The Reluctant Heiress

The Wicked Stepmother

The floor was laid with beautiful dark wood, the walls still panelled in the way old houses used to be. But it was obvious that the house had been through several renovations since its birth. A mishmash of hundreds of years of owners and tastes all thrown together. And yet it was still lovely. Still too much for a pauper like me.

It was everything a five-year-old would picture an old-fashioned mansion to be, right down to its cliched grant staircase. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open like fish out of water.

“I see that you’ve insisted on breaking my heart.” A woman, unearthly beautiful appeared at the top of the stairs, her golden hair swinging over her shoulder.

“And I see that you have been peeking out the windows again like some common housewife.” My father shot back, shrugging out of his suit jacket and handing it to a young woman dressed in smart black trousers and a matching blouse. He continued, adjusting a cufflink. “Besides, my love, breaking your heart would require you to actually possess one in the first place.”

Flinching, the woman set her hands on the railing and stared down at us. She was gripping hard enough that the white of her knuckles shone. “We both know that you aren’t capable of love, Richard. Why else would you persist in bringing this,” she waved a hand at me, her hard gaze still on my father, “into our home?”

It was my turn to reel back as if struck. I hadn’t necessarily expected a warm welcome but I hadn’t prepared for an openly hostile one either. I didn’t even know this woman.

With a flip of her hair, the woman – I could only assume this was my father’s wife, my newly discovered stepmother – descended. The click-click of her heels on the stair matched the staccato beat of my heart; her personal countdown, an announcement for others to straighten up and take notice. As if I could do anything else. She flowed down the staircase, every movement of her perfect hourglass figure elegant and precise. No energy wasted, not a hair out of place; shown off to the best effect for her audience.

Anyone could have come by at that moment and told me that she was the queen of some far-off place and I would have believed them.

The flintiness of her gaze, however, was anything but regal. I could hardly make them out at this distance but I guessed her eyes would be cold. Blue, probably, though nothing like the wildflower blue of my mother’s gaze.

The frost of her assessment crept beneath my skin; her eyes flicking between me and my father as though searching for our familial ties.

“Well?” She demanded when she stood in front of him, gesturing at my entirety again. Like I was some stray kitten he’d brought home after a moment of weakness. “This is to be the new heiress to the Hawthorne Legacy? This—” each one was a barb to my heart “—is the child that you’re throwing over our- my son for? Some skinny, ill-bred bastard who keeps her sunglasses on indoors?”

Shame spread over my cheeks like wildfire. I wanted the pristine hardwood floor to open up and swallow me whole. At least then I wouldn’t need to be seen in my beat-up cons, fraying jeans and leather jacket.

I was reaching up for the Aviators when she snarled, “And how do you intend to turn this…creature into something befitting our name.”

Creature? Creature?

“No, wait,” she continued, laughing bitterly and crossing her arms over her ample chest. “Let me guess: I’m going to be the one left in charge of her education whilst you lock yourself up in your study and forget about our existence.”

Lowering my hand, I left the damned glasses in place and raised my chin a couple of notches. I wasn’t about to let her get the better of me. Not anymore than she had.

Her eyes – grey, now that I was close enough to see – narrowed at me. “Yes,” she said, sucking on her teeth till they squeaked. “I do see the resemblance. That signature Hawthorn arrogance that you’ve done nothing to earn.”

“Thank you,” I said, hoping that it would needle her. I couldn’t help myself, my traitorous tongue was off to the races before my brain had even parked the car – fuelled by her unjustified hate for me.

And it was hatred. Red- hot, it rolled off of her in choking, perfumed waves.

“That was not a compliment, mom petit paysan. But you’ll learn soon enough.” Her voice dropped a register, turning husky. In a mirror of my father, she grabbed my chin, pulling me towards her. The wine sweetness of her breath washed over my face. “Oh, how you’ll learn.”

Dripping with promise and something dark enough to give me goosebumps, I sucked in a lungful of fermented exhalation. It might have been an affectionate gesture if it wasn’t for the slashing smirk curving her cherry-red mouth.

