Game of lies

Three hours later, we were at my parents' estate. I was immaculate and groomed, ready to take on the elite of Ansonville, New York, whom my parents value above all else. Or at least, that's how it appears. Behind the scenes, there's nothing but gossip, betrayals, and scams to make us even richer.

My stomach churns, and every cell in my body tells me to turn tail and run. To hide somewhere, to pretend Freddy didn't text me about a surprise. Coming from him, it can't be anything good.

Unfortunately, my brother is at my side as soon as we enter the ballroom of my parents' estate. "Happy birthday, Samantha."

That's all he says, and all I'm going to get. We're practically strangers, always have been.

Everything around me immediately increases my discomfort: the noise of the crowd, the change from the cool evening air to the damp, the crowded room, the overpowering smell of food.

I inhale deeply and lower my chin. "Thank you."

A society photographer stops us, and we pose together for a photo. My parents' friends smile at us from all sides, wishing me happy birthday. Though none of them are here for me. A waiter passes us with a tray of champagne, but I shake my head when Alexander tries to give me some.

"I'll get some later."

He simply shrugs and takes a sip of his own.

To our father's delight, Alexander is his spitting image: tall, slender, with almost black brown hair and dark blue eyes. Instead, I gravitate more toward my mother, with her average height, brown eyes, olive skin, and curves, which she pretends to love for the public, but secretly hates.

While it's easy to notice the family resemblance between Alexander and me, we might as well have grown up in two families on opposite sides of the world rather than in the same house, given how far apart we are. Alexander is living proof of my father's astuteness and childcare skills, at least as long as he's dealing with a child who adores him and is easily influenced.

Which I am not.

Consequently, Alexander has practically ignored me since my parents discovered I'm not like my older siblings. I have no interest in the family business or in being the boss of high society.

There's no place in the Osborn family for a girl who would rather "make noise"-as my parents used to call my music behind closed doors-than bury her nose in a book and talk about economic statistics or the future of the global financial market.

I've disappointed the family, and they do their best to ignore me as much as possible.

And after what happened to my sister, they've barely been able to look at me for more than a few seconds.

It's not that I blame them. They all heard our fight that terrible night three years ago.

"I hope one day you can forgive me, Sam."

The parting words my sister whispered to me before speeding off in her car will haunt me forever.

Her last words.

It's a miracle I have people in my life who even talk to me, let alone care about me, like Jake and Selena.

That's because they don't know what you did.

As if called, my friends approach me and give reassuring squeezes to my hand and shoulder. It's enough to pull me out of my destructive thoughts.

Alexander guides me between tables with elaborate floral decorations and leads me to our parents, who are already waiting for us on the other side of the room with fake smiles. As always, they are perfectly positioned in front of the thick velvet curtains that cover the large, gilt-framed French windows. My mother once told me it's the perfect background for photos because it gives her skin a special glow.

I've never seen her so disappointed as when I didn't share her enthusiasm at that moment.

By now, my parents know I hate these kinds of gatherings and probably won't last more than an hour. The only good thing is that no one will miss me when I disappear.

My mother's gaze travels over my meticulous makeup and my abundant curls, down to my perfectly fitted, floor-length designer dress and the stiletto heels that are visible with every step I take on the polished hardwood floors, due to the generous slit in the skirt.

Her smile never wavers when I approach, which is as clear a sign that there's nothing wrong with my appearance as any words could be.

She hugs me when I'm close and squeezes me. "Happy birthday, Samantha."

For those fleeting seconds, I close my eyes and breathe in as much of her warmth and familiar rose scent as I can. My father clears his throat loudly, and the strange moment ends.

All noise in the room immediately ceases, and everyone's attention shifts to him.

"We have gathered today to celebrate the birthday of our beautiful daughter, Samantha. May this evening be a celebration of joy, love, and family."

The crowd erupts in applause. My father looks at me for a moment and returns to his speech.

"Also, tonight I would also like to stand for forgiveness and community by welcoming home one of our own."

His statement elicits murmurs from around us.

I look for Selena and Jake, who only shrug when I find them standing off to the side a few feet away.

My dad raises his glass of champagne. "We're glad you're back, son. Welcome home."

Someone in the background also raises their glass, and I see it for the first time. I feel such a strong lurch in my stomach that I grab onto my brother's arm to stay upright.

Zane Levent.

My dad continues talking, but everything sounds like he's underwater.

The crowd parts to make way for Zane. He strides casually toward us, a smile plastered across his incredibly handsome face: the same sharp jaw, straight nose, and well-defined mouth, complete with the small scar on his upper lip that always enhanced his masculine beauty.

Meanwhile, my heart tries to shut itself off.

This is impossible.

This can't be happening.

Yet he's almost reached us as if it were just another day.

And he fits right in, too, dressed in a crisp black suit.

But were his shoulders always this broad?

I don't notice his body or our surroundings much longer. I'm paralyzed. I can't tear my gaze away from his face.

The dark depths of his eyes hold me hostage, and he looks at me with nothing but warmth in them.

There'll be a surprise waiting for you.

The words from Freddy's text message flood back to me.

I knew it couldn't be anything good, but I didn't expect it to be this messed up.

Zane Levent is my surprise.

My dead sister's fiancé.

The man who's been in prison for the past three years.

And he has no idea I was the one who put him there.