Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Aries Hayes. Golden child. Heir apparent. Beloved son.
The thought alone makes bile rise in my throat.
The suits hang in perfect alignment in the room I set up as my bedroom. It was never meant to be permanent, but now, when I think about having to leave, it breaks something open in my chest. The closet is fully outfitted. Not that I’ve needed it much lately, too busy here with Aries and Lilian than out there working to bring down the Hayes empire. Twenty identical suits, each one hand-tailored to Aries’s former measurements, which are mine now.
Perfect replicas for a perfect replica.
I select one at random, the dark charcoal material smooth under my fingers. Expensive. Quality. Everything the Hayes name represents.
The white shirt feels like a straitjacket as I button it. The collar is too tight despite being custom-made. The tie—crimson, like freshly spilled blood—knots perfectly around my neck. The jacket settles on my shoulders like armor.
The mirror reflects a stranger. A man wearing my face but not my identity. This is the polished, sanitized version of me that never existed. This is the version that never could exist. Not after what I’ve been through. Or what I’ve done.
I tug the jacket sleeves into place, and the material bunches around my elbows, scraping across the scars there. The sensation shoves me into the memory before I can stop it. Nylon straps holding me to a hard bed, the nurses’ equally hard eyes as they watched my face while they dosed me with whatever experimental cocktail it would be that time. That version, that time, sent me into convulsions so hard I almost bit off my own tongue. Pain rolled through me in white-hot waves until I succumbed to the darkness afterward.
Sometimes that darkness was my only solace.
I tug the jacket again, reminding myself why I’m doing this, and survey my reflection one more time.
Is this what I would have become if Richard hadn’t discarded me? This hollow shell of a man, perfectly dressed, perfectly empty?
I bare my teeth at the reflection, momentarily shattering the illusion. There’s the real me—the feral thing lurking beneath the tailored suit. The monster they created when they locked me away and erased my existence.
It feels wrong to be doing this, to be stepping back into the role while Lilian is in danger. She might be hurt, scared, and wondering where I am and why I haven’t come for her.
But this is the only way forward. The only way to maintain the facade long enough to bring the whole rotten empire crashing down.
The drive to Hayes headquarters is a blur of city lights and racing thoughts. The sleek Range Rover—Aries’s car, now mine—purrs beneath me, another prop in this elaborate performance.
The Tower rises from the downtown skyline like a middle finger to modesty and restraint. Sixty-eight floors of steel and glass, crowned with the illuminated “H” that’s become synonymous with power in this city. Not as solid as Drew’s empire, but close. Drew’s family went straight for the money. Mine…straight for politics. Power. From certain angles, it looks like a knife stabbing into the sky. I smile as I think about Richard only managing to keep a floor of it in recent years. His power has steadily waned.
Fitting for a family built on backstabbing.
The underground parking garage recognizes the car’s RFID, and the barriers automatically lift as I approach. Aries’s designated spot waits near the private elevator—close enough to be convenient for the heir apparent, but not as close as Richard’s. Another small reminder of the hierarchy and who really matters.
The elevator requires a thumbprint, which should be a problem but isn’t. I secured a card when an “accident” scarred my fingers so they don’t register right anymore. The phantom pain rises, but I squash it down.
As the elevator rises, my stomach drops in inverse proportion. Forty-eight floors up to the executive level. Forty-eight floors closer to the man who threw me away like garbage.
The doors slide open silently, revealing the reception area to Richard’s office suite—all marble and muted lighting, designed to intimidate visitors while appearing welcoming. Corporate doublespeak translated into interior design.
“Mr. Hayes.” The receptionist—young, attractive, carefully selected—smiles with professional warmth. “Your father is expecting you. Go right in.”
Of course he is. Richard Hayes is always expecting something—obedience, excellence, submission. He’s spent a lifetime training Aries to provide all three on command.
Too bad he’s getting me instead.
I straighten my tie, a gesture I’ve seen Aries perform countless times in the footage I studied before taking his place. A nervous tell, one of many I’ve cataloged and replicated. The small details that sell the performance.
Richard’s office door looms ahead, heavy wood imported from some endangered forest somewhere. Because nothing says success like consuming things that can’t be replaced.
I don’t knock. Aries wouldn’t. The entitled don’t announce themselves.