I didn’t know what the future held, but my options were limited. I wished I had someone to talk to, someone to confide in and ask questions of. I wished my parents were here, wished I had friends who were genuine and cared about how I felt or what I thought. But I was alone. Utterly and totally by myself.

  And it was time to grow up.

  Chapter 4

  Persephone

  I was pretty sure this was what it felt like if you were to jump out of an airplane without a parachute.

  I looked at Henry, my father’s attorney, as he scanned over the legal forms I’d been given last night.

  I didn’t miss how he cleared his throat several times or how he lifted his hand and loosened his tie, as if it were too tight.

  The silence that stretched out between us was thick and suffocating. I watched the grandfather clock in the dining room, which was where I’d spoken with Henry about all of this. My father’s study—where even more of my life had been turned upside down in the last twenty-four hours—was the last place I wanted to conduct this.

  And then the image of Hades slammed into my mind.

  I closed my eyes and breathed out as that familiar chill raced along my arms. He’d been like a ghost in my life. His presence was very much felt, yet completely unseen.

  Henry pulled his shoulders back. I focused on him once more, holding my breath for what he was about to say.

  I started rubbing my hands together, and suddenly, my nerves were so high I was almost licking the ceiling. “So, what’s the verdict?” I offered a tight smile.

  “It’s all legal.” His brows lowered. “I’ll be honest.” He took his tortoise shell glasses off and rubbed his eyes before slipping them back on. “I’m not sure how any of this is legal, but Judge Martin Wilcox signed it.”

  I made a note to search for who this judge was when I was alone.

  I closed my eyes and cleared my mind. “So I really have nothing? No home, not even a penny until my twenty-first birthday?” I opened my eyes and stared at Henry. “If my father had nothing and was in debt, where did the inheritance come from?”

  “I’m sorry.” Henry gave me an empathetic smile. “It’s true your father had secured a substantial amount of debt. But Hades was correct that your mother had sequestered away funds and put them in an account that only you can access.”

  I nodded, unable to speak as I listened and let it all sink in.

  “So as far as all of your father’s properties and personal possessions…” He let those words hang between us. “All will be liquidated.”

  “What about his portion of the business he shares with my grandfather and uncle?”

  Henry shook his head. “There are safety nets in place for enterprises as large as Cronus to protect it. And your father’s share of it reverted to your grandfather.” He watched me, his glasses sliding a fraction along the bridge of his nose.

  I looked down at my hands, which I’d curled into fists tight enough the pain of my nails made itself known. “What am I supposed to do?” I looked up at Henry.

  I didn’t know him, aside from the few times he’d come to the house to discuss things with my father. But right now, he was the only friendly face in my life.

  “Where am I supposed to live?” I refused to acknowledge the part of the legal forms about me being given to Hades.

  The silence in the office was heavy. It was hot and stifling, and I couldn’t breathe suddenly. My chest started rising and flailing frantically. I tried to get some much-needed oxygen into my lungs.

  The room spun although I was sitting, and I clenched my hands around the armrests, my palms sweaty and sliding on the smooth wood.

  “How did my father lose all his money?” My voice sounded like it echoed in my ears, but I was proud of myself for not shaking and keeping my composure. As much as I could, anyway.

  I felt the rush of adrenaline moving through my veins, my throat tightening, my pulse racing. It would be so easy to just break down. How was someone supposed to be strong in the face of death?

  “Those aren’t things you need to worry about. Just know that although things look bleak right now, Mr. Cronus has offered you a solution.”

  I didn’t like the tone of Henry’s voice, as if he just expected me to give in so easily. Maybe he saw my expression change and those thoughts filter across my expression because he exhaled wearily and clasped his hands on top of the table.

  “You’ll be taken care of. And that’s what your parents would’ve wanted. They wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer. It’s why your mother set up the trust.” He gave me a small but genuine smile. “I’m sure if they knew things would’ve ended so quickly for them, they would’ve had different safety nets in place. But as it is, these are your options, Persephone. And as your father’s attorney and your advisor, I would strongly suggest you consider taking them.”

  With a tight, sympathetic smile, Henry promptly left, and I sat there at the dining room table, just staring at the paperwork. He’d spread them out and highlighted the parts I was to sign. Although he’d gone through every sheet, making sure I understood every single point written, I was still so very confused.

  I picked up the pen, the weight of it substantial. It had been the one my father used the most. With his name engraved in gold, it looked more like a piece of art than an instrument for writing.

  Three years. That was all the time I needed.

  After that, I would take my inheritance and move away. I would start my life.

  I doubted I would ever see him. If he was anything like my father where their business was concerned, he was probably going to be gone, traveling, and in meetings a lot.

  Yes… I could do this. I could be strong, not because I didn’t have a choice, but because I’d make the best out of the shittiest situation imaginable.

  So I grabbed the pen, and with resolve and determination, I signed.

  Once that was all done, I headed to my room and packed a bag. There were a lot of things that were just materialistic, items that I didn’t need to bring with me.

