#1
1780 Words
Chapter 1
~ Hailey ~
I stepped out of my car and stared at the address on my phone, then back at the mansion looming at the end of The Bellamy Residences.
"This can't be right." I turned in a slow circle, taking in the lawns, the designer houses with their perfect hedges and three-car garages.
The Bellamy Residences is no place for just anyone. Everything screamed old money. The kind that didn't associate with people like me and my step-sister, Yvonne. I haven’t seen her in months and she is suddenly living in a mansion in the Bellamy Residences?
Trice climbed out of the car beside me, her mouth hanging open. "Hailey... did your sister really ask you to come stay here for two weeks? Are you sure you haven’t gotten the wrong address?"
"That's what she said." I checked the address again. The numbers matched, exactly the address. "But there's no way. Where would Yvonne get this kind of money?"
The mansion I was supposed to drive to sat at the extreme end of the estate. It made every other house on the street look like a cottage.
"Maybe she's house-sitting? Live-in nanny?" Trice suggested. "Or…"
A sharp pain exploded across my shoulder.
"Ow!" I grabbed my arm, spinning around. A small stone bounced off the pavement near my feet.
Across the street, a guy – f*****g and annoyingly handsome guy – in a leather jacket stood with his arm still extended from the throw.
Behind him, three motorcycles lined up like metal soldiers, their riders watching us.
He'd been skipping stones and now, he had thrown a stone at me. I do not care if he did it intentionally or not, but he should take responsibility and at least apologize.
But he was just staring at me with what looked like a smirk on his face.
"Are you serious?" Heat flooded my face. My shoulder throbbed. "Did you just hit me with a rock?"
He tilted his head slightly and raised a brow. No apology or even attempt at an explanation. Just that infuriating, lazy smirk.
"Hailey…" Trice's voice held a warning.
I bent down and snatched up the stone. "You think that's funny?"
"Hey… Hailey… maybe it was an accident," Trice was already panicking, afraid of what I would do next, she knew me too well… she grabbed my elbow. "They're bikers, Hailey. Let's just…"
I threw the stone back at him before she could talk me out of it.
It sailed across the distance in a perfect arc. Time seemed to slow. I watched it spin through the air, watched his expression shift from amused to surprise
then…
Crack.
It struck his temple really hard.
For one frozen moment, nobody moved. His hand came up slowly, touched the spot. When he pulled his fingers away and looked at them, I could see rage setting in on his face.
I felt satisfied for just a fraction of a second until I noticed his friends approaching us, looking like they’re coming to take our breath away both literally and figuratively.
"Oh shit." The words left my mouth in a rush. "Oh s**t, oh s**t…"
"CAR!" Trice shrieked.
We ran back into the car. Behind us, motorcycle engines roared to life. My hands shook so badly I couldn't get the key in the ignition.
"Hailey!" Trice slammed her palms against the dashboard.
The key slipped from my fingers, hit the floor mat. I could hear the thunder of motorcycles getting closer, louder.
"Come on, come on…" I grabbed the keys, and jammed them home. The engine sputtered, caught. I floored the accelerator.
My little Honda fishtailed before straightening out. In the rearview mirror, headlights multiplied — four bright points closing the distance fast.
"Why did you throw it back?" Trice panicked in her seat, watching them gain on us. "Why would you do that, Hailey?! Do you want us to get killed?"
"I don't know!" My voice came out too high. "He hit me first!"
"It was an accident!"
"How do you know it was an accident?"
The mansion gates appeared ahead with massive iron bars and a security booth with warm light spilling from its windows. I laid on the horn.
"Open up!" I leaned out the window, arm waving frantically. "Please! Open the gate!"
The security guard stepped out slowly, irritation written across his face. He was taking his time. Too much time.
"Please!" My voice cracked. "They're going to kill us!"
I checked the mirror again. The motorcycles were maybe fifty feet back now. I could make out determined and angry faces but in another second, they stopped.
Their engines are still running, headlights blazing, but not moving. The lead biker — the one I'd hit — sat perfectly still on his bike, head tilted slightly and watching us like he was memorizing every detail of my face, my car, this moment.
"Miss?" The security guard cleared his throat.
I jumped, heart racing. "Yes. Hi. Sorry. My sister invited me… Yvonne Martinez? She gave me this address." I shoved my phone at him, hands still trembling.
He studied the screen, then looked at me. "ID?"
"Right. Yes." I fumbled through my purse, dropped my wallet, scooped it up again. My driver's license stuck to my sweaty fingers.
