Page 57 of A Forgotten Promise

Before I think about it, I open my feed. It would be the first honest picture on there once I post it.

I stare at the display, considering what hashtag I should use, and before I realize, my fingers run across the screen.

My new home. From the outside, it looks like I’ve made it. It’s all beautiful. And it’s a lie.

All my life I’ve sold an illusion—the perfect face, the perfect body, the perfect life. The truth? For all the perfect I’ve lived, I have never felt more out of place than I do right now.

Am I the only one? We’re constantly told we need to be something more, something better, something impossible.

I’ve spent years making myself smaller to fit the world’s idea of beautiful, pushing myself to fit a mold. I’m exhausted. That kind of life is unattainable. And pretty damn lonely.

So this is me. No filter. No camera-ready look. Just me, sitting in a vast mansion, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do next.

Do we all feel this lost when the facade falls away? Or is it just me?

Wow. It feels good to write freely what goes through my mind.

But it feels really vulnerable to share that with the world, so I save it in drafts and go to my bed where the sleep doesn’t come.

Chapter 10

Corm

“We’re trending well thus far. Saar is good for your image. The events I scheduled over the next two months will improve your reputation. And with her by your side, people might buy it.” Betsy’s voice drills into my brain. Fuck, I hate this spiel.

“Anything else?” I growl.

“As pleasant as ever. I spoke with Xander, and so far Atlas and AetherTech are reserving their judgment—”

“Betsy, mind your own business. I’m paying you to fix my image, not to plot with my partners or check on my deals.”

“Oh, grow up. Your image is worth shit for you if those two don’t buy it. Or rather sell it to their boards. I investigated both men, and I think the activities I planned might be right up their alley. You’re now a huge supporter of an animal shelter, a cause close to Mrs. Hale. You’re also attending several charity galas that Cherynovski supports.”

Okay, maybe she knows what she’s doing. I look out of my car’s window. “Good job. I’m almost home, so if there isn’t—”

“When are you introducing Saar to your mother? We should make that a public appearance.”

Shit. My brother knows about the charade, and so does Saar’s family, but the idea of telling my mom the truth doesn’t sit well with me. Nor does the idea of lying to her.

Our relationship has been in limbo since the funeral, and I don’t want to face her until I sort out my feelings.

I’ve been so angry, channeling my feelings into a party bender, and now replacing it with the borderline bullying of my colleagues and Saar. Fuck, I need to get my shit together. If only I could confront Dad.

But lying to my mom’s face is not a bridge I’m ready to cross. “She hasn’t been feeling well, but I’ll schedule something.”

“She must be better, because she was at a luncheon about renewable energy today.”

I crack my neck. Fucking Betsy. Nothing happens in this town without her knowing. And since when is Mom interested in renewable energy?

“I got to go.” I hang up, done with the conversation. Before I introduce her to my mom, I need to make sure that Saar… What?

This shit is more complicated than I anticipated. On the one hand, she draws me with some invisible thread that attracts me to her. Makes her intriguing. Makes me want to peel off all her layers.

On the other hand, my future bride spits venom whenever in my vicinity. And I give her enough reasons; I’m not even sure why.

I thought playing with Saar van den Linden would be a great distraction from my recent problems. And there is the irrational but ever-so-present need to make her mine.

The challenge might not be worth it. The woman is attracted to me, and she hates me for it.

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