The Heiress’s Revenge Chapter 03
I stepped around him to leave. He grabbed my wrist from behind.
“Listen to me. Greyson’s made his choice. Going up there now will only humiliate you worse.”
“Let go.” I tried to pull free. He held tighter.
My heel twisted in the struggle. I lost balance, fell backward. My spine hit a pillar, then I slammed onto my knees. A dull crack. Pain exploded through me.
Kieran froze. “You’ve had everything at Wentworth for three years. What does Skylar even have left?”
Jasper and Dax came over.
“What now?” Jasper, always the steady one, stared at my bruised knee. “Really, heiress? Self-harm for sympathy?”
Dax drawled from behind him. “Is there anything our Wentworth heiress wouldn’t do? Bet we’re all in that database. Resources for her climb to the top.”
Jasper pressed his fingers to his temple. “Thea. You’ve already taken everything from Skylar. She’s happy tonight. For once. Can you stop?” His voice went flat. “If you’re that desperate for attention, I’ll give you a waltz. Dignified enough?”
I pushed myself up. “Move.”
“Thea!” Jasper’s patience snapped. He seized my hand. “If Dax and I hadn’t pitied you, protected you—you’d be nowhere right now.”
I jerked back. He wrenched harder.
Crack.
A small, bright sound. Pain detonated from my wrist. I doubled over.
Jasper stiffened, staring at his own hand. “You—damn you.” His voice was tight. “That much force to break free. Just to chase a man?”
I clenched my jaw. Pressed my left hand against my screaming right wrist. Cold sweat slid down my temple, into my eyes. Stinging.
Dax’s smile held no warmth. “What a tragedy. Our Wentworth heiress has survived worse. This little scratch is nothing compared to what Skylar’s suffered.”
The pain whited out my vision. I looked at him and smiled.
“You’re right. It doesn’t hurt enough.”
I let go of my right wrist. The dislocated joint was swollen, gleaming. My forearm hung at a sick angle. A snapped branch.
Dax’s lazy smirk finally faltered. He looked away.
Jasper’s jaw tightened. “Wait here. I’ll get a doctor.”
“Don’t bother.” I pulled my mouth into a smile. “I don’t need the circle gossiping tomorrow—Wentworth heiress self-harms for sympathy. Besides. Isn’t this what you think I’m best at? The pity play?”
“Crazy.” Jasper bit the word out. “You and your damned dignity. Even when Skylar was burning up with fever, you were too busy playing hostess. Locked her in the media room. All for your cold-blooded ‘greater good.'”
His chest heaved. “That was Wentworth’s biggest charity fundraiser. Skylar wanted to ruin it. You could have explained. Said nothing. You always calculate. Your greater good always matters more than anyone else.”
He turned and walked.
Dax shook his head. “Thea. No one asked you to dance tonight. You had to do this to yourself?” His eyes were mocking. “Or… were you betting on who’d break first?”
I ignored him. Walked toward the back corridor.
The wind was brutal. I leaned against the wall, slid down. My left hand brushed the swollen joint of my right wrist. Pain wrenched through me.
This time, I didn’t let go.
The bones were still connected. The pain was still there.
That was enough.
***
Nine p.m. I got back to the house. My father was already waiting in his study.
“You saw tonight.” He poured a whiskey. “Greyson doesn’t want to marry you.”
I said nothing.
“Your grandfather’s getting old. Your marriage needs to happen fast.”
“You saw what happened. I just got my heart broken.” I met his eyes. “Marrying now, in this state—it’s unfair to everyone.”
He looked up. “What do you want, then?”
“Send me to the New York office. Three years. After that, I’ll marry whoever you want.”
“Three days. Your grandfather flies back from Palm Beach in three days. I need to see you married. You know the trust terms.”
“Fine.”
He said it like it meant something else.
Status didn’t matter. Looks, education—none of it. What mattered was picking someone who’d make Grandfather give up. Completely. No way he’d hand the inheritance to a granddaughter who’d tied her fortune to some husband’s name.
It had to be a top family. Rockwell’s equal. Or far from Boston.
But Greyson’s stance was clear. Without his nod, which family would dare cross Rockwell for me?