Broken Beauty (#1, Broken Beauty Novellas)

Chapter Three

Just past midnight, I escape the hospital into the back of one of Daddy's cars. I don't lower the hood on my sweatshirt until I'm seated in the backseat. Even then, I shrink away from the tinted window.

We drive by the front of the hospital. It looks like a zoo. Press members have staked out the hospital, and there's police tape marking off the area while cops guide traffic around the crowd. I want to go back to the hospital room and hide in the bathroom. The back of the large car feels too big.

I've never liked Shea, but she knows how to do her job. She got me out of there without one single reporter figuring out how I'd be leaving.

"Where's Daddy?" I ask her. She's sitting in the front passenger seat.

"Someone on your floor leaked pictures of you. He's currently meeting with the head of The Left Observer to keep your face out of the garbage papers in grocery store checkout stands."

Distraught, I pull my hood up again, more comfortable with it on, and hunch into a corner of the backseat. The drive to Daddy's Virginia home is long and dark. I'm dozing by the time we get there, and I'm not surprised to see more paparazzi in front of the house. I tug my hood forward and hunch as flashes of cameras go off. The gate opens so slowly, but we finally make it through.

"I can't leave the house!" I say, near tears again.

"Your public personality has been elevated," Shea replies calmly. "I'm addressing it."

"Addressing it? To fix it?"

"Time might fix this. Or it might not. Like celebrities that explode overnight. Some fade away, and some don't. We're going to put you into the speech circuit when you're healed in a few weeks. You've lived through something that will make female voters relate to you and sympathize with –"

I feel sick at her words. I block them out. My whole life, I've largely avoided the spotlight. My half-sister – Daddy's favorite – loves the attention. Everyone is happy when she's in the spotlight and I'm hiding out with Ari.

Shea's cell rings. She's not on the phone long, but it's long enough to keep her from harping at me about the speech circuit until the car stops in front of the door.

"Mia, to-" Shea starts.

I open the car door to dash into the front of the house. I've seen pics of my sister making out with her fiancé in front of the house in newspapers; I know the paparazzi can still see us. Paul, the butler, opens the door and I hurry in, not relaxing until I'm in the middle of the grand foyer.

"Mia!" Shea follows. "Tomorrow morning, first thing, we're having a press conference."

"I don't care about Daddy's schedule!" I shout at her. I peel off my hoodie and sling it over the banister of the marble staircase as I go as fast as my stiff ankle will let me towards my room.

"Mia, you are going to give a statement to the press!"

Her words stop me. The vision of me in the mirror flashes back.

"Your daddy's ... negotiations failed with the paper. The only way to take the steam out of this is to strike first. Your daddy wants to release the pictures from the hospital in the morning, and for you to give a statement. It's a brilliant –"

"Where the fuck is he, Shea?" I scream at her. "My own daddy wouldn't come to see me in the hospital! I was raped and beaten, and he can't come to the hospital? If it had been Molly, he would've been there in a second!"

I haven't taken my evening painkillers, and my body is killing me. I start crying again, making my eye and head hurt more. Shea is staring at me in surprise. I hobble up the stairs to my room and slam the door.