Page 10 of Forbidden Sins

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is?—

What could it be? I close my eyes tightly, trying not to let panic overtake me, but it’s so hard. There was no sign of a break-in or some other kind of attack downstairs, no loud noises or screams or gunshots like in the movies. But maybe Sebastian or Brick or one of the other security team pinged someone who wasn’t supposed to be at the party. Someone who wasn’t on the guest list.

Yes. That’s it.I press a hand to my chest and try to breathe in and out, calming my heartbeat and my nerves. Someone must have snuck in who wasn’t invited, crashed the party. This is just all a precaution until security removes them, and then Sebastian will come up and fetch me, and I can go back downstairs?—

The thought calms me. Almost entirely. It makes sense. It means this is all an overreaction, but Sebastian’s job is to take all possible precautions when it comes to my safety. I even start to feel a little annoyed, as the idea takes root and my pulse slows, that someone crashed and tried to ruin my birthday party.

Then the minutes tick by, lengthening into a half hour since Sebastian brought me up here, more, and I start to feel that creeping panic again.

If it was just a party crasher, then would it really take so long to remove them?Maybe they resisted, made a scene, and something has to be cleaned up.I watch the clock as another fifteen minutes tick past—making it an hour since Sebastian brought me to my room, and that feeling of dread starts to creep back in once more.

I pace the length of my room, listening for the heavy tread of Sebastian’s boots down the hallway. I sit down on the edge of the bed again, as the time stretches out to two hours, and that fear returns.

Something is wrong.

Maybe Marilee texted me. Maybe she’ll know what’s happening.I grab my phone off my vanity table, checking my messages. Sure enough, there are several from Marilee.

Marilee:Are you ok??? That was weird, having that guy just sweep you away like that.

Marilee:He’s pretty hot, though. Are you coming back? Or are you just gonna bang the hot security guard? Happy birthday if so, lol.

Marilee:Ok, now they’re asking us to leave??? Saying the party is over? Are you ok? Let me know you’re ok, ‘Stel.

Marilee:Also, happy birthday. Sorry your party ended so abruptly. What’s going on, anyway? That’s so weird.

I take a deep breath.I don’t really know how to respond. I don’t know what’s going on any more than she does, but I feel like I need to say something, especially since the party has apparently been abruptly ended. My stomach twists with a fresh wave of crushing anxiety—my father has planned this party for months. It’s a major social event for him. I can’t imagine why he’d tell everyone to go home early, makingthatthe focal point of the night instead of the party itself, unless something truly awful has happened.

Luis. He never showed up. That panic bleeds through my veins again, and I nearly drop my phone, my hands suddenly shaking.No, not that.I’d know if something happened to him, surely. I’dfeelit.

Or maybe that’s just a romantic notion, that you know when something terrible happens to someone you love. Maybe no one ever knows that, and that’s why grief is so awful. Because there’s no way to prepare for it.

Not that. Anything but that.

I look at my phone, trying to focus on texting Marilee back. It takes me four tries to come up with something that reasonably makes sense.

Estella:I’m so sorry the party ended like that. I really don’t know what’s going on. Maybe my dad got some kind of weird threat or something. You know how people can be.

Seconds later,my phone buzzes with a response.

Marilee:Haha, no, I don’t really know. Rich people stuff, right? ;) Anyway, it’s okay, ‘Stel. I’m just more bummed for you. But we’ll make it up to you at my party. You’re still coming to that, right?

Truthfully,it’s the last thing on my mind right now. But I quickly text her back in the affirmative.

Estella:I wouldn’t miss it. Thanks for coming out tonight.

I dropthe phone onto the bed next to me, dropping my face into my hands. Two and a half hours, now, since I left the party. I rub my hands across my skirt, the beading catching on my skin, and I stand up abruptly, suddenly feeling suffocated in the tight dress. If the party is over, there’s no reason for me to stay in it, and I grab for the zipper, yanking it down so quickly that I’m afraid it might break. It stays in one piece, though, and the dress slithers down my body into a pool of silk and beading and tulle on the floor, next to my kicked-off heels.

Hands still trembling, I grab a pair of loose shorts and an oversized T-shirt from an on-campus concert I went to once, back when I could more easily go to things like that by claiming I was supposed to study with my friends, and slip them both on. The comfortable clothing was meant to make me feel better, but I still feel cold all over, that dread weighing me down once again.

I throw my hair up on my head, washing my makeup off at the sink and patting my face dry. The ritual of my skincare routine calms me a little—right up until the moment that I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall, coming toward my bedroom.

I fling the tube of moisturizer in my hand onto the counter, rushing back into the bedroom just as the door opens. I expect it to be Sebastian outside, for him to tell me what’s going on…but instead my father steps into the room, still in his suit from the party, his hair more unkempt than I’ve ever seen it, as if he’s been running his hands through it. He stops just inside the door, and I see the heaviness in his face. He looks at least ten years older, all of the lines in his face deepened, dark circles that Ididn’t notice before suddenly prominent.He’s too pale,I realize. That’s why I can see them now.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. There’s only one thing that could make my father look like that. Only one reason why he’d be staring at me with so much grief in his face, and I can’t fathom it. I can’t let myself believe that it’s possible, that tonight, thatanynight…this is a thing that could happen.

“Estella—”

“No.” I throw up my hands as if by doing that I can ward off whatever my father is about to say—like a shield. “No. Don’t say it. Please?—”

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