Page 3 of Ensnared
"You can't talk that way," Mom hissed. "We're guests of the Ashworth family."
I turned to face her fully, suds dripping from my hands. "Mom, they take advantage of you and Dad," I insisted, my voice low but intense.
From the small living room off the kitchen came a loud snort. Dad, half-asleep in his armchair, seemed to agree even inhis slumber. The sound hung in the air between us, a silent testament to the truth we all knew but rarely spoke aloud.
I turned back to the sink, my voice barely audible over the gentle splash of water. "You know it's true. Maybe by next year we'll be away from here."
The words hung in the air, heavy with hope and desperation. I scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot on a plate, my mind wandering to thoughts of Logan and me, finally free from the Ashworths' clutches.
The Ashworths. Their name alone was enough to make my skin crawl. They owned most of Windmere Haven, their influence seeping into every nook and cranny of our little town. What they didn't outright possess, they had their fingers in. I hated it with every fiber of my being.
I rinsed the last dish, my movements slow and deliberate as I considered our options. The dream of leaving, of never looking back, was intoxicating. But even as I entertained the thought, a bitter reality settled in my gut. Even if we managed to scrape together enough to move to Manhattan, the Ashworths' long reach would still cast its shadow over us.
I dried my hands on a dishtowel, turning to face my mother. Her eyes met mine, and I saw my own weariness reflected there. "Mom," I began, my voice low and urgent, "we can't keep living like this. There has to be a way out."
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a sharp knock at the door made us both jump. My heart raced as I wondered who could be calling at this hour – and whether they had overheard our whispered rebellion.
Chapter 2
The sharp rap at the door jolted my father awake. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as we stood frozen, exchanging worried glances. Visitors were a rarity for us, especially at this hour. Logan and I had few friends in town, and my parents' social circle was non-existent. As I moved towards the door, my father's hand shot out, stopping me.
"I got it," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.
We huddled behind him as he swung the door open, revealing Orville, Colson's butler. My stomach churned at the sight of him. The man's very presence exuded an air of superiority that made my skin crawl.
"Orville, what can I do for you?" my father asked, his tone cautiously polite.
Silence stretched between them as Orville wordlessly extended a thick cream envelope which my father took. My name was scrolled across it in elegant calligraphy, and I felt my frown deepen. Without a word, Orville dusted his white-gloved handsand turned on his heel, striding across our modest lawn towards the looming Ashworth mansion.
As my father closed the door, he balanced the envelope on his palm as if it might bite him. The weight of it seemed to fill our small entryway with an oppressive tension.
"Why is my name on that?" I asked, unable to keep the worry from my voice. My eyes were fixed on the envelope, my mind racing with possibilities – none of them good.
I reached out with trembling fingers but hesitated before touching it. "Nothing good can come from the Ashworths," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. "I don't want whatever's inside."
My mother moved closer, peering over my shoulder. "Maybe it's not what you think, Joey," she said softly, but I could hear the doubt in her voice.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Only one way to find out," I muttered, finally grasping the envelope. As I broke the red wax seal with the scrolly A, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was inside would change everything – and not for the better.
With shaking hands, I tore at the paper to get to the contents inside the envelope. Two pieces of heavy paper slipped out – an ornate invitation and a folded note. My eyes scanned the invitation, and I felt the blood drain from my face.
"No," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "This can't be happening."
My parents crowded around me, their faces etched with concern. "Joey, what is it?" my mother asked, her hand on my shoulder.
I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "It's... it's an invitation to a soiree at the Ashworth mansion. But it's not just any party." I paused, the words sticking in my throat. "They've chosen me as one of the potential fiancées for Colson. He's going to interview each of us and make his decision. This Saturday."
The silence that followed was deafening. My father's face darkened with anger, while my mother's eyes widened in shock.
"Absolutely not," my father growled, reaching for the invitation. "You're not going, Joey. We won't allow it. I’ll speak with him. This can’t happen."
But as he spoke, I unfolded the note that had accompanied the invitation. My hands trembled as I read the words, each one feeling like a nail in my coffin.
"It's not that simple," I said, my voice hollow. "They say my presence is mandatory. If I don't show up..." I trailed off, looking up at my parents with fear in my eyes. "There will be consequences. Not just for me, but for all of us."
My mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "He can't do this," she whispered, but we all knew the truth. The Ashworths could do whatever they wanted. She almost seemed like she was in pain.
I crumpled the note in my fist, a mixture of fear and rage coursing through me. "What choice do we have?" I asked, my voice breaking. "If I don't go, they'll destroy us. But if I do..."