  And as I filled my suitcase with my clothing and a framed picture of me and my parents, I sat on my bed and just looked around. I reached for my phone and searched for who Judge Wilcox was. Most of what came up was standard information about his age, credentials, and the circles he associated with. My breath caught when I saw an image of Hades standing next to the judge. Hades wore his signature apathetic expression as he stared at the camera and held a glass in one hand, dark liquid filling the crystal a quarter of the way.

  The picture had been taken at a charity gala, where they’d recognized Hades as a primary benefactor. The judge had one hand raised as he laughed at something. His puffy cheeks were a ruddy color, and a sheen of sweat dotted his brow.

  I did a bit more deep diving online and found an article from last year claiming the judge had been accused of gross misconduct with a girl at his son’s school when the student came forward and said Wilcox had accosted her and made grossly inappropriate remarks. But nothing came from it. No charges filed. No repercussions. They had brushed everything under the rug with mentions of coming to a settlement between the two parties.

  I didn’t know how long I sat there, but it was the sound of the doorbell ringing that pulled me out of my thoughts.

  After gripping the handle of my suitcase and walking out of my room and down the stairs, I held my head high and refused to show how uncomfortable the situation made me.

  I wouldn’t give Hades that satisfaction.

  Once at the bottom landing, I saw him standing in the foyer dressed in another dark, three-piece suit, his hands in his front pockets, the material unable to hide the definition of his masculine body.

  He was stealthy as he glanced down at my suitcase before looking back at me, an eyebrow cocked the closer I came. I stopped when I was only a foot from him, my shoulders still pulled back, my head tilted so I could look at him in the eyes.

  The sunlight streamed behind him, and I could hear workers outside. It was just another day for everyone else. Yet, for me, my entire life had changed in a matter of days.

  Being this close to Hades, I could see that his eyes, ones I had once thought were black as night, upon closer inspection were actually more of a deep amber color with flecks of honey and red swirled within them.

  It was a beautiful color, even if the man standing before me was ugly as sin on the inside.

  “I’d ask if you’ve made your decision, but the suitcase sitting beside you answered that.” His voice was so deep and rough, it was almost painful to listen to, like a blade going over my skin.

  In my other hand, I had the paperwork and held it out to him. He only looked at it for a second before Hades took it from me, flipping through each sheet to make sure I undoubtedly signed in all the spots.

  He tucked the forms into the inner front pocket of his suit jacket, smoothed his hands down the lapels, then turned and headed outside to the sleek, black car waiting.

  I stood a moment, just staring at him, and turned to glance around the only home I’d ever known. I’d never see this place again. I knew that in my heart. And although I’d grown up here, at some point, this would just be a place I’d lived once.

  And today was that day.

  Chapter 5

  Hades

  At three years old, they found me sitting in a pool of my mother’s blood, her gunshot wound self-inflicted, and her arm covered in track marks. I’d been sitting there so long her blood had congealed in a pool around my small body. Her lifeless eyes fixated right on me.

  I knew I’d been the last thing she saw in her miserable life.

  By my fourth birthday, I’d been in three separate foster homes before being adopted by Michael Cronus.

  I learned at a very young age that money was nothing, that it caused more problems than it solved. It had been used to buy me, as if I were nothing but another item Michael could own.

  And by my tenth birthday, I had so many scars on my body, I didn’t know what “normal” looked like anymore.

  The girl sitting in front of me on my private jet knew nothing about pain, heartache, or humanity slowly being ripped away from you.

  She was innocent in every single sense of the word. Her father coddled her, had protected her to the point she was naïve about how fucked up the world and life really was.

  Did she know what a piece of shit bastard her father had really been? She’d never be able to comprehend the horrors her father put me through.

  But she would.

  The bastard was still just as depraved as he had been until the very day he died. And all the images, the phone transactions, and the credit card receipts I dug up on him confirmed that.

  No, sweet, little Persephone didn’t know the first thing about who her father truly was or what he did to people. What he’d done to me.

  She glanced over at me; her eyes the shade of whiskey when the sun hit them, her hair dark tendrils curling at the ends as they fell over her shoulders. She looked nothing like Zachariah and, instead, resembled her mother heavily in face shape and coloring. But that was where any similarities ended.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head back on the leather seat, the sound of the jet engines drowning out everything else as I tried to clear my mind.

  “Go on, boy. Take the switch and show Hades that he’ll never truly be a Cronus, not like you.”

  The first time I’d heard my adoptive father, Michael, say those words had been the first night I spent in my new home. They had adopted me out, and I now had a permanent family. It should’ve been the happiest day of my life.

  Instead, I’d been thrust into hell itself and was met with cold, uncaring eyes, a list of rules that had been longer than my small body, and had looked into the faces of the people who should’ve been my family but were now just so in name.

  “Please don’t, brother,” I whispered as I stared at Zachariah holding that willow branch. His fingers were tight around it, his eyes taking on the same apathetic gaze as our father.

