Taste of revenge

Chapter One

THIS STORY BELONGS VERONICA LANCET I DO NOT OWN ANY OF STORY ON HERE THIS ISNT MINES NONE OF IT IS THIS ALL BELONGS TO VERONICA LANCET NOT ME I DONT OWN ANYTHING RELATED TO THIS STORY OR WRITING

Noelle

"I 'm sorry about the inconvenience, officer," my brother tries to reason
with the men who'd arrested me, probably bribing them in exchange for
letting me go.
I turn my gaze to the floor, digging the heel of my shoe into the dirty
road and watching how a few ants surge out of the earth and scramble
around my foot. I hum a quiet melody as I keep my eyes on them, ignoring
my brother and the soon departing police cars.
"You really went and did it this time, Noelle," he says, exasperated, as
he reaches my side. "For God's sake, you could have killed yourself. You
don't even know how to drive!"
I raise my head to look at him, blinking. Once. Twice.
Then I resume my ant watching.
"Noelle!" He snaps, grabbing my hand and urging me to pay attention to
him. "Goddamn it, this is not what I signed up for," he mumbles under his
breath.
My fists clench by my side, my lips curling in annoyance.
Of course it's not what he signed up for. It never is.
"What do you want?" I finally ask, narrowing my eyes at him. My
throat is sore as I say the words, my voice that harsh sound that I'll never
get used to.
And it's all his fault.
"You promised mother you'd behave."
I shrug.
"Noelle, I can't help you if you don't help yourself."

"Who asked you?" I ask, my words bitter. "Go back to your wife and
leave me alone. It's the least you can do." I grit my teeth, stopping myself
from hurling all the insults crossing my mind.
"That's exactly the issue. I can't leave you alone," he sighs, leaning back
and placing his hands in his pockets. "Mother can't deal with you anymore,
and you can't be left to your own devices. Clearly," he mutters drily as his
gaze moves past me to the car currently stuck in a ditch.
"I'm twenty-two. I'm an adult." My eyes flash at him in protest.
"You might be an adult, but your medical file says you need
supervision."
It takes everything in me not to start screaming at him at the mention of
the medical file. Of course he'd hold that over my head, as if he weren't the
main culprit behind my condition.
"Whatever," I keep my tone in check. "Take me home."
I turn on my heel, going to the car he'd parked on the other side of the
road.
"Noelle," he calls out, but I don't listen. I just continue walking, sliding
into the passenger seat and waiting for him to take me home.
After all, there's nothing to be said between the two of us. Not that there
ever was.
"Damn it," he curses as he settles into the driver's seat, buckling his
seatbelt and resting his hands on top of the wheel.
"Some things need to change, Noelle. I can't gallivant around the city to
get you out of every trouble you get yourself into."
"No one asked you," I simply reply, my gaze distant.
"So that's it. You want to go to jail?"
"At least in jail I'll be my own person," I shrug.
"Fucking hell," he groans. "You know you're not well. You know that,
and you still pull stunts like this?" He shakes his head at me, his features
filled with disappointment.
Once upon a time, I might have cared.
Not now.
Not after everything that's happened.
I shrug.
"And whose fault is that?" I throw the jibe at him, reveling on the inside
at the way he blanches, his lips pursed, his entire countenance changed.

I know he feels guilty. And that's even worse. Because he'd known what
he was doing to me, but he'd done it anyway. For his fucking selfish
reasons.
Since I'd returned, he'd never even asked me what happened to me,
because if he knew—if he really knew—then he wouldn't be able to still
look me in the eye, or demand anything of me.
But that's just the thing. No one asked me. Everyone circles around the
issue, knowing that something's wrong, but not wanting to know exactly
what.
He doesn't reply as he clenches his hands over the wheel, steering the
car on the road and doing his best not to explode on me. His body language
tells me he's barely holding himself together and an instinctual sliver of fear
goes through me at the thought he might snap—truly snap.
"I talked to our mother," he says as we enter the city. "We've decided
that it's no longer a viable option for you to stay with her."
"What?" I whip my head around, surprised at his words.
"You can't blame her, can you? She's nearing her sixties, Noelle, and
since you've come back you've given her heart attack after heart attack. She
can't go on like this, wondering if the next time you act out you're going to
turn up into a body bag—or worse, not at all."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I frown.
"You're coming to live with us in the city. You'll go to your therapy
appointments and you will learn how to act like a fucking human being
again."
"Why, so you can sell me again?" I ask drily.
He doesn't answer my taunt, although I note the way his body is
teeming with unreleased tension.
"Why can't you just let me live? Why can't I have my own life?"
"Because you can't. Not only are you not mentally fit for that, but you
know that someone of your standing can never have a normal life." He
gives a dry laugh. "This might be the twenty-first century, and you might
have more freedoms than a lot of women before you, but you're still a
DeVille, Noelle. And that comes with dangers."
My lips stretch into a thin line as I turn to look at his profile. I know that
he's right, and that hurts even more. Because every little thing I do to rebel