Page 108 of Cinderella Is Faking It

He knew.

He’d known since the first time I’d slept with him.

The sound of glass shattering would have been poetic if it hadn’t been followed by a pained scream. I swung my legs out of bed and stumbled forward. One of my arms was in a thick, blue cast, the other hooked to an IV-drip. I yanked the needle from my wrist with my teeth, barely registering the pain. I was either tripping on some heavy painkillers, or I had become really good at thatwhole pain channeling thing. Two more steps towards the door confirmed it was the painkillers, my legs wobbling under me.

I leaned on the bedpost and took a few steadying breaths.

Whatever the hell was going on if Beck had known for weeks… I’d asked him to call me Del. Had he ever even referred to me as Cordelia?

I couldn’t focus. My head felt like the air above hot asphalt, all thoughts reduced to a dense shimmering mirage. Julian was here. At Cordelia’s house. And there was a chance he knew I wasn’t really me. No,hold on, I was still me, but I wasn’t really Cordelia. Cordelia was somewhere in this house though.

Pressing a hand against my forehead as if that could steady my mind, I stumbled towards the door. Of course, it was locked. What on earth had he locked me in here for? Where had he even gotten the key? The scream. Someone had screamed. Oh god. I leaned my forehead against the cooling wood of the door.Okay, okay, okay, think, Del. Don’t panic.

Julian had said something about the next few weeks, right? That meant, he couldn’t be planning to hand me over to the authorities for impersonating Cordelia.

Whatever he had planned, I knew in my gut that I didn’t want to lie in bed and wait. I had no intention to find outwhatJulian was, as Beck had put it.

If Beck had known-nope. No.Focus.

I glanced down at myself. I was in an old, oversized t-shirt that reached down to my knees, that I usually only wore as a nightgown when I knew nobody was going to see me in it. Mostly due to the holes all around the collar. It would have to do, because my legs were too unsteady to even consider putting on pants. I had one burst of energy in me, and I wouldn’t waste it on leggings. Instead, I trotted towards the window, crawled onto the window seat, and wedged the sliding glass open. A wall of stale, warm summer air pressed against me.

I looked down. Second floor with a garden view. Also, a prime view through the roof of Cordelia’s small winter garden, just a few feet beneath my window. Alright. I sucked in a breath and pushed my feet through the opening. Apparently, I’d rather die by falling through a glass roof and cutting all my veins open than wait for Julian. Or Beck.

I didn’t wait for the panic to creep through my clouded brain. Harvesting whatever momentary lapse in judgement the pain killers afforded me, I turned onto my stomach and let myself slide out. A dull ache throbbed in my side as I lowered myself and all my weight hang off my upper body. Then my toes connected with smooth glass.

“Oh god,” I whimpered. There was no going back. I would die. Winter gardens weren’t constructed to be walked around on. The second I let go, I was in for certain death by a thousand glass shards.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let the rest of my weight drop. The glass groaned beneath me, then… Nothing happened.

My subconscious took over, some old knowledge about weight distribution on unstable surfaces making me lower myself onto my stomach, flat palms pressing against the cool glass. This way, I pushed myself to the side of the roof, only to realize I’d forgotten a little detail in my escape plan. It was an 8ft drop to the ground. If I fell and hit my head- If the wounds from the car crash reopened-Nope. No.Teens climbed out of windows and off roofs all the time. It was going to be fine. I pushed myself further, feet dangling first, then legs, and then I just had to let go and gravity pulled me off the roof.

I landed on my butt, a sharp pain radiating up my tailbone and clearing some of the haze from my head.

“You’re such an idiot,” Cordelia laughed, voice bitter, and I forgot all about the pain. I couldn’t see into the house from where I’d landed, because potted plants lined the glass walls of the winter garden, but I could still hear the shuffling of feet and clatter of cutlery inside. My eyes landed on the glass door a few feet away from me, which stood ajar by just an inch. Weird. I’d never seen that door open. I crawled towards it, listening to Cordelia’s words. “Even if Delilah marries your brother,youwon’t get access to the Montgomery estate.”

Marry? Who the hell was marrying who? NotthisDelilah.

“Well, not yet,” Julian mumbled through a full mouth. Was he eating? What the hell? Having dinner with the real Cordelia Montgomery and discussing her inheritance? “She’ll pop out a child two or three years from now. And then if something were to happen toCordelia Montgomery, her child would inherit the whole lot. Sure, the inheritance would be tied up in a trust, but who better to oversee the trust than Daddy dearest. You know, women die in childbirth all the time, right?”

My stomach soured at his words. Women died in childbirth all the time? Like what? Eclampsia? Preventable if only you knew what to look out for? I was beginning to see what Beck had implied.Just another woman that should do her hair, open her legs, and stand behind her man.Julian probably didn’t think much better of Cordelia, and if it had been her scream earlier…

I shot a look around the backyard, but the shed with the potential weapons of self-defense was at the other end - God, why did rich people have such large backyards? I wouldn’t make it that far without collapsing or someone inside spotting me. Fine. I studied the plants right by the door, and decided the peace lily in the square pot with the sharp edges would be perfect.

“As of Friday morning, 8am, all the assets that were tied up in the Montgomery name will be gone, Beckett. Except for my house and my personal trust, which is probably less than what you take home in a year.”

He wouldn’t see me. He wouldn’t see me. He wouldn’t see me.Manifestations in my thoughts, I bent forward to shoot a look through the glass door. Julian and Cordelia sat across from each other at the dinner table. Him, with a sandwich on his plate. Her, with her hands tied behind the chair.

“Gone? What do you meangone? You couldn’t have bankrupted your father’s company in six months. You had no access to it while it was legally tied up.”

“Oh no, that’s the best part. Delilah was going to give a big speech at the White Ball next week. All the money is funneled into the Theresa Montgomery foundation to stop violence against women.” She tossed her head back, shaking the hair from her face. “Do you see the irony of this situation?”

And once the company was gone, Cordelia Montgomery could disappear from the public eye forever. She could run the day to day of the foundation from her home. She could focus on direct action instead of fundraising galas. It had been a very persuasive 34-page PowerPoint presentation.

“Bullshit. Nobody would be that stupid. You and that girl have been lying to everyone for weeks.” He grabbed something from the table as casually as one would a saltshaker - except, it was a gun, and he was pointing it right at Cordelia. “This is just another lie, trying to weasel your way out of here, so you can crawl back to your little boytoy and pretend the world doesn’t exist.”

Boytoy? Did he mean Victor? Where the hell was Victor anyway?

I wasn’t going to wait for that gun to go off. As fast as my shaking limbs allowed, I jumped up, swung through the door, and grabbed the peace lily. “Hey!” I chucked the plant at him, aiming for the gun, but it crashed at his feet instead. Soil exploded all over the floor.

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