Chapter 2: Avery

My heels bounce against the marble floors of my parents’ fifth avenue apartment lobby. A night of crying led to a fury of epic proportions. And in the aftermath, I decided that the years of denying my own desires, in favor of the family demands and legacy ends, today.

I hurry into the elevator, hitting the button for the penthouse, my parents’ apartment. As the doors close, I rehearse the speech I have prepared for my father. It lists all the things I have done for the sake of the family, and how I refuse to do this. This marriage is where I end it, and their control. It has to be.

The ring announces my arrival a few minutes later. Stepping out, I am greeted by the butler, who is waiting to take my things. “Where is my father?” I ask, not bothering with the niceties I normally would.

“In his office, Miss Avery,” he responds, hesitant, sensing my anger, which isn’t an emotion I display often, if ever. Nodding, I veer past him and up the stairs to the next level. I stomp down the hallway, not stopping before I open the office door and step inside.

My father sits behind his mahogany desk, in the leather chair he considers a throne, and in a sick way, it is. He doesn’t glance up from the papers he holds, continuing to work, not acknowledging my existence. A common tactic he uses to force me into speaking first.

“I won’t marry Hayden,” I blurt out, stumbling over my refusal. The fury that fueled my actions moments ago quickly dissipates, as grey eyes slide up to meet mine. His expression is harder than stone, as his eyes narrow, staring me down.

“Well, hello to you to Avery,” he responds dryly. He isn’t annoyed yet, but he is on the verge.

“I won’t marry Hayden,” I repeat, trying to sound more convincing, but I freeze up again, unable to finish the argument.

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him, amusement noticeable in the smirk he wears. “Really?” he asks, taunting me like a cat chasing a mouse. “Because you don’t sound so convinced that you won’t.”

“I won’t, father,” I snap, straightening my shoulders, and lifting my chin. For the first time in memory, I deny his orders and don’t willingly comply.

“And do you really think you get a choice?” he asks, but the way he says it makes me suspect this won’t be as easy as I assumed.

“Of course!” I argue back, beginning to lose my composure, which is never a good thing around him. “I never agreed to this.”

“Well, according to the contract you signed,” he states, dropping the bomb, smiling wickedly as my falls. “You did.”

“What contract?” My knees weakening as the room spins around me. “I never signed a contract!”

Frederick Summers doesn’t respond, instead unlocking a drawer on his desk. He opens it, pulling out a stack of papers, throwing them between us. “Look for yourself.”

I step forward, knowing whatever sits within those pages damns me to a life I’ll resent. Picking it up, I glance at the first page, recognizing the heading. Memories of my eighteenth birthday spring forward. My father making me sign papers regarding my trust, and college arrangements. “I remember this, but there was no such clause.” My hands turn through the pages my eyes scanning desperately for the hint of a bluff.

“No, there wasn’t when you read the first draft,” he comments, looking at his nails, boredom in his expression. As he explains, I find the clause hidden deep within the text. “But two days later, when you signed the finalized papers, it magically appeared. And now you’ve learned a valuable life lesson. Always reread the contract before signing.”

It’s all there in black ink, my future sealed, with the amount it cost Hayden to buy me right next to it. The longer I read, the smaller my world becomes. Shaking, I meet my father’s gaze, denial in my aura as I restate my past declaration. “I still won’t do it.”

He bursts into laughter like he’s heard the funniest joke in years, his reaction making me smaller. “And what do you plan to do, exactly?”

“Work,” I return proudly. It was my original plan, anyway. “I have a college degree from Yale.”

“Oh, that’s rich, you've never worked a day in your whole damn life.” He laughs more, knowing all the ways to make me feel inferior. It’s his superpower. “Let me fill you in on a few facts, Avery.” He leans forward, the aura around him shifting.

“Hayden owns you.” He doesn’t blink, or react, at his confession, seemingly at ease with the knowledge. “And he has since you turned eighteen. That college degree you tote so proudly, he paid for it. Your apartment? He pays for it. The clothes that you buy with that little black card in your wallet? It’s his account.”

The longer he talks, the more sick I feel. The breakfast I had this morning is on the verge of coming back up. “Haven’t you ever wondered why you never made it past a first date?”

“Hayden?” I ask, my voice shaking as the world closes in around me. How I am still standing after the onslaught of information is beyond me. My heart breaking knowing that my father could allow this.

“Yes,” he answers, his voice cold and without compassion or empathy. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have work to finish.” He waves me away in dismissal, but I refuse to move. The whirlwind of emotions settling, as the shock turns into a storm of renewed anger.

“How could you do this?” I whisper, devastated that he would sell me to the highest bidder. My father and I have never been close, but I never thought he’d act this evil.

“Avery,” he sighs with annoyance. “We all have our responsibilities when preserving the legacy of this great family. Yours is to marry for our advancement. Your brother’s is to take over the company. Marriage is a business agreement for people like us. No one is immune. Your brother will eventually follow.”

“Then why not marry me off at eighteen?” I demand, not letting him walk away from this conversation. Not until I understand why they waited so long if they were going to trap me in this life.

“It’s frowned upon now,” he says with displeasure. “Society has changed. If this had been sixty years ago, I could have without the company facing repercussions or judgement. You will do what’s expected of you, Avery, and marry Hayden in October. We won’t have this discussion again.”