  The first time our father had made my brother hit me, Zachariah had hesitated. He pleaded that he didn’t want to. Zachariah looked into my eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks a second before Michael had backhanded him, shoved the switch against his little chest, and told him to “man up and be a Cronus”.

  Zachariah was only a few years older than me the first time he gave me a mark. And after that, slowly, I saw the change come over my brother. Because each time Michael made him take part in the abuse, something dark and twisted grew in my older brother’s eyes.

  He came to like it because, ultimately, he was cut from the same cloth as our father.

  And when Zachariah had gotten old enough, he delivered those whips and punches himself. Half of the scars on my body were from my brother.

  I opened my eyes and looked at Persephone. She had her legs curled up and tucked underneath her, a blanket draped across her shoulders.

  Her head rested on the back of the seat and angled toward the window, the sun streaming through and casting this honey glow on the dark strands of her hair. My fingers curled in on themselves as the urge to reach over and brush the locks from her forehead grew inside of me.

  I hated my brother and had celebrated his death. And a part of me wanted to hate her, too, for the simple fact she was part of Zachariah. It didn’t matter that she was innocent. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know who her father really was or the atrocious things he’d done.

  Because she would pay for her father’s sins.

  With her body.

  Chapter 6

  Persephone

  Hades’ home wasn’t what I’d expected. When he said his home was in the city, I expected something as cold and detached as he was.

  Maybe a penthouse that overlooked the city, all steel and glass and little warmth.

  But when I stepped into the massive, Tudor-style home, all rich, dark, hand-etched wood, I knew my eyes had been wide and my mouth hanging open.

  The outside had a steeply pitched gable roof; two elaborate, masonry chimneys topping either side of the home; embellished doorways, groupings of stained-glass windows, and decorative half-timbering with masonry between the exposed wood framework and between the spaces of timber.

  There had been four servants waiting upon our arrival, two framing each side of the front doors, their black-and-white livery attire pressed as they greeted Hades.

  He led me up the staircase and showed me to my bedroom, told me to put my things away, and said lunch would be served in my room as he had “shit to do”.

  But because the world clearly revolved around Hades, I needed to be ready to eat dinner with him at six sharp.

  And that’s where I was now, standing in the center of the room for the last five minutes after he’d left without so much as another word.

  I traced the large, multi-paned latticework and casement window in front of me with my gaze. The stained glass had heraldic and ecclesiastical motifs; something I’d learned when my father had them installed in our home.

  Rich oak paneling framed the room, and tapestries and embroideries of velvet in colors of golds and rich blues adorned the walls.

  I looked at the bed, a large, four-poster canopy style that was covered in a bright gold with a blue trim damask comforter.

  Everything was foreign and aged to fit the style of the home, right down to the trestle tables and tufted benches off to the side.

  “This isn’t me,” I hissed as I dropped my bag to the floor, not even realizing I’d been holding it in a death grip the entire time.

  It may not have been you… but it is you now.

  For the rest of the day, I just familiarized myself with the room, put my clothes away, and set up a few things I’d brought with me on the dresser and bedside table.

  And then I just gazed out the window as I watched some of the staff work around the yard. The property was gorgeous, with open land for as far as the eye could see. This had to have cost a fortune, seeing as there wasn’t this kind of real estate typical within city limits.

  They covered the pool for the season, and a stone patio wrapped around it. There was also a gazebo closer to the tree line of the forest.

  Around lunchtime, a member of the staff—an older woman with white hair coiled into a tight bun at her nape, heavy creases around her pale blue eyes, and a scowl on her face that matched Hades’—brought a meal to my room.

  She didn’t make eye contact or say a word.

  I wondered if that was at Hades’ command. Maybe he thought this would make me realize he held all the power, that even his staff wouldn’t acknowledge me in a friendly manner unless he deemed it.

  I couldn’t wait until I started my senior year of high school. I didn’t even care that the academy wasn’t the one I’d gone to for the last three years. Although I would have obviously preferred to stay where I knew everyone.

  An hour before dinner, another staff member came to my room with a box in hand. He set it down on my bed, made brief eye contact with me, and then scurried away as if he were afraid to be in the same vicinity as me. I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes as annoyance filled me.

  If this was how everyone was going to be around me for the next three years, I was pretty sure I was going to rip my hair out and scream.

  Within the box was what I assumed was the dress Hades wanted me to wear for dinner tonight. It was modest in black, with a Peter Pan collar and the hem falling to my knees. It looked like something I’d wear to school, not to eat a meal in my home.

  I tossed that shit right in the closet and picked out my outfit. In fact, I put on the most unappealing clothes I could find, ones that would be sure to piss Hades off.

  Oversized sweats and a holey crop top it was, an outfit I wore when I’d paint on the back porch in the summers.

  I knotted my hair into a messy bun at the crown of my head, went shoeless, and headed downstairs.