Renna Rose Lancaster is the girl people stare at like she belongs in a glass case, a life airbrushed into unattainable perfection.
But Renna knows her life is nothing but a golden prison coated in pretty lies that keep her muted and small.
Her day...
And I couldn't get enough, no matter how much of him I consumed.
He was potent and powerful and he ruined me. And I yearned to ruin.
I kept going back for more. I swear if I were to rip myself open, it wouldn't be blood that poured out of me. It would be him."
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So apparently, this is what humiliation looks like in broad daylight.
Me, standing outside Aadam Alaric Callahan's house like some tragic rom-com extra who didn't get the memo that the script ended last chapter.
Even the wind felt smug here. Seagulls screeched somewhere above, probably gossiping about the daft girl on the driveway holding enough food to feed a small village. The clouds hung low and silver, the kind that promised rain but delivered humidity instead.
My hair hated it.
My ego hated it.
My entire existence hated it.
I should have just stayed home.
But then came Eliana. Sweet, persuasive, impossible-to-say-no-to Eliana. She'd called Mama last night. Mama had smiled and said, "Darling, it's rude not to go when someone's mother invites you herself."
And here I was. Like a fool.
Invited by the mother.
Not the son.
The wicker basket handle dug into my wrist, heavy with my cooking.
Correction-the masterpiece stuffed pepper and leek bake by Ava Lancaster & her domestic army, presented by Renna Rose Lancaster, the impostor chef.
My tote was stuffed with sunscreen, make-up pouch, accessories, swimsuit, and a spare dress Isla swore would make me look like the main character of a Lana Del Rey music video.
I told her I'd rather die than dress like someone mid-heartbreak on a rooftop. She said that's exactly the vibe I give off lately.
She's not wrong.
I squared my shoulders, and walked up the marble steps. The glass doors reflected me-an image of someone dressed for a summer she didn't believe in.
