Chapter 4
He picked up the microphone again.
"Today," he began, "I'd like to specially thank one person. My..."
He paused deliberately, and the room fell quiet.
A cold dread crept up my spine.
I had a very, very bad feeling about this.
He continued, "My mother.
"Although she chose to sit quietly in the very last row today, not wanting to disrupt this moment.
"I want to say..."
As if on cue, the spotlight swiveled and thumped down, trapping me in a blinding circle of light.
Every head in the audience turned to stare.
"Mom, thank you.
"Thank you for coming.
"Thank you... for being a part of my life."
His voice trembled with emotion, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, the very picture of heartfelt sincerity.
A fresh wave of applause erupted, now mingled with hushed whispers.
"That's Connor's mother? She looks so young!"
"Doesn't quite look the part..."
"Must be the stepmother, I heard Mr. Kinsley remarried..."
"For a stepmother to even show up is something, and she sat in the back..."
"Connor is such a sweet, thoughtful boy..."
Sitting frozen in the glare, my face hidden but undoubtedly stiff behind the mask, only one thought echoed in my mind.
That little schemer set me up perfectly.
After the ceremony, a swarm of well-dressed socialites descended on me.
"Mrs. Kinsley. Your skincare routine must be incredible."
"Mrs. Kinsley, you've raised Connor so wonderfully!"
"Mrs. Kinsley..."
Connor squeezed through the crowd, warmly linking his arm with mine. "Mom? Ready to go home?"
In the car, I finally ripped the mask off. "Connor."
"Yes?"
"That performance was over the top."
"What did I say wrong, Audrey?" He blinked innocently.
"Who exactly is your 'mom'?"
"You are," he stated matter-of-factly. "Legally, since Dad married you."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper laced with a teenager's cunning. "See, Audrey?
"After today, the whole school knows you're my 'mom.'
"Next parent-teacher meeting, the sports day, graduation...
"You're not getting out of any of it now."
I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes, utterly drained.
This thirty-thousand-dollar monthly salary was getting harder and harder to earn.
Each of the three heirs had their own tactics.
Jonathan with his outright destruction, Roman with his cunning traps, and Connor with his expert emotional manipulation.
I had defended against them all, steadfast in my commitment to doing nothing.
Then, the bombshell hit, exploding to the top of the trending list.
[[SHOCKING: Kinsley Group Heir Jonathan's Secret Life as Rock Band Frontman Exposed!]
[JonathanKinsley ROCKSTAR RAMPAGE: Smashes Supercar]
[RichKidRebellion PublicImage MELTDOWN]
The posts were accompanied by photos of Jonathan with bright blue hair, screaming into a mic in a grungy bar, clad in a studded leather jacket.
The most damning ones were blurry shots of him apparently using his guitar to smash the windshield of a luxury sports car.
The news spread like wildfire.
The Kinsley Group's stock price plummeted in response.
Nolan's call came through directly.
I could hear airport announcements in the background, his voice colder than ice.
"Audrey. I don't care how you do it.
"Get Jonathan back to the house.
"Now.
"Lock him in.
"He is not to set one foot outside until I return and deal with this.
"And make those news stories disappear.
"Audrey?"
"I see," I finally said.
A headache was already forming.
A thirty-thousand-dollar monthly salary, all expenses paid, for the sole job of existing.
This was a raw deal.
I found Jonathan's room looking like a hurricane had torn through it.
He was face down on his bed, a pillow slammed over his head.
"Get out," his muffled voice shouted.
I said, "Your father's orders. You're coming home."
"I said get OUT!" he roared, not moving.
"Fine," I agreed readily. "What do I need to do?"
"I'm sure he can have that boarding school in Aureland send a private jet for you immediately."
He flung the pillow aside, his eyes bloodshot. "Is that all you can do? Tattle to my dad?"
"That, and be idle," I stated, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "Now. Talk. What happened?"
He stubbornly turned his head away, refusing to speak.
"Nothing to say?" I prompted, picking up my phone again. "I hear the weather in Aureland is lovely this time of year."
"The band is mine," he finally gritted out, his voice hoarse.
"Obviously."
He added, "And the car belonged to Jordan Campbell."
"Who?" I asked.
"The vice mayor's son." He looked away, shamefaced. "He said my band was trash. That, without the Kinsley name, I'm nothing. So I..."
I asked, "And you smashed his car with your guitar?"
"Yes," he replied.