Chapter 3

Arthur sat by the hospital bed, using a handkerchief laced with his cologne to wipe the tears from my face.

"Eileen, your parents' ashes are with me."

He leaned down, trapping me tightly in his arms, kissing the tears off my cheeks.

"Stop throwing a tantrum, okay? As long as you behave, I'll give them back to you."

I didn't believe him. I went to Cynthia, begging her to make Arthur return them.

The very next day, I was forced onto a private jet to Switzerland by a group of men in black suits.

For three whole years, I was locked in that private psychiatric facility deep in the snowy mountains, forced to swallow sedatives every single day.

Until a month ago, when I was brought back. I used the excuse of dismissing the servants to turn the entire estate upside down.

Nothing.

The two brass urns holding my parents' ashes had vanished.

Knock, knock.

The sound pulled me back to the present.

"Eileen. It's me."

Arthur's voice came through the wood, stripped of any readable emotion.

I pressed a tissue against my arm, stood up, and opened the door.

He stood there. Seeing my still-bleeding arm, he froze, but quickly slipped back into his cold, boardroom mask.

"Bring out the Hayes family trust authorization documents. Hand them over to Cynthia to manage."

I nodded, walked over to the nightstand, pulled the thick stack of documents from the drawer, and handed them to him.

As Arthur took the files, his fingers brushed the back of my hand.

I recoiled violently, as if struck by a live wire.

The muscles in his jaw twitched hard.

"Eileen," his voice suddenly dropped, carrying a microscopic trace of begging. "Can we just..."

"Is there anything else?" I cut him off. "If not, I need to call the doctor to bandage this."

He stared at me for several long seconds. Finally, his grip tightened on the folders. He turned and left.

I shut the door and sat back down.

The sky outside slowly darkened. The Long Island sea breeze battered the floor-to-ceiling windows.

My stomach began to cramp.

Over the past three years in Switzerland, I often threw up the psychiatric medications along with my food.

Every time I stared at the stomach acid in the sink, I remembered the words my mother said, holding my hand, right before she jumped off a building after our bankruptcy.

"Eileen, I'm so sorry. I'm leaving you all alone in this cannibalistic circle..."

My father had already passed away from a heart attack. My mother was on the verge of a breakdown from the debt lawsuits.

I worked myself to the bone interning at an investment bank during the day, coming back to our apartment to take care of her at night. I was reduced to skin and bones.

Arthur was already making a name for himself on Wall Street. He was so busy I wouldn't see him for days. When he did show up, he would just drop a check and leave.

He had said, "Eileen, once I secure absolute controlling shares of the Sterling Group, I'll hire the best medical team to cure your mother."

But on the day he took over the board, my mother leaped from a Manhattan high-rise.

At dinner time, I walked to the kitchen.

I had just poured a glass of warm water when Lucas and Chloe walked in.

"Mom," Lucas leaned against the marble island, wearing his arrogant scowl. "I'm letting you know something."

I swallowed a painkiller without turning around. "What is it?"

"I don't want to go to Yale. I'm going to do underground street racing." He watched me closely. "Dad said as long as I ask, he can buy me the best racing team anytime. Better to chase the thrill now than waste time in school."

I nodded. "Okay."

Lucas froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree.

In the past, I would have exploded. I would have brought up the reputation of the Hayes and Sterling families. We would have had a massive screaming match, he would have slammed the door, and I would have cried in secret.

"Mom?" Chloe spoke up cautiously. "I... I don't want to go to an Ivy League either."

"Then what do you want to do?" I asked.

"I want to get married." She bit her lip. "To Beck. Dad said even though his family just went bankrupt, he treats me well, and if..."

"Okay," I cut her off. "Marry him if you want."

Chloe stared at me. Beck was a notorious junkie. Before, I would have rather broken her legs than agree to this.

"Mom," Chloe's eyes suddenly turned red. "Why aren't you yelling at us? Why aren't you stopping us?"

I paused and looked at her.

Why?

Because I was entirely, utterly done.

"The water's boiled," I said. "Do you want some?"

The two kids looked at me like I was a monster. They shook their heads and practically fled the kitchen.

Holding my glass, I sat alone by the island, sipping slowly. The water was hot, but it warmed my freezing stomach.

Outside, the sky turned pitch black.