Renna Rose Lancaster is the girl people stare at like she belongs in a glass case, carved with angel-soft beauty, a life airbrushed into unattainable perfection. But Renna knows perfection is nothing but a golden prison, coated in pretty lies that k...
“My heart is so full of you, I can hardly call it my own.”
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The sky looked like it had been punched in the face—purple smudges spread across heavy grey, clouds swollen and ready to burst. The whole city was on the edge of a tantrum, holding its breath, waiting to either spit drizzle in your face or drown you outright.
The car slowed against the curb, tyres hissing on wet road. Neil’s hands, neat on the wheel, flicked the indicator off. Daddy’s seatbelt snapped open before the engine had even properly sighed to a stop, his movements clipped, impatient, leather gloves already pocketed like he was marching into Parliament.
I got out first. Boots clicked sharp against damp pavement, and the air smelt of stone and rain-soaked iron. My satchel slid against my hip. I tightened the strap, shoved my umbrella further into my bag, fingers brushing the smooth barrel of my lipstick that might as well have been contraband.
From the driver’s mirror, Neil leaned, catching my gaze with that soft, infuriating steadiness of his. His voice carried that gentle curl of France, honeyed and low.
“Courage, mademoiselle. Aujourd’hui, you begin your reign.” A beat, then softer, meant only for me: “Je suis là. Always. Wherever you need me.”
My chest pinched at that, a secret kind of ache. Neil always managed to speak to the me underneath the porcelain-doll façade Daddy polished.
If I could sneak you into the lecture hall, you’d clap the loudest when I finally learned how to breathe.
I let myself flash the quickest smile back at him, stolen, before Daddy’s shadow loomed, heavy hand pressing my back as if I were freight that might topple.
“Inside,” he ordered, voice brisk.
“I can—” My words tried to slip free, softer than air. “Daddy, I can go in on my own—”
“Nonsense.” He adjusted his cuffs without glancing. “It’s your first day. I’ll ensure matters are properly arranged.”
Of course. Properly arranged. Always.
Mama’s window whirred down just enough to reveal her grin. Sunglasses still perched on her nose, even though the sky looked seconds from spitting buckets. Mischief gleamed in her smile.
“You’ll be dazzling, baby,” she called out, wicked and singsong. “And if any of those freshers stare too long, you just tell them your mama’s hotter than theirs. Put them in their place.”
A laugh almost slipped, my lips twitching. “Mama…”
“No, no, don’t hush me. Listen.” She leaned, voice dropping into mock-conspiracy. “Remember last night’s chat? University’s not a convent buffet. It’s a whole bloody feast. Go taste everything. And I do mean everything. Boys included.”
