Page 38 of The Price of a Promise

My father had insisted on new surroundings for me.A home that better fits the future CEO, he’d said.But really, it better fit the current CEO.My condo had been on the smaller side, with only two spare bedrooms, neither of which were to my father’s standards for visiting overnight.Not that he ever needed to use the condo to stay in, though I think this aspect figured into the decision to upgrade my living space.

This new house cost a cool three million and had double master suites.I suspected my parents planned to claim one for their own – probably so they could keep a better eye on me during their random and frequent visits to the west coast.Located a couple of miles outside of town, the house was tucked into its own private Stanford oasis.Stunning views of the mountains from afar coupled with an in-ground infinity pool that begged me to have a housewarming party.

Except my favorite guest couldn’t attend.And by my father’s design, that same guest didn’t even know where this new home was.

Another wave of sadness gripped me, but I swallowed it when a knock sounded.The movers had arrived.I forced a smile the only way I knew how and shoved aside the emotions that had been holding me hostage for weeks now.

”Ms.Margulis,” the man at the door said after consulting his work order.“We’re ready when you are.”

I would never be ready.Not in my heart.My entire world had brought me to this point, but everything inside me wanted to bolt the other direction.

The only thing keeping me on the path was the fact that I felt like it was the right thing to do.Giving Axel and his brothers the chance to flourish.Choosing the family business.Becoming the CEO my father and my late brother wanted me to be.Following this carefully laid path that had been built, painstakingly, over the years specifically for me.Even if I didn’t love it, it was right.

Sometimes the hardest choices are the right choices.I had an ever-growing list of mantras that dotted my waking hours.You have a legacy to uphold.Nobody said it would be easy.

I directed the movers as best I could, keeping a close watch on the box of personal items.Knowing my father, I couldn’t rule out that he somehow knew the last of Axel’s things were tucked away there, including the drawstring baggie of beach glass in the same blue thunderstorm of his eyes.

Once the movers were packing up the last of the truck, I tucked the box under my arm, grabbed my purse, and let Randall, our West Coast driver, whisk me away to my new home.

I’d been there only once before, back when my parents had sent me a long list of potential properties to visit.I’d offered my preferences, but this one hadn’t even been in the top three.I could only assume we’d been too slow or bid too low to secure the home I truly wanted.

And really, what did it matter?This was a gift.I could say nothing.Even though I desperately wanted to select a home for myself, even if my choice was drastically smaller and in a different part of town, that wasn’t how this transaction worked.

My father made the decisions.

Everything happened according to his liking.To his tastes.To his desires.

And everyone around him just watched as the vice clamped tighter.

“Darling.Welcome to your new home!”My mother was there in the slate-paved cul-de-sac of the two-story stucco home that had once, according to the realtor, been an early residence of Jennifer Aniston.I’d seen Jennifer Aniston in that showFriendsthat Axel had me binge with him on Netflix once, so it was a talking point, if nothing else, for future guests.

“Thanks, Mother.”I tried the forced smile again, but it failed to light.My cheeks twitched and gave up.

I hauled myself out of the car, limbs sluggish and heavy.

“Quit slouching,” she snapped quietly.“I thought you’d grown out of that after you turned thirteen.”

“Must be regressing,” I muttered, straightening my back.My body clearly wanted to curl into the fetal position and remain there for a year until I metamorphosed into a different, rested, emotionless version of myself.But until then, slouching was the only thing that made sense.

“Did everything go okay at the old place?”

“Sure.Yeah.Great.It’s empty and ready for the next person.”I slung my purse over my shoulder and grabbed my box of Axel memorabilia.

“What’s in there?”

“Just my personal stuff I don’t want the movers touching,” I told her.“My earrings and bracelets and whatnot.”

My mother sniffed and nodded, already not listening.“I came to help get you settled.This is a big day!Aren’t you thrilled?”

Thrilled was not even in the top hundred words I’d use to describe how I felt, so I just said, “Mmm.Yes.”

My phone buzzed intermittently from inside my purse, which signaled incoming messages.I followed my mother up the marble steps as I fished my phone out.

Axel had written on Instagram:Are you getting my texts anymore?I just tried calling you and it goes straight to voicemail.Did you fucking block my number?

AXEL: How the fuck do you go from engaged to taking a break to blocking my number?

AXEL: Cora, answer me!

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