching movies while eating popcorn and ice cream until all hours of the morning.

There was also an enormous pool. It was sprawling, glittering under the sun like a sapphire embedded in the backyard. There were lounge chairs lined neatly along the edges, a cabana off to the side, and even a little waterfall feature that trickled into the water. I’d never seen anything like it in real life. It was the kind of thing I’d only ever dreamed about, and yet there it was, right outside the glass doors.

My uncle’s rooms were on the second floor on the other side of the mansion overlooking the pool and gardens, and the first couple of days I rarely saw him because of work. He told me he was in “acquisitions and sales,” but he hadn’t given me any other details besides that.

School wasn’t starting until the next week, so I took advantage of all the rooms, reading all the books I could, swimming in the hot Texas sun, and trying on all of my clothes like I was Cinderella herself.

Everything seemed too good to be real.

And I forgot an important lesson that I should have already learned. That sometimes, when everything feels too perfect, like a dream you’re afraid to wake from, it’s because the cracks were hidden just beneath the surface, waiting to remind you that nothing that good ever comes without a cost.

* * *

My uncle had set me up to attend the most prestigious school in Dallas—even though one look at my grades should have told him I had no business being there. Everyone at Smithwood Preparatory wore crisp uniforms, and the buildings looked like something out of an Ivy League brochure. It was intimidating at first, seeing how polished and put-together everyone was, but I somehow managed to make friends—quickly—for the first time in my life.

Here, I wasn’t the girl with a junkyard past and a suitcase full of secrets. No one knew what my life had been like before I got here, and I wasn’t about to tell them. It was easier to blend in, to let the shiny new exterior my uncle had handed me do the talking. The uniform helped—a tailored blazer and pleated skirt that somehow made me look like I belonged. It was a far cry from the thrift store finds I’d patched together back in public school.

Friends. I’d never had them before, not really. I’d had people who were nice to me in passing or sat next to me in class because there were no other options, but this was different. These girls wanted to sit with me at lunch, wanted to know where I got my hair done, wanted to tell me secrets they swore no one else knew. They asked me to join their group projects, to go shopping after school, to come to their birthday parties.

And I could say yes. For once, I could actually say yes.

The best part? I could invite them over to my house. My house. Not my mom’s cramped apartment that always smelled like cigarettes and cheap air freshener, or the foster homes that never allowed it anyway. My uncle’s house was a palace, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t ashamed of where I lived.

The first time I invited a group over, I thought I might throw up from the nerves. They piled out of their cars, giggling and chattering as they walked up the driveway, their eyes widening as they took in the mansion. The house looked even more extravagant from their perspective, and I saw it through fresh eyes—the sprawling gardens, the shimmering pool in the back. It wasn’t just a house; it was a statement.

“Sloane, this is your house?” Claire asked, her voice dripping with awe.

I smiled, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though I was literally beaming inside with pride. “Yep. Home sweet home.”

Home . The word still tasted strange on my tongue, but it felt good to say.

We spent the afternoon lounging by the pool, sipping Diet Coke from crystal glasses my uncle’s staff brought out on silver trays. The girls gushed over how amazing everything was, complimenting every detail of the house. I couldn’t stop smiling, basking in the feeling of being… normal. For the first time, I wasn’t the girl hiding where she lived, making excuses for why no one could ever come over. I was part of something, part of a group that wanted me there.

By the time they left, hugging me goodbye and promising to do it again soon, I felt lighter than I had in years. I closed the door behind them, leaning against it and letting out a deep breath before I slowly sank to the floor.

* * *

A few blissful months later I was walking to the kitchen when the faint hum of music and muffled conversation floated up the grand staircase. I made my way down, curiosity tugging at me with each step. My uncle had a few meetings since I’d been here, but this sounded different. Bigger. The sounds were too lively, too vibrant, too full of something electric to be the kind of dry business meeting I’d seen him host.

At the base of the stairs, I hesitated, clutching the banister as the low rumble of voices and the clink of glasses grew louder. The source of the commotion was obvious—the ballroom doors were cracked open, a warm golden light spilling into the dim hallway. The flicker of chandeliers and the faint scent of expensive perfume filled the air, and I had to see more.

I crept closer, careful to keep my steps light, and peered through the opening. My breath caught in my throat.

