Page 4 of The Billionaire's Pact

Mama entered the room, came over, and squeezed my shoulders.

“My beautiful daughter’s graduating Summa Cum Laude, Phi Beta Kappa.” She had told just about everyone we passed. I achieved a grade point average above 3.8 and the highest honors and membership into the most prestigious honors society for Liberal Arts. Yet, even eight years later, my senses went to care mode, scanning her. No bruises, maintaining weight. A beautiful rinse of red curls fell down to her shoulders. Her suit was well-tailored with hose and heels. The diamond ring on her finger from her second marriage had been enormous, but of course, Mrs. Belfiore corrected it into a “tasteful band.”

My attention followed Mrs. Belfiore as she stepped in front of a box on the bed and glared. I sighed. Jacob’s artwork and mine were rolled and banded, but not in the travel tubes. Mentioning Jacob always sent Mama into despair since her new husband refused to allow Jacob to live with them. However, nothing would make me leave his artwork behind, even if bringing attention to it would upset her.

I pressed a tag to the lid. Mrs. Belfiore and I locked gazes, with her finally breaking our standoff by giving her assistant, Patricia, the tubes. She quickly took them out of the room to their Mercedes SUV.

“Reginald’s disappointed he couldn’t come,” Mrs. Belfiore said, recovering. “Can you believe Lana’s high school graduation is on the same day?”

Lana was the daughter of my grandfather’s brother, Lawrence. They were the Belfiores of the Upper West Side of Manhattan, whom I had met a scarce number of times. Unlike me, my cousin Lana Belfiore traveled more than she attended high school. And if the rumors were true, Uncle Lawrence had to donate to the school to “support” Lana graduating with her class.

“He’s very proud of you,” Mama added. “He even had the press announce your graduation.”

My smile remained, but pain ached my chest. “Please let him know how thankful I am. It’s fine he can’t attend tomorrow. I understand.”

Announcements were something the college offered, and not out of the ordinary. But I didn’t care about any of them, only for my grandfather to be proud of me. Maybe one day.

He kept his word though. The private facility he placed my brother Jacob in was more of a luxurious nursing home. He had a new wheelchair and clean, pressed clothes. He was good at sign language and did FaceTime with me twice a month.

Patricia and the movers finally took out the last box. I excused myself and hurried to the bathroom and vomited. Just nerves. I’ll be okay. After brushing my teeth and combing my hair, I went back to the room. Mrs. Belfiore and Mama were at the door, ready to leave.

“We have the graduates’ dinner soon,” Mrs. Belfiore announced.

The graduates’ dinner was a tradition of the college, held at a private mansion with mostly trustees and beneficiaries. Mrs. Belfiore was a senior member and would be honored.

“Make sure you have no creases on your dress and powder on your face to not shine in the pictures.”

“I will, thank you, Mrs. Belfiore.” I shook her hand.

Mama hugged me and whispered in my ear, “It’s so good to see you.”

My heart ached. Every year I hoped it would be the one where we would have a chance to spend time together and grow close again. But every year my mother moved farther away. I had been so young—impressionable—when I was cut off from her and placed in a cold, strange boarding school. In the beginning, I had begged my grandparents to let me speak to her so often that they stopped taking my calls. It had been almost a year before they allowed us to talk again. We had both changed by then.

Mama had married Attorney General Glenn Talbot and moved to Greenwich, Connecticut. All my visits there were short, and she was always absorbed in supporting his work.

So, I lived my life simply. Always alone. Always resilient. Because what other choice was there?

Instead of staying in my room, I headed to my best friend Cassidy’s, weaving through the obstacle of boxes, suitcases, shower caddies left in the hall. Her door still had the Warhol painting of Einstein sticking out his tongue poster taped to it.

I turned the handle. Locked? “Hey, open up,” I shouted.

“Adelina,” her voice rang out. “Coming.”

The door swung open, and she posed with the back of her hand on her forehead. “Don’t say goodbye. I hate goodbyes.”

“Then I won’t say it my love,” I said in a theatrical tone, clasping her hands.

Cassidy laughed, and I joined her.

“Grand-Ma-Ma off in her chariot?” she asked in a snobbish tone, closing the door.

“Yep. To nitpick the people trapped at the dinner with her,” I half-joked.

She tutted. “That’s why my parents are skipping it.”

Mrs. Belfiore’s reputation was well known, but so was her position as head of the board of trustees. No one dared to challenge her.

Cassidy’s books, computer, bookcases, and clothes were everywhere, just like any other day. “What the hell, Cass? Why haven’t you packed?” I gestured at the mess.

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