Page 55 of Fragile Twisted Vows

He didn’t respond. Just waved at me as he read whatever was on his phone.

The counselor looks at me and then the computer. I know she thinks that my father is paying for this, my last name is all over this city right now because of his re-election campaign. However, this college cares about Megan, not me. They’re the very few people that even know I’m his other daughter, and they’re only nice to me because I bear his name.

They never ask questions, probably because he told them not to when I first enrolled.

I can’t believe I’m grateful for one thing my father ever did for me, force a university to turn a blind eye to me. I’m only grateful because it’s covering my ass now.

She takes my AMEX and plugs everything in before handing it back to me with a heavy stack of paperwork.

“Fall semester starts in a month, so you barely missed the deadline,” she exclaims, straightening her glasses on her wrinkled nose.

She smells of roses and cotton and it burns my nostrils as she leans close.

“You have two weeks to finalize your schedule and get your books. Most of them are QR codes, since everything is online, but you still will have to pay to access them, obviously,” she says, still avoiding eye contact with me.

“Since you’re technically going part time, I would recommend getting started on your thesis now. The professors are very picky when it comes to our marketing degree, mostly because it’s such a saturated career. They want to make sure you stand out,” she says, a slight sneer in her voice.

I don’t show that I’m offended, instead I offer her a smile and extend my hand.

“Wonderful. Thank you for your time today, Mrs. Guthrie,” I say as she tentatively takes my hand to shake it with a bored expression plastered on her old face.

I walk out of the admissions office and place the paperwork in my bag. I turn to Andy as we walk down the hall past the president’s office, there’s a bathroom at the end of the hall and I have to go.

“You don’t need to follow me in there,” I say with a sigh as I push the door open. “I’ll be quick,” I continue and he nods at me.

When I finish and go to wash my hands, I stand and stare at myself in the mirror. For the first time in a while, my eyes have a bit of sparkle to them. My cheeks have a bit of color and my face has filled out since Damien’s chef is ordered to feed me constantly.

I look…healthy. Happy even. The sight should unnerve me given the circumstances, but instead I am enthralled.

That is until someone enters the very small bathroom near the president’s office. Someone that’s very thin and tall with the sleek black bob that I've memorized to detail.

Megan.

My sister.

Oh, Jesus Christ this cannot be happening right now.

My heart drops into my stomach and my blood runs cold. Every strand of hair on my body rises as I look down and finish scrubbing my hands before turning the water off, praying that she doesn’t notice me.

“Lucille?” she calls, her voice holding the same rigid, icy tone as it always has.

Fuck.

I turn around slowly and straighten my bag on my shoulder as I shift in my boots. I look casual today, despite the Prada tote that rests against me. A bag that my sister is now eyeing with suspicion.

“Hello, Megan,” I say as I meet her dark eyes, my body filling with dread as I speak to my sister for the first time in years.

The sister who always ignored me. The sister that neglected me. The sister that taunted me. The sister that abandoned me when I needed her the most.

The woman with an ex-husband that I’m supposed to marry in three weeks.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, that hint of disgust still present in her tone.

Lie. You’ll have to anyway.

“Getting my transcripts,” I say as clench my fists at my sides, her eyes track the movement.

She’s in the same, dark pencil skirt and loose, modest top. If she wasn’t so bitchy and had an eating disorder, my sister could easily be the most beautiful woman in the world.

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