Page 1 of Fated to the Alien Healer

Chapter 1

*If your book opens to this page, please refer to prior page for CW

Nine monthsago

Zara

I really fucked up this time. Not even a little bit either. It’s not going to matter that it wasn’t my fault. Like always, according to Clifton and Priscilla Black, I’ll be the one to blame. I ruined my mother’s figure. My father’s friends and business associates pity him because he didn’t have boys to take over his business. Those are the least of my sins.

I’m messy and chaotic and I don’t fit into the box they tried to shove me in and haven’t for a long time. I’m essentially a burden. A mistake they never wanted in the first place. At least when I was little, I got to share the misery with Amelia. But she’s been gone for more than half my life, so I get to bear the full weight of the elder Blacks’ disappointment and apathy.

Just thinking about my sister brings tears to my eyes. There are days when I wish I could hate her for leaving me. Forabandoningme. But I can’t. Not knowing what I know. Instead, I wish I had been old enough to understand what it was she’d been going through. That she could have talked to me like I talked to her even if my problems were juvenile in comparison. She’d been more than my sister. She’d been my confidante. My best friend in the whole world. Practically my mother, in fact. It didn’t matter that she was only nine years older. She made everything better. She made me feel loved. Then…she was gone. And to our parents, it’s like she never existed.

I get up from my bed and pace my bedroom. The pristine—everything in its place because that’s how Priscilla requires it—bedroom. Although these days, it feels more like a cage. Maybe I wouldn’t be so on edge if there was shouting down below. God forbid Clifton or Priscilla Black raise their voice though. Then again, they don’t need to. Not when every sneer, every disdainful stare, every disappointed sigh says it all. I chew at a nail already chewed raw. It started after Amelia was gone. What began as a nervous—yet soothing—habit became my first small act of rebellion. It may seem ridiculously minor, but chewed-up, ragged nails don’t fit the Black image.

Perfection has to be maintained at all times.

A bitter snort erupts out of my nose. What a joke. Perfection is merely an illusion my parents hide behind. They have no idea I see through it and have for a long time. It gives me the tiniest bit of sadistic pleasure to fuck with them on occasion. At least it did until now. Because, after this, the shame is real. And ugly. It’s like a cancer weaving an insidious path through me. I suck in a ragged breath, trying not to break down. I’ve hadyears of practice hiding my emotions. I’m not going to cave now.Especiallynot now.

Muted footsteps grow louder until they come to a stop in front of my door and there’s a single knock before it opens without me giving permission for the person to enter.

“Your father will see you in his office now, Miss Black,” mykeeper, Sylvia,announces in her usual condescending tone like I’m some visitor who had an appointment.

Without a thank you, I shoulder past her, and with my head held high and my back ramrod straight, I march to the room I hate the most. It feels more like a mausoleum, filled with so many ghosts, including the person I used to be. Knowing I won’t disobey, Sylvia doesn’t follow to make sure I don’t dawdle. I reach Clifton’s office—I stopped thinking of him as dad a long time ago—take in a deep, bracing breath and push the cracked door farther open.

Seated behind the god-awful glass and metal monstrosity he calls a desk, with his hands resting on its surface and his fingers intertwined, is my father. His light brown hair is swept back off his broad forehead and there’s a hint of gray at his temples. Hardly any lines mar his face. How could they? He never smiles.

Off to the side, perfectly perched on a brown leather wing-back chair, with her hands folded in her lap is the woman who gave birth to me. Her blonde hair, so similar to mine, is carefully coiffed without a single strand out of place. None would dare. Similarto her husband, she has nary a wrinkle. Clifton glares while Priscilla glances away dismissively.

“For the last year I have either ignored or put up with your nonsense and utter disregard for the Black name. You have costme thousands of credits cleaning up your messes and making them go away. Our family has a reputation to uphold. One that dates back hundreds of years. Yet, in the span of twelve months you have managed to tarnish that sterling reputation. And for what? You have gained nothing from your little rebellions other than to become a laughingstock amongst the upper tier.”

I grit my teeth to hold back the curse threatening to escape, because fuck those people.

“What is worse is you have made your mother and me laughingstocks,” Clifton continues. “This little escapade of yours is not something that can be swept under the rug. Do you know how many people have seen that disgusting video? Already, the Board has been bombarding my comm with calls for my resignation. You have embarrassed your mother. More important, you have embarrassed me. It’s bad enough that you’ve made a mockery of yourself this past year, but now I am being dragged into your stupid decisions.”

My cheeks heat and that familiar shame spirals through me. Still, I keep my mouth shut. Which is, apparently, the wrong thing to do. Clifton slams his palms on his desk, and I flinch. So does my mother.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” he raises his voice.

I have a lot to say, actually, but none of it you’ll like. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? You’re sorry?” Disdain drips from his tone.

Despite my attempt to keep my emotions in check, my eyes burn with unshed tears and I sniffle. I blink them away, though, refusing to shed them in front of these people who don’t care about my feelings.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” That’s all Clifton is getting out of me. If he or Priscilla showed an ounce of compassion for what happened to me, maybe I’d give them more.

My father sneers and laces his fingers together again. Only now, he leans back in his chair and lays them across his waist. “You’ve left me no choice, Zara. This is no one’s fault but your own.”

I blink in confusion. No choice for what?

“You will return to your room. Sylvia has packed a bag for you. I don’t care where you go, but you are no longer welcome in this home. You have caused enough harm to the Black name. I will not let you destroy it any more than you already have,” Clifton announces with a note of finality. “Do not come back. If you try to use my influence to help yourself in any way, it will not be given. As of today, you have ceased being a member of this family. I am done letting you ruin your mother and me. You are dismissed.”

I stand there for several seconds. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to not understand? You will take the few belongings I am allowing you to have, and you’re leaving this house. We are finished with you, Zara. You have disgraced this family for the last time.”

“You’re kicking me out.” I don’t even phrase it as a question. It’s nothing but a breathed statement of disbelief. Instead of the person responsible, I’m the one who continues to suffer. Against my will, tears well in my eyes, and a single drop spills over to race down my cheek. I hate myself for shedding it.

---