The room was filled with men in perfectly tailored suits, the kind of suits that screamed old money and whispered power. They moved in clusters, their conversations animated, their laughter polished and practiced. Each of them held a drink in hand, swirling amber liquid in crystal glasses as if it were part of the performance. Their faces carried that air of effortless confidence that came with knowing you owned the world—or at least enough of it to not care about the rest.

But it wasn’t the men who stole my attention.

Scattered among them were women, draped in gowns that shimmered under the light of the chandeliers. They were glamorous in a way I’d only seen in magazines, their hair perfectly styled, their makeup flawless. Diamonds glittered at their throats, their ears, their wrists, catching the light every time they moved. They looked like they’d stepped out of a dream, impossibly elegant and stunning, and the men, the much older men…they were enthralled. Hanging on their every word, leaning in too close, their eyes greedy and admiring all at once.

One of the women laughed, a soft, musical sound that drew the attention of everyone around her. She tilted her head, her fingers lightly brushing the arm of a man who looked like he belonged on the cover of Forbes . He leaned closer, captivated, his gaze never leaving her face. Her smile widened, the diamonds at her throat catching the light like tiny fireworks.

They looked like they were having the time of their lives.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The scene was intoxicating—sparkling, seductive, and dripping with wealth. The gowns, the jewels, the effortless grace of the women as they charmed the room…it was mesmerizing. They were the kind of beautiful that didn’t feel real, the kind that made you question if you were looking at actual people or some kind of fantasy brought to life.

My hand tightened on the edge of the doorframe, my pulse quickening. It wasn’t just their beauty or their gowns or the way they commanded attention. It was the way they seemed to belong . They moved through the room like they owned it, like they belonged among the men and the money and the power.

And for a moment, just a moment, I wondered what it would feel like to be one of them. To wear the diamonds, to command the room, to be admired instead of ignored. To have that kind of power.

“They’re breathtaking, aren’t they?” Everett’s voice floated behind me, making me jump.

“Oh, hi. I’m sorry. I heard something on my way to get a snack,” I told him, worried he’d be mad at me for being nosy.

He grinned at me, his smile making him look younger…more carefree.

“Nonsense. This is your house. And I’ll keep telling you it’s your house until you believe it.”

I smiled shyly, my gaze flicking back into the ballroom.

“Who are they?” I asked.

He studied me for a moment, his gaze unreadable as he brought his highball to his lips and took a long drink. “They’re masters of their own fate,” he said, his tone smooth, practiced. “Businesswomen, if you will. Women who know how to control a room, how to navigate power and wealth with ease.”

I frowned slightly, his answer only raising more questions. “What kind of business?” I asked.

His smile widened, but there was something cold in it. “The kind that requires charm, intelligence, and a certain…finesse.”

That didn’t clear anything up. If anything, it only made me more confused.

“Those women command attention. They know what they want, and they know how to get it. It’s a skill few possess, but those who do…they thrive.”

I nodded slowly, trying to piece it together. There was something about the way he spoke, the deliberate way he chose his words, that made me feel like he wasn’t telling me the whole story. But I didn’t dare press further.

“I see,” I said quietly, even though I didn’t.

“Do you?” His tone was amused, almost mocking, as he leaned against the doorway. “Good. You should pay attention to women like that, Sloane. They understand the world in ways most people never will.”

My gaze went back to the ballroom.

“You know, I could see you being like them, strong and beautiful and in charge of your destiny.”

“Really?” I asked, blushing. After six months I still wasn’t used to praise, and my uncle was generous with it.

“Oh, yes. I’m quite sure that someday you’ll possess all the same traits.”

He patted my shoulder. “You’d better get to bed, though. You’ll be exhausted at school as it is.”

I nodded, saying goodnight and wandering back to my room without the snack I’d come down for in the first place.

I couldn’t stop thinking about those women while I walked to my bedroom. About the way they carried themselves, how they seemed to own the room. It wasn’t just the wealth or the beauty; it was something deeper, something magnetic.

My uncle had given me so much, and now he'd shown me even more. I didn't want to let him down, and I didn't want to lose the chance to be like those women. Because more than anything, I wanted to be in charge of my destiny, just like he'd said.