Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
He must be the Wrecking Thorn then.
I watch him as he grows more and more frustrated and angrier and sweatier until I can hear grunts at the end of his breaths and the whistle of the ball flying through the air because he’s putting all his strength into it.
I watch and watch and forget why I came here in the first place. To tell them that my mother is married to a man named Jeremy Thorne and I think he’s their estranged father. Which means I’m their stepsister, and I want them to tell my mother what he did to them. So she’ll finally believe me that my stepfather is a piece of shit and leave him.
Prologue II
Ten Months Ago
My name is Jupiter Jones and I’m a stalker.
Believe me when I say that wasn’t my intention. I don’t think it’s anyone’s intention to become a stalker when they grow up. Most of the time you fall into it. Like for example, you see a cute guy at a coffee shop and you feel an instant connection. You’re too shy to approach him, so you watch him from afar. You follow him back to his apartment or his work. You notice how he interacts with people. You notice the things he likes, things he dislikes. You develop a strategy based on that. To make an approach. Just so you feel confident and not like you’re going to pass out just because he’s close.
I mean, there’s no harm in that, right? Conditions apply of course, but still.
In my case, it started when I was twelve. I saw him through his bedroom window and felt an immediate connection. I’ve always been lonely in my life, an outsider, and thought he was lonely too. Lonely, isolated, all alone in his own family. I thought I could watch him for hours, for days, and I did.
I watched him through his bedroom window as often as I could. I watched him around town. I watched him exercise in his backyard in the middle of the night. I watched him run through the streets early in the morning. I watched him party with his friends, be the center of attention, the guy they all thought promised a good time. I watched him fight with his twin brother, and then spend hours kicking around a soccer ball in his backyard, all angry and restless.
And when I couldn’t watch him in person, I watched him on TV. He’s a soccer superstar, captain of the New York City FC, and I’ve watched all his games. I’ve read articles about him. I’ve watched his interviews. I’ve watched him interact with his fans.
But I didn’t do any of that to make an approach. To develop a strategy or something similar. I watched because that’s all I can do. Because the guy I’ve been watching from afar for a little over eight years is my stepbrother.
Shepard Thorne.
Although I never imagined I’d have to watch him do this: propose to his girlfriend in the middle of a charity gala where I’m serving drinks.
I’d say his girlfriend—Isadora, her name—is the most surprised at finding him down on one knee, but it’s not her, it’s me. I’m the one that’s the most surprised. Actually, I’m the one that’s shocked. I’m even more shocked than I had been when I’d found out about their relationship a few months ago. I read about it on the internet; there was a video of them coming out of a dance club. Mostly because he’s not a relationship type of guy.
According to the headlines, he’s the bad boy of soccer. He’s a quintessential playboy, a party boy. He goes through girls like water, even faster than changing clothes. He’s dated models, celebrities, even fans, and he has a type. Tall and busty with gorgeous hair, someone utterly glamorous.
So when he got together with Isadora and people called it love at first sight, I was flabbergasted. I mean, she’s beautiful. In fact, I think she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever dated. She has flowing hair, pitch black and thick, and her skin has a natural tan that all girls die for. She is half-Indian, so maybe that explains her lovely skin tone. Not to mention, her almond-shaped eyes are so gorgeous. But he’s dated so many gorgeous girls that I didn’t know what was different about her.
But something obviously is, because they’ve been together almost a year now. Even so, I still can’t believe this is happening.
The tray full of champagne glasses in my hand is shaking. If I’m not careful, I’m going to drop it, and I’ll be fired on the first day of my new job. And I need this job. I need the money. If it’s anything in this world I need the most, it’s money. So yeah, looking away is a good idea. Actually, I should probably leave. For a few minutes, I mean. Just to get some air. Just to be away from the happy, congratulatory crowd. From the happy couple.