He examined it under his flashlight. Looked at me. Looked at the ID again. Behind us, the motorcycles idled, a low threatening growl.
"Why did they stop?" Trice whispered. "That's weird, right? Why aren't they coming closer?"
Trice was right. It felt wrong. They'd chased us like we'd committed murder, and now they just... waited and watched us. Perhaps they knew the owner of this mansion and wanted to show respect by not causing troubles.
"You're clear." The guard handed back my ID. "Welcome to The Bellamy Residences, The Bellamy Mansion."
The gates swung open with a low groan. I drove through slowly, eyes glued to the rearview mirror. The bikers hadn't moved.
I parked near the front steps and cut the engine. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"What kind of surprise did your sister plan?" Trice's voice was barely a whisper.
Before I could answer, the front doors burst open. Yvonne practically flew down the steps, arms spread wide, smiles so bright it looked painful.
"You made it!" She yanked open my door. "I was starting to worry!"
I climbed out on unsteady legs, forgetting the little incident with those bikers.
"Yvonne. What is this place? What are you doing here?"
"This is home!" She spun in a circle, her designer dress which looked definitely new and expensive flaring around her knees. "Isn't it incredible?"
"Home? Since when…"
"Hailey, I have so much to tell you!" She grabbed my hands, eager to take me inside "Come inside, come on…"
"Wait." I planted my feet, pulled back slightly. "Yvonne. What's going on?"
Movement behind her caught my eye. An older bloke emerged from the house, presumably in his sixties at least, but carrying it like some kind of magazine advertisement. Silver-white hair swept back from his forehead, perfectly trimmed beard. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
My jaw went slack.
Beside me, Trice made a small choking sound, obviously thinking what I was thinking about the man.
"Hello." His voice was smooth, cultured. He extended his hand. "You must be Hailey."
I took his hand automatically, still staring. The white in his hair and beard didn't age him, it made him look distinguished and powerful. When he smiled, something in my chest constricted.
"I… yes. I'm Hailey." I couldn't look away from his face, he was just too charming.
"And you must be Trice." He shook her hand next. She nodded mutely.
"Girls!" Yvonne practically bounced on her toes. "Meet Jackson. My fiancé."
She thrust her left hand forward showing her massive diamond ring.
"Fiancé?" I didn’t know when it slipped out in that unbelievable tone but Yvonne didn’t seem to mind.
"I know!" Yvonne's laugh pitched too high. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"Since when?" My voice came out flat.
"Three months." Jackson wrapped his arm around Yvonne's waist. She melted into him, that smile never faltering. "I know it seems fast, but when you know, you know."
Three months. She'd known this man for three months and now she was wearing his ring, living in his mansion, playing house with his money.
This was the same sister who had climbed into my ex-boyfriend’s bed two years ago.
She claimed it was rape — crying, shaking, insisting that Matthew had forced himself on her. I was ready to press charges, to take him to court, to burn everything down for her.
But then she changed her tune. Begged me to let it go. "Please, just forgive and forget," she said, “I don’t want the drama”.
Matthew, on the other hand, was cold and unapologetic. He told me straight: it had been consensual. In fact, he claimed Yvonne had seduced him.
I didn’t know who to believe until I started digging on my own.
The truth unraveled and I discovered that Yvonne had lied.
But she was the only family I had, so I swallowed the truth. I pretended to believe her and told myself I could move on.
And now here she was, glowing and perfect, engaged to a man who looked like everything a woman would ever want.
"Jackson, this is my sister Hailey and her friend Trice," Yvonne was saying, her voice bright and brittle.
Was I jealous? The thought struck me suddenly. Was that what this tight feeling in my chest was? Jealousy that Yvonne could betray me, ruin my relationship, and still end up here?
I am twenty-eight years old and I'd never had a proper and decent boyfriend, never had a man look at me the way Jackson looked at her, like she was something precious.
I forced my mouth into a smile. "I'm happy for you, Yvonne."
The lie tasted bitter. I pulled her into a hug because that's what you do.
That's what family does, even when they've destroyed your trust, even when seeing them happy makes something dark curl in your stomach.
Over her shoulder, through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, a familiar figure stood still on his leather jacket, his arms crossed and watching me.
My breath caught in my throat. The biker chaser guy?
"Oh!" Jackson followed my gaze. "Navine's here. I didn't realize…" He raised his voice, turning toward the window. "Son! Come inside and meet everyone properly!"
Son?
Trice grabbed my hand, her fingers ice-cold. "Please tell me that's not…"
"It is." My voice came out strangled.
- Writer
