Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(4)
2
The Deboise house was exactly what I’d thought it would be. As Catherine’s chauffeur-driven Bentley paused outside the wrought iron gates, I allowed myself a quick moment of awe.
It wasn’t a house. Not even close. It was a sprawling mansion like something out of one of those fantastic Christmas rom-coms. The ones with a girl who meets a prince in a foreign, made up country and they fall madly in love… what a shame happy endings weren’t real, and pretty mansions were just bricks and mortar.
“This is where you live?” I muttered, unable to bite my tongue any longer. We’d been silent the entire helicopter flight and car ride, and I was starting to get twitchy.
Catherine turned her condescending glare on me. “This is where we live. You’re a Deboise now, Riley. Start getting used to it.” She grimaced, her mouth twisting like she’d licked a lemon. “That name is atrocious and not at all suitable for my daughter. We’ll have to change it before the school term starts.”
I spluttered in shock and choked on a stray droplet of saliva.
Smooth, Riles. Real smooth.
“Excuse me?” I demanded when my coughing subsided. “I could have sworn you just said you wanted to change my name.”
My birth mother turned her attention back to her phone that she’d been tapping away at for the whole journey. “That’s exactly what I said, child. Perhaps you suffered a worse head injury than the doctors realized.”
I clenched my teeth together. Hard. My temper had always been a bit short, but no amount of deep breathing and counting to ten was going to save me now.
“You can’t just change my name because it doesn’t suit you,” I declared, a growl of fury underscoring my words. “That’s not how it works. It’s my fucking name, you egomaniac.”
This finally seemed to capture her attention entirely, and her icy glare snapped back to me. “I’m going to let that slide, just this once, because you don’t know what you’re saying. But hear this, child. I’m Catherine Deboise. I can do anything I please, and if I want to change your name, that’s exactly what I’ll do.” Her response left me gobsmacked, at a total loss for words. I had no idea people like this even existed. “As for that appalling, vulgar language, I can only imagine it’s a result of your poor upbringing. Deboise ladies don’t swear, so don’t ever do it again.”
Her swipe at my parents—my dead parents—had me seeing red.
Before I could even process what I was doing, I spat in her face. “Fuck you, Catherine.”
She sat there a moment, just staring at me in shock as my saliva ran down her cheek. For a millisecond, I regretted my actions. Spitting was revolting, and not something I’d ever done before, but Catherine Deboise brought out the worst in me.
My moment of regret was gone as quick as it came thanks to the crack of Catherine’s hand across my face. She’d used the back of it, her huge diamond rings cutting my cheek in the process.
“The next time you treat me with disrespect, I’ll have you beaten.” She delivered the threat in such a cold, uncaring way that I really questioned if maybe I’d died in the crash after all. Surely this was Hell.
I touched my fingers to my cheek, dabbing at the blood trickling from the fresh wound and looking at them in stunned disbelief. She’d just hit me!
Catherine pushed open her door and stepped out, disappearing into the mansion without another word and leaving me to find my own way. After a few minutes of struggling I finally managed to clamber out of the car, only to find the fucking driver just standing there.
“Thanks for the help, asshole,” I growled at him in anger. Not because I expected servants to wait on me hand and foot, but because I was in a goddamn cast and blood still dripped down my face. It was only common courtesy, wasn’t it?
The driver raised his brows, giving me an aloof look. “Word of advice, miss. Keep your head down and your mouth shut. You do not want to get on the Mistress’s bad side.”
I glared at him, then decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue. All he’d done was confirm what I already suspected… Catherine Deboise was a fucking psychopath.
“This is your room,” she said, acting like the confrontation in the car hadn’t even happened. “I’m heading out right after this for a business meeting. You will stay in here until I get back, and then we will go over the rules.”
I didn’t even bother to acknowledge her. I’d already decided that whatever she told me to do, I was going to do the opposite. I might not have much power against someone with Deboise banking money, but I’d take what I could. She’d made a big mistake thinking she could just pick me up and drop me back in her life again, and now that I had met her it was making even less sense that she had.
She turned away from the door, and I had to ask: “Why?”
She didn’t pretend not to understand. “Because I have need of you now. I didn’t when you were born.”
Then she strode off, the heels clicking on the shiny wood floor.
I blinked after her, trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. Had need of me? Need for what?
Panic and pain swirled inside of me again, and I had to steady myself against the door frame. From the outside it no doubt looked like I’d hit the jackpot: mega-rich birth parents bringing me back into their lives. Their sort of money was beyond anything I’d ever known. From my first step onto the marble floors of the Deboise mansion, I knew I was so far out of my element it wasn’t funny. I grew up in a loving, but very poor, home. We had never had a single extra, but we got by. That was how I’d met Dante. He’d been my neighbor growing up, until he graduated to his own pretty impressive condo. I’d never asked him how he afforded it, and he never dragged me into whatever he was low-key running for the local gangs.