Page 2 of A Fate Everlasting

He slid a brochure across the table. My fingers trembled as I picked it up. A school blanketed in mist and ivy loomed above a set of iron gates. Two Latin words were printed at the bottom ofthe front page.Ante-Post. “Evermore is located in Devon. A rural county in the South West of England.”

England. My parents had studied there, once. But I had spent my entire life vowing never to trace their steps, never to follow the breadcrumb trail of obsession they left behind. People admired them, their brilliance, their devotion. But I knew the truth hidden beneath all that reverence. Passion takes. It hollows. I needed to understand what I was walking into.

“I won’t go.” The words snapped out of me, but they tasted like a lie. My parents knew me all too well. I needed that inheritance. This wasn’t a choice, not really. “They can’t do this.”

He offered a faint shrug. “Their will is ironclad, amended only weeks ago. This is what they wanted.” Weeks ago?

“Is there an explanation?” I stared down at the pamphlet. Evermore’s students looked strange. Too polished. Too perfect. Edited. Why this place? Why now? “A letter? Anything?”

“No,” the executor shook his head. “But that’s not unusual. Their accident was quick, people don’t often have time to update their paperwork.”

“I see,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “And you don’t find it unusual the will was updated right before they died?”

“Weeks before,” the executor corrected. “No, not really.”

I blew air through my nose and sunk back into the dining chair, flipping through my phone contacts. I needed help, I neededadvice.I didn’t want to leave here.

“You should consider yourself lucky,” the executor said after clearing his throat. “Evermore is selective. Only the exceptional are allowed to enroll.”

“Exceptional,” I echoed, the word bitter on my tongue. I was anything but.

I typed the nameEvermoreinto my phone. Nothing.

He muttered quickly, stringing words together as I scrolled.I barely caught most of them. “…placement testing… tailored classes… Headmistress Cavendish…”

“I have no other options?” I set my phone down.

“It’s Evermore, or the trust is sealed.” He leaned closer. “Between you and me, I’ve seen stuff like this play out before. This is a chance for your parents to guide you after they’ve passed on, and that’s pretty special.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. But there was something soft behind the black of the executor’s eyes.

Something scraped down my spine in warning. I’d felt it a few times before, then again the night of the accident. That psychic tug I’d felt since childhood. The Thread. It had always been there, a whisper beneath my ribs, a presence in my bones. It had told me not to follow my parents the night they died. Now I felt that same pulling, clawing insistence. “Run.”

The executor shuffled his papers, unfazed, but I felt it. The air shifted, thick and pressing. The walls felt closer. He slid the contract forward, asking for the signature that would steal nearly four of the most valuable years of my life, followed by a photo. “This is the family that runs Evermore. They will become your legal proxies. Until graduation, they control the trust.”

I snatched the photograph. It was of the Cavendish family, the back said. Verrine, Godwin and their son,Dorian. The glossy paper was ice cold, the ink printed too sharp. Their smiles had too many teeth.

The executor pushed the contract forward again, impatient, the line for my signature stark and waiting. I wanted to tear it up, but I couldn’t lose everything, as well as my parents. The scratch of ink was too loud as I signed, each letter carved with a fury I didn’t know where to put.

“Be ready at eight,” the executor said, standing. “I’ve forwarded you the details. I will arrive to escort you.”

“Is that usual?” My brows rose. The executor didn’t answer the question, simply turned and started toward the entrance hall.

I felt a chill crawl up my neck again, the Thread.“You’ve made a grave mistake,”it whispered. I bit into my cheek until the taste turned metallic.

“Excuse me, um…” I called after him in a voice too small. His arrival had drawn attention to the gaping solitude, and I wasn’t sure I could be alone again. “Sir. Is there any chance this is some kind of mistake? My parents, they promised to support me at LADA as I said and?—”

I tried to steady my bottom lip, though I knew it was shaking.

“You’ll be well taken care of,” he said with a curt nod, folding his hands over the briefcase. Then, so softly I almost didn’t catch it, “As long as you don’t break the rules. Do not leave this house until I come to fetch you. Is that clear?”

“So I’m not allowed goodbyes, either?”

He didn’t respond, and I trailed him to the door in agonizing silence. He turned back once, genuine emotion, or perhaps a practiced effort at it, crossed his face. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” He cleared his throat again, drawing his arms across his chest. “It’s oddly cold for Malibu in March, don’t you think?”

As quickly as he had arrived, he was gone. I sat there for a moment after the door slammed shut, the sound ringing in my ears.

But I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts again for too long. Lily was at the top of my call log. It rang three times before she picked up, the wait an eternity.

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