Page 3 of Wicked God
I feel the familiar sting of rejection, of not belonging. It’s a wound that never heals, merely scabs over until moments like this tear it open anew.
My last name.
The real one.
Jackson.
When I graduated from high school, I reclaimed my mother’s maiden name as a way to rebel against the toxic ways of the Carters. It was my first step towards breaking free from their expectations and living life on my terms.
And yet, here I am.
It seems like a cruel joke. My mom’s last name only serves as a reminder of how much of an outcast I truly am.
“You’re right. I may not be a Carter, but Tiffany is. Doesn’t she deserve better than being traded like a commodity?”
Dean’s face hardens. “That’s enough. Know your place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run.”
He stands up and taps his finger on the table, signaling the end of our conversation.
My legs are shaky as I stand up, desperate to escape this suffocating room and figure out what to do next.
I can’t refuse Dean’s orders, and unfortunately, he knows it, too. I’m trapped in this situation, at his mercy. This family always controlled me, but I’d foolishly hoped my sister would have a different life.
I must protect Tiffany and soften the blow for her. It’s my duty to relieve her of this burden. All I can do is go along with Dean’s plan and try to buy some time to come up with a solution.
I have no other choice.
“Remember, Olivia,” Dean tells me as I reach the door. “Keep this between us. Be the supportive sister I know you can be. There is too much at stake here; don’t make me regret this.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
“Of course.”
A smile spreads across Dean’s face. “Glad to have you on board.”
I force a tight-lipped smile in return.
Telling Tiffany about our uncle’s plans is out of the question. It’s up to me to get her out of this mess. I won’t let anyone else dictate her future.
Stepping out of Carter Manor and into the warm early September air, I inhale deeply, letting the fragrance of fallen leaves and distant wood smoke clear my mind. The perfectly manicured grounds of Carter Manor lay before me, a symbol of wealth and power that had never belonged to me.
Three steps down the gravel driveway, I freeze mid-stride.
I know exactly what I have to do.
Chapter 2
Olivia
Ihate sweet drinks. Always have. But I sip the syrupy latte anyway, watching Theodore Ashworth III over the rim of my cup. The morning sunlight pours through the large windows of Le Ciel, the new French bistro in the city’s arts district, casting a golden glow across his perfectly styled brown hair. Theo is handsome in that understated, intellectual way—wire-rimmed glasses, cashmere sweater, every inch the Ivy League poster boy. Polished. Unruffled. Like he’s never had to fight for a damn thing in his life.
It’s Friday, and this is my fifth date this week.
My eyes feel gritty, the heavy layer of concealer doing little to hide the dark circles. My feet hate me, and I’ve sat through enough Bitcoin monologues to make me want to claw my own ears off.
But desperate times call for desperate measures.
The clock’s ticking down on Tiffany’s freedom while I’m speed-dating my way through Empire Heights’ most eligible trust fund heirs. The plan that took shape after I left Carter Manor is reckless, maybe even foolish, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
If I can convince one of these men to propose—a marriage of convenience, a scandal, anything to throw off Dean’s plans—I’ll buy Tiffany time. If not, I must find another way to stop Dean from forcing her into a life she doesn’t want.