His demand is the final nail in the coffin as my new life cements into place. Turning on my heel, I head for the exit only to be stopped by him calling out once more.

“And if you think,” he gloats behind me, “that you will find a job, to weasel your way out of this, good luck finding someone in the city to hire you.”

I don’t acknowledge his taunts as I stomp toward the door. My mind racing trying to find the silver lining, to find the way out.

Throwing open the door, I enjoy as it slams against the wall, creating an echo so that the whole house knows my displeasure. The maid, at the end of the hallway, glances before hurrying away to avoid my unusual wrath.

Unable to tolerate another minute in this cage I once called home, I make my escape. I walk back the way I came, descending the stairs as Jackson makes his way up. “Aves?”

“Did you know?” I snap, not wanting to hear my childhood nickname come from his traitorous mouth.

“Yes,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, shifting awkwardly.

“For how long?”

He doesn’t answer, forcing me to look at him. The guilt is all over him, confirming what I already suspected. He’s known the whole damn time. “How long, Jackson?” I ask, wanting to hear the words come from his mouth.

“Since you were nineteen…” he admits with an exhale, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “I wanted to tell you, but dad…”

“Oh, forget him!” I yell, as he pushes the knife further into my back. “This is about you, and that you don’t respect me enough to warn me this would happen!”

“Aves, there is nothing you could have done,” he says, softly, clearly accepting the path our father has created. “At least Hayden loves you.” He says, as if it’ll somehow fix all the issues with this arrangement.

“No, Jackson,” I whisper, flabbergasted how he came to that conclusion. “Hayden’s obsessed with me. That’s not love.” I push past him, not wanting to hear another justification from him, or anyone else in this house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My bare feet pace the living room, disgust clinging to my skin. A kind that will never be washed away as long as I live in a apartment Hayden Smith pays for. The handkerchief clutched in my hands as my thumb runs over the embroidered initials. The small piece of fabric giving me strength and comfort as I run through my options, and none of them are promising.

The cellphone ringing distracts my planning. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer anyway. “Hello, is this Ms. Summers?” A male says through the speaker.

“It is,” I respond, praying that this is a potential job calling me back, wanting an interview.

“Hi, I am John,” he sounds friendly, boosting my hope and confidence. “I am an HR representative with Microsoft’s headquarters in Seattle.”

“Hi,” I say, excitement ricocheting through my bloodstream. My father may have lots of connections in New York, but surely his influence doesn’t reach that far. “Thank you for getting back to me so soon.”

“No problem,” he says, nerves making his words waver slightly. “While we appreciate your interest Ms. Summers, the position has been filled.”

“Already? They posted the position less than twenty-four hours ago,” I reply, not believing his excuse. The hope I had moments earlier deflates like a popped party balloon.

“Yes, well…I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.” I don’t have the chance to say more before the line goes dead, leaving me listening to the dial tone. The second I drop the call, a text message comes in from my father.

“Any luck finding that job yet?”

I throw my phone, with a yell of frustration, watching as it smashes against the wall, breaking into a million pieces. “Jesus Christ,” someone says behind me. “What the hell is happening, Aves?”

Spinning around, I find my blonde haired best friend Davina. She stands there with a bottle of wine in her hand, worry written on her hand. “Where the hell were you last night?” I snap, practically foaming at the mouth in frustration

“Woah,” she says, arms raised, taking a step back. “I showed up, but security wouldn’t let me inside.”

“What are you talking about?” I demand, although I already have suspicions about who would make sure she stays away.

“The security told me you didn’t want me inside,” she explains, grabbing the bottle opener from the drawer. She makes work of uncorking the bottle while she continues talking. “I was pretty pissed too until I woke up this morning and saw your engagement being announced in the paper. That’s when I realized…”

“When you realized it was actually my parents who took you off the list?” I finish the thought for her, banging my head against the wall with a groan.

“Yeah,” she says, busy pouring me a large glass before getting one for herself. “Probably smart on their part. I would have made a huge scene. So, you’re really marrying Hayden?”

“Unfortunately,” I sigh, taking a gulp, before telling her about the conversation my father and I had earlier this morning.

“Damn,” she exhales when I am finished with my story. “You’re going to lose your virginity to that creep?” She shudders at the thought. I’d have lost it sooner, if Hayden hadn’t made me persona non grata without me even realizing it. Jesus Christ, how could I have been so blissfully clueless about my life?

“Not if I can help it,” I respond, draining the remainder of my drink, hoping it can erase the images terrorizing my psyche. My skin revolting with even the mention of his hands on any part of me.

“So what’s your plan?”

“Find a job,” I retort, making sure the glass is dry. “If I can find a company to hire me. I cannot do anything until I have money of my own.”

“Maybe you’re applying at the wrong places,” she says cryptically, picking the newspaper to examine the front page.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my tone testier than I intended, but the day’s events are wearing me down.

“You are applying to places that respect your father’s business and social status,” she explains, taking another swig of her drink.

“Instead, apply for a job with someone who hates him.” She turns the newspaper around, pointing to the man on the front.

Drake Winters, the son of my father’s business enemy, my brother’s rival, and New York City’s resident bad boy dominates the cover. The longer I stare at the picture the more I can see the validity of Davina’s plan. It’s crazy, but it might be crazy enough to work.