“Those other kids failed because their parents let them,” she’d tell me, her carmine lips twisted into a smug smirk. “If it wasn’t for me and how hard I’ve pushed you, you would be just like them.”
I had comforted myself for a time with the idea that she was only that hard on me because we were broke. We were the kind of broke that nobody liked to talk about—lower middle-class, just poor enough to scrape by, but somehow too wealthy to qualify for any kind of assistance. My father had walked out on her when I was just a baby, and for years I told myself that his abandonment and the way the system has spurned her had made her feel like if she didn’t teach me to rely on myself—and only on myself—then I would fall to the same fate. She didn’t want that for me, I always thought. She just chose to show it in a cold and hurtful way.
That illusion had shattered three months ago when my mother had announced her engagement to Charles Harvey, the billionaire CEO of Harvey Enterprises. I had no idea what their business actually entailed, but whatever it was, it brought him more money than God, and as my mother was oh-so-quick to inform me, I wasn’t entitled to a penny of it.
“I didn’t raise you to be a leech,” she’d told me when I’d said that it would be nice not to have to worry about money for a change. I hadn’t meant that I intended on blowing it on some kind of shopping spree. I’d always wanted to finish my college degree, and work was getting in the way…
That didn’t matter to her.
Her scowl had sent chills down my spine and twisted my guts into knots. “You’re not an infant, Madison. You’re an adult. That means you make your own way in this world.” She’d looked so devastatingly disappointed as she added, “I thought I’d taught you better than that.”
In my anger, I’d asked her what, exactly, I would have to do to be worthy of a little help every now and then. It felt like she’d punched me right in the face when she answered, “Marry rich.”
I’d realized then that my mother had never had my best interests in mind. My father leaving hadn’t made her protective of me. It had made her protective of herself. It had made her selfish and cruel, and I hadn’t spoken to her since.
Which was why I couldn’t call her now. I couldn’t dial her number and say, “Mom, I need help.” She wouldn’t give it. I doubted if she would even bother to answer the phone.
As usual, I was on my own.
I was still trying to achieve a stiff upper lip when I let go of the parking meter and set off down the sidewalk in the direction of home. Unfortunately, the moment I did, I barreled straight into a man who’d had the misfortune of stepping between me and my downward spiral.
His chest was so hard under his button-down shirt that I was sure he’d broken my jaw, but the material of his blazer was so soft that it felt like I’d landed on a cloud. It was silken, almost, and as I gently pressed it with my fingers, tilting back my head to look up at who I’d just assaulted, I felt his breath hitch at my touch.
As the halo of the sun faded behind a cloud, I got a good look at the stranger’s face. My throat clenched and I uttered a sound that was half a snort, half a wheeze.
“Preston? Seriously?”
“Maddy,” he said, his stormy blue eyes glittering as he spoke my name. “Well, this is a surprise…”
I wanted to tell him to fuck off. I wanted to push him away and sweep past him in a fit of disgust. I wanted to walk so fast down the sidewalk that I left all memory of him in my wake, a spoiled brat who got absolutely everything his heart desired while I couldn’t even manage to convince my own mother to keep me off the streets.
But I couldn’t do any of that. Instead, to my shame and horror, I buried my face in his expensive blazer and cried.
I stood on the sidewalk, frozen in place as Madison Hearst cried into my chest, her delicate shoulders racked by the sobs stealing from her throat. I wasn’t used to hanging out with a lot of crying women, but I knew enough to know that these weren’t tears of pain or sorrow. These were hot, angry tears, tears of rage and frustration held in so long that the damn had burst, and now they had to come spilling out.
I grimaced before gently placing my arms around her. I’d shed a few of those kind of tears myself in my life, and it seemed like offering her the comfort I’d always been denied was the right thing to do, no matter how awkward it might look to the people surrounding us.
It wasn’t just that Maddy was crying, though I was certain that was strange enough on its own. What really made me feel like a spectacle was the fact that we were brother and sister—or at least, we would be in just a few short weeks.
My miserable fuck of a father was marrying Madison’s shrew of a mother. They may have deserved each other, but I held onto the opinion that neither Maddy nor I deserved either one of them. It rendered us stepsiblings, which I had assumed would count for something, but up until this moment, I’d been one hundred percent sure that Madison hated my guts.
Everything she’d ever done had practically screamed it. She looked at me with nothing but disdain, and each time I entered a room with her in it, the temperature dropped at least two degrees. She only offered me curt, clipped responses whenever I tried to strike up a conversation, and that was only if she chose to speak at all. I wasn’t certain what I’d done to deserve her ire, but whatever it was, I’d been under the impression that there was just no reversing it.
As a result, I’d given up on having any kind of relationship with my soon-to-be stepsister. And who could blame me? Yet here we were, locked in an embrace on the sidewalk of a busy street—and in broad daylight, no less.
Something had to be wrong. I knew she’d worked in some kind of office nearby, but was she coming to see me? If she was, something had to be seriously wrong. It occurred to me that it could have something to do with one—or both—of our parents.
My breath caught in my throat, but before I could ask, she lifted her face again and said, “I lost my job.”
I looked down at her, noticing for the first time how very green her eyes were. If she were any other woman I probably would have been looking straight down the neckline of her blouse, but something about Maddy’s face had always struck me as celestial, angelic. That wasn’t to say I didn’t appreciate her womanly body, those supple curves that made me wish our parents had never met the very first time I’d seen her... It only meant that those rare and beautiful eyes were the most breathtaking pair I’d ever seen.
Which was saying something, because I’d looked into the eyes of a lot of women.
I didn’t tell her that. All I could think of to say that didn’t sound incredibly stupid was, “I’m sorry.” And then, as soon as those words left my mouth, I realized that they did sound incredibly stupid. No wonder she hated me.
But instead of fixing me with that frigid stare she’d inherited directly from her mother, Maddy shook her head and said, “Don’t be. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault…”
That thousand-yard stare she was sporting made me uneasy. I didn’t know a lot about her job, except that she’d worked as an administrative assistant for some rental company, but I got the impression that Maddy definitely didn’t have a lot of money. She’d never said as much, but her mother sure as hell had implied it. It was almost as if that woman wanted her daughter to fail, like she got no greater joy in life than watching Maddy flounder. It seemed a little wrong when she was spending her days milking my father for every dollar he was worth.
I shifted uncomfortably. Maddy suffered a hardship I’d never known. I came from money, and lots of it. In fact, if it weren’t for being the sole heir to the Harvey fortune, I wouldn’t have had to work a day in my life. But Dad insisted, and when he made his mind up about something, there was no changing it—not even if it made everyone else around him miserable.