“That’s enough, Eloise,” my father ordered, exasperation creeping into his tone. Eloise dropped her hand, turning to scowl at him instead. Her eyes lingered collar where his hair had won its war against the wax. “We’ve discussed this a thousand times,” he continued, “You know the deal: Gideon is perfectly welcome to sue for Margaux’s—"

“Maggie,” I corrected mindlessly – an old habit that had developed over years of repeating myself to teachers and classmates.

“—hand, if he so desires. You know that I would welcome the match. You both do. It would be the path to getting what we all want: a consolidation of Hawthorne and Harper assets. Our future would be secured, set in stone.”

“What you want, you mean. You can’t honestly expect me to encourage him to…court her. Gideon can do far better than a—"

“Than a Hawthorne?”

 Listening to them talk about me as though I wasn’t there was giving me a headache. I mean, my hand? Court? What did that – Oh. Oh, no. “What did you say?”

My voice splintered straight down the middle, joining my dreams somewhere in the dirt.

They couldn’t- No, surely not…Who even did that this day in age?

My father sighed. “I had hoped to put off this discussion,” he shot Eloise a look that said ‘thanks a bunch’ and promised her an earful later, “until after you had settled in.”

“Okay…” I said carefully, mulling over the word.

“You are my sole heir. The sole heir to the entire Hawthorne Legacy, Heaven help us all.” Was that pity he was sending my way? “And as such, we must both do whatever it takes to ensure our lines’ continued success. For that means finding a suitable husband and providing me with a proper heir.”

The panelled walls pressed in on me, my chest turning tight. “A proper heir?”

This had to be some sort of joke. A cruel hazing. There was no way I was hearing this right. Maybe if I’d been able to find my tongue or my wit, I would have asked them to fetch me a fainting chair.

Eloise smiled, Cheshire and cruel. “Well, you’re hardly fitting now, are you? If you thought otherwise, we’ll need to have you committed.” She reached out to pat my shoulder but I moved away, ignoring the way her pleased cackle racked its nails down the inside of my head. “Best to just accept it and do as your told, no?”

Who could accept such a thing? No, absolutely not-

Head throbbing, a spark settled in my stomach, threatening to catch.

“So,” I hissed at my father, the truth falling as ash to coat my mouth, “you bought me just to sell me off to the next highest bidder. Am I some broodmare in your stables?”

“Hardly, Darling.” The spark burst into a flame that consumed my body, and I reeled on Eloise. “Broodmare’s have pedigree,” she went on, oblivious to the hate simmering in my gut. I wanted to hurt her, to ruin her perfect face. “Heaven knows we’ll be lucky to find a good and proper stud for a crossbreed like you.”

The curl of her mouth showed how pleased she was with herself. No doubt she thought it was her insults, truly first-rate jabs, that made me glare at her but it wasn’t. It was the ‘darling’, an echo of my mother’s betrayal that cut me to the quick.

“How much?” I asked, a swarm of mosquitos buzzing my eyes, filling up my head with their din.

“Excuse me?”

“How much am I worth? How much did you pay for me?”

“Oh, this is precious. She’s just like you,” the wicked stepmother screeched, looking at my father with sparkling eyes. Because this was first-class entertainment.

“Thank you, Elle,” He snapped back, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was a gesture that rocked me to the core.

I did the exact same thing, had done the exact same thing a few minutes ago.

Eloise’s face fell and she folded her arms over her chest, a diamond tennis bracelet glistening on her wrist.

“Half a million.”

The world pitched sideways, the walls melting as a gasp fell from my lips and my anger dissipated into the air. I just managed to stay standing, my knees locked hard enough that I wasn’t sure they’d ever unlock again.

It was too much. Yet it was not enough.

How much did the average Joe make on minimum wage anyway? I had no idea, no point of comparison. How much was a normal life worth – would I have ever earned that much on my own?

Somehow, I doubted it.

I wondered if it was more than the first payment but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Had it been to make sure that my mother kept me…to keep me around as some sort of insurance policy?

