Page 1 of Attorney Privilege
Chapter One
EMERSON
It’s a petty thing to do, but I only have small ways to rebel. If my mother wants to drive me insane, I’ll do it right back, and we can both be miserable together. Still, I cringe when I hear my name screeched across the garden.
“What?” I call back as I finish pruning the rose bush.
“You come when I call you.” I mouth the words at the same time she says them. If my mother is anything, it’s predictable.
“Coming,” I shout as I stand and brush the dirt off my knees.
“Are you freaking serious right now, Emerson? You know we are about to leave, and that’s a two-thousand-dollar vintage Chanel dress.”
How could I possibly forget the meeting with a lawyer about my prenup? So romantic. I’m wondering why I don’t get my own lawyer instead of using Conner, but I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I have anything to my name. Everything belongs to my parents.
“Really?” I scrunch my nose as I look down at my dress. I mean, it’s not hideous. It’s minty green, but it does have a cute collar. It’s something my mother referred to as a tea dress, but I think it looks like something a doll would wear. “It doesn’t even have pockets.”
“Go wash your hands.” She sighs and rolls her eyes. “The driver is here.”
The driver has a name, and it’s Charlie, but I doubt she cares. My mother is worried about more important things than the people that work for her.
“Fine,” I concede.
What choice do I really have when my parents control my life? Though I’m not sure my mother would agree with my feelings on the matter, because if she did, then I wouldn't be playing in the dirt.
“I swear, I’m going to have this whole garden removed.”
My stomach sinks at her words, but I’m careful not to respond. Partly because she’s already walking away, and I’m losing the garden either way. Seeing it ripped out after all the years of work I put into it would break my heart. This place is my sanctuary and the small bit of freedom I’ve been allowed. Out here the space is open, and I can breathe. The walls aren’t closing in on me like they do when I’m with them.
When I get inside, Mason gives me an apologetic look. When I move out, I’m going to miss him the most. I mimic the over-dramatic eye-roll my mother always does to him, making him smirk. It’s our thing to do imitations of her behind her back. It’s one thing he does that always makes me smile.
While washing my hands in the kitchen sink, I contemplate for the millionth time whether I could escape. I’m not sure where I’d go since I might be the poorest rich person in the world. Is that a thing?
I’m surrounded by wealth that some people dream of, and although my basic needs are met, if I walked out the door, I’d have nothing and nowhere to go. I don’t even have a freaking ID or know where my Social Security card or birth certificate are. Hell would freeze before my mother would hand any of it over to me.
We live outside the city, so I’d have to walk forever to make it anywhere. With all the true crime podcasts I listen to, kidnapping seems like a possibility. I assume that’s what happens to every girl walking alone on an empty road. Still, if I made it to the city, then what? I guess I could sleep on a bench.
“I told you we were leaving,” my mother snaps.
“Sorry.” I dry my hands, and when I turn around, she snatches the towel from me.
“There is dirt on your face.” She rubs it against my cheek roughly, and I try to pull back.
“Ouch.”
“Stop being dramatic.” Her eyes move over me from head to toe. "Where is the ring?"
Oh, crap. That’s a good question. Where is the ring? I don’t know because I'm always taking it off. I hate the dang thing. It's gaudy and snags on everything. It's also a reminder that I am days away from marrying Conner.
He’s also a reminder that if I walk out the door, I'd be royally screwed. I'm utter shit at reading people, and he provides all the proof I need. At one time I didn't think he was a total cheating jerk, but boy was I wrong.
"In my room?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?" My mother can’t seem to hide her irritation.
"I'll be right back." I step around her and hurry and go get it, but the rug catches my heel, and I almost faceplant. Luckily I catch myself on the counter before I do, and I hear my mother’s disapproval behind me.
"Those classes clearly aren't worth the money." She huffs and stomps past me. "Meet me in the car. We won't keep people waiting just because you're behaving like a silly little girl."
