Page 3 of Fractured Mind

“I will.”

“This is yours as well,” she says, placing a small white bag on top. She must see the confusion on my face because she adds, “It’s macaroons. The gentleman that was just here purchased it for you.”

I beam. That was nice of him.

When I walk outside, Wayne is standing by the limousine, waiting for me. He puts his hands out, gesturing for the box of treats. I hand it to him and keep the macaroon bag and slide into the seat beside Nana.

“The lady who served me said hi.”

She smiles. “The ladies are great, and the food is... well, wait until you try it.”

We drive farther along until we’re on a mountain surrounded by a forest and overlooking the ocean. Loud pumping music distracts me. An expensive sports car turns out of a driveway.The car window is down, and I can see the male driver. Once on the road, the car speeds up, its exhaust echoing as it leaves.

Nana purses her lips and scowls at the car. “That boy knows better than to speed.” Her face then softens as she glances at me. “Oh, I forgot to ask. Do you need to contact anyone to let them know you’re here?”

“Just work.” I realize how pathetic that sounds. “And my friend Nick.”

It’s not like I have close friends at school; they’re more like acquaintances. When I started working, Nick and I clicked straight away. He’s hilarious, and even on the worst days, he still makes me laugh.

“I have you starting school here on Monday. It being your last year, I wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

My body stills, the nervousness kicking in and making it hard to keep breathing at a normal rate. I’ll find it challenging to meet new people. I never fit in at my last school. The school exclusively enrolled privileged teens, leaving me feeling like an outsider. We struggled with money, so I always wondered how my mom could afford it, but now I have an idea. “Did you pay my school fees?”

“Yes. From when you were young, I told your mother I wanted to pay for your education.”

The car stops outside a large gate flanked by two stone pillars. When it opens, we drive through, and lush trees surrounding the property come into view.

We travel down the long driveway and then pull up outside the biggest house I’ve ever seen—or is it a mansion? The three-story house has large arched windows and is clad in stone all around.

When we stop, Wayne opens my door, holding his hand out to help me. A breeze carries the scent of trees, flowers, and salty air. Wayne blocks me as I go to the back of the car to get my bags.“I’ll bring them to your room,” he offers. It feels strange having people help me when I’m used to doing everything myself.

As I walk inside the entrance, my eyes grow wide. The mansion has a cathedral ceiling with exposed wooden beams. I step toward a window, which looks to be at least six meters high, and look out over a spread of trees, other mansions, and roads that lead to the ocean. I suck in a sharp breath. “I’ve never seen a view as beautiful as this,” I whisper.

Nana stands beside me. “You have this view from your bedroom too.”

My heart pounds in my ears from a mix of shock and excitement.

“Wayne, can you show Mia to her room?” Nana’s eyes return to me. “Lunch will be ready shortly.”

Wayne, who’s holding my bags, nods. I follow him up the spiral staircase, our footsteps echoing. On the third level, we walk down a hallway. I peek into each room as we pass each doorway. The rooms appear to be bedrooms.

Wayne walks into one room, and I trail behind, taking everything in. He sets down my bags beside the bed. “This room is yours.”

I’m in awe. The room has a cream-colored carpet, antique furniture, and a wooden bed with a gold bedspread. But the best thing is the view. The moment I see the windows, I’m drawn to them. Nana was right—the view matches the one from the entryway. The room also has a balcony with chairs.

“Carmen had a personal shopper pick out clothes for you. They’ve been washed and put away.”

I’ve never had someone care for me like this. I clear my throat as I work to contain the sudden surge of emotion.

He points to a door on the far side of the room. “That is your en suite... I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, and when he leaves, I collapse on the bed, my back meeting the soft material.

My phone pings with a message, and I groan at seeing my boss’s name—Karen—lighting up the screen.

Can you cover the late shift again?

Because she’s rude, I’m relieved that I’m no longer working for her.

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