How absurd it all was. Laughter bubbled at the bottom of my throat, near-hysterical, but I kept it down with a snort. This circus was my life now, I told myself. It had only been a few hours and everything was different, but this was – would be – my life.

I couldn’t keep it down for long. Once it was out, it wouldn’t stop. I laughed and laughed, chuckles and snorts that rolled into something else entirely. Something breathless and cheerless. Less, less, less. Warm salt tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Really?” I asked, swiping at them with my sleeve. Both of them were looking at me; Eloise with disdain, my father with a ‘what have I done?’ grimace. “Jane would have sold me for a quarter of that. You’ve been had.”

And there was nothing the well-to-do hated more than being swindled out of their ‘hard-earned’ case. That had been one of the first things I learned at work – a coffee joint where the coffee was bad, the tea barely passable, and the customers ten times worse than all that. The only people I’d ever seen count their change, quibble over a penny, and never, ever tip where those who were dressed in designer duds and looked rich enough to not care. Most of them never said thank you either. That was the worst.

Half a million… What a waste. That money would be gone in a few years, spent on chic crystal and furs that would need to be sold again when the money dried up and the rent was due. And that was the best-case scenario. Worst case it would vanish into thin air and ethanol vapours.

“Hardly.” My father interrupted my morose thoughts. “Most of that was made out to your broth- half brothers, rather. A hundred thousand pounds each when they turn twenty-one. Unless they want it for university, in which case they may put it towards that.”

“What?” Tears pricked at my eyes again, this time for an entirely different reason. It made me glad I’d kept my sunglasses on.

Not just enough to keep them clothed and fed for a couple of years. Enough to change their lot in life, to go to university…

“For every year that you behave from this moment on, another ten thousand will be deposited into their account.”

“Until you have an heir.” A statement, not a question. How long could I put such a thing off? Perhaps I would be able to get away with using birth control somehow…not only would it get my brothers more money but it would annoy these people. That was almost reason enough.

“No. Until you or they die, darling.” Eloise looked at me with something akin to sympathy. It was the first time that she’d looked human, looked real; the expression uncomfortable and raw on such an attractive face. “Compliance does not end with the birth of a suitable heir. This is your life now. There is no escaping.”

I knew what this was. This was a bribe.

He’d paid for me to be there, to be allowed to kidnap me, and now he was paying out to ensure my obedience. And what better way to get it than to offer the boys the chance of a better life? Was I just that obvious or had he been planning this for some time, watching and waiting? Finding out where to strike to get what he wanted?

“And if I don’t behave?” I asked, knowing that the answer didn’t matter. I didn’t really have a choice but to obey. More than that, I would do it gladly.

Father’s face turned thunderous, grey clouds over dying sun. “You’ll find that I am not a man accustomed to being disobeyed. Do not test my patience, Margaux. I guarantee you will not like the results.”

I nodded curtly.

“I do adore how meek the plebeians are rendered when baited with the correct carrot.” Eloise chuckled, picking at one flawless stiletto nail. “It’s hardly as satisfying as the whip but I can wait for that. I have no doubt you’ll need to be put in your proper place soon enough.”

Turning on the heel of her patent Louboutin’s, Eloise glided back up the stairs and out of sight.

“Charming,” I muttered, the slam of a door I couldn’t see reverberating under my feet.

I closed my mouth with a click, however, when my father shot me a warning look.

Walking over to one of the walls, he pressed a button that had been painted to blend in with the décor. There was no noise but I swore I could feel some sort of buzzer, humming just below my skin.

A neat little woman appeared out of nowhere, asking, “Yes, sir?”

Father nodded at me. “Miss Hawthorne will no doubt want to settle into her room and make herself ready for dinner this evening.”

“Of course.” The woman nodded, looking me over and ushering for me to follow her up the stairs.

“Before you go,” my father said, raising a finger as though to chastise me. “You are to be known as Margaux now. Not Maggie, or Mags, or anything else. You are not a child, so don’t let me hear that odious nickname again. Do I make myself clear?”

Just when I thought I could lose no more, the bastards took my name from me.