Page 18 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

However, one mistake on my part, and I’m finished.

Lenora exhales heavily, glances around before coming toward me, and hooks her arm in mine, dragging me to the door while murmuring, “Snap out of it, Briseis. You aren’t a kid anymore.” I jerk in her hold, my mind instantly flashing images one after another from that night where I stumbled on Ava’s leg and spilled my drink on a guest standing nearby. Grandmother locked me in the basement for three days with several bottles of water but no food as a punishment.

Lenora shakes my arm, bringing me back to the present, and I muster up a smile, hating my weakness in this moment. I’m twenty-one years old; I should be more… not sure what… but more.

If my best friend had been my grandmother’s granddaughter… she would have never caved under any of her orders or pressure.

And this knowledge only makes me hate myself more, oddly finding strength in this hate too. No one changes without sacrifices.

Focus on the goal.

Determination replaces the fear, and I straighten my back. They all should see a confident woman in front of them who will stop at nothing in order to get her freedom from this demonic family. “You’re right. Let the show begin.” I lean closer and whisper before walking into the common room, “Stay clear of Clare and the evil sisters.” She nods, puts her hand on my back, and ushers me inside, where I enter with loud clicks of my heels and notice several people sitting on the couches, mostly the elderly drinking scotch.

I nod in greeting at a few of them who raise their gazes to me, then quickly stroll toward the dance area where most of the guests are. I almost gasp in awe when I drink in the beauty around me.

The party room has transformed into a magical place with the chandelier shining brightly. The moonlight streaming from several huge windows adds to the atmosphere, almost inviting one to stand under it, awaiting Prince Charming. An open terrace door lets a light breeze inside, enough to cool heated skin and a dizzy-from-alcohol mind.

Several tables are spread with food and drink while servers continue to roam around, offering glasses to anyone who is willing, while a band plays on the stage, every note on their classical instruments so precise and clean, heaven for the ears.

Women wear expensive dresses, with heavy necklaces and earrings. The men are outfitted in tailored suits.

All thoughts vanish from my mind though when I find my half-sisters and their mother watching me from the right corner, sipping champagne. And though they mask it well from others, I don’t miss their hatred, the way it slowly slides through me as if they want to stab an invisible knife into me, and nothing short of my death will be satisfying enough for them.

I walk to them, grabbing a glass of my own on the way, giving a fleeting smile to one of the servers before finally reaching them. “Hello, ladies,” I say softly, since people might listen to our conversation. Most of them are still figuring out who I am.

Clare waves to someone behind my back, the grin on her mouth so wide I wonder if it hurts her, then addresses her daughters. “Girls, be nice. A lot is at stake here.” She goes toward the person she waved to, completely ignoring me, and I hold back the bitter laughter wanting to slip past my lips.

Clare decided to go back to her status quo, ignoring my entire existence and hiding her head in the sand. Beside that one time she screamed her throat out at Dad for bringing me to his house, she never spoke about me or to me. It’s like I stood behind a wall, being invisible to her.

When I got beaten down, she left the room, shutting the door loudly, and whenever I winced in pain, she’d peacefully read the paper.

Clare hasn’t been an evil stepmother or a good one; she was just there and always did nothing. And somehow, sometimes doing nothing is more catastrophic than taking action.

I never blamed her for such behavior. I imagine no wife would have been pleased to discover their husband cheated and brought the product of said cheating into the house.

It didn’t stop my resentment though; a little kindness or motherly love toward me wouldn’t have killed her.

Children always pay for the sins of their father, a universal truth I learned at a very young age, even when the father is forgiven of his crimes.

I take a large sip, enjoying how the cooling liquid slides down my throat and washes away my hectic emotions.

Addison opens her mouth, flipping her hair back. “Hey, Briseis.” Ava nods at me too, her brows furrowing while the hatred in her eyes flashes so strong I step back a little but mentally prepare myself for the next blow.

Which is why I almost choke on my drink when Ava says, “The old bitch invited half the ton, yet daddy dearest is still not here.” She chuckles, drumming her fingers on the glass. “Oh, she’ll be pissed.”

Addison clinks her glass with Ava’s, laughing, and quickly covers her mouth with her palm. “He’ll be apologizing for eternity.”

“She might even hit him with the cane.”

“Amen to that.”

Two perfect daddy’s girls… saying all this?

Why?

And since when did their favorite grandma who doted on them their entire childhood become an old bitch?

They have zero reasons to have any resentments compared to me.

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