Page 1 of Shattered Sinner
1
BIANCA
Fear and dread flooded my veins as I sat in front of my father's desk. I was as still as a statue other than the slow blinking of my eyes. I was reeling from his announcement as I tried to justify how those pictures fit the bullshit crime he was saying I committed. My eyes were the only thing that moved as they analyzed the mysterious pictures spread across his desk. I wanted to glance at the rest of them, but I was afraid of drawing more attention to the problem at hand. Instead, my thoughts whirled around as I tried to think of how I could get out of this mess, and all the while, my eyes were drawn to the dark clouds that had formed in the sky.
"How could you do this?" I asked as my voice trembled. Every word tasted bitter, and I felt nothing but betrayal.
"How could I do this? This is all because of you!" my father exclaimed. The glare in his eyes did nothing but piss me off further. "This is what we need to do to protect our family’s reputation and to smooth over this dent in my political career. You should be thanking me for cleaning this up.”
"Thanking you? For trying to force me to marry Tristan Whitmore?” I scoffed as anger boiled beneath the surface. “I won't marry someone that you choose just because you want to save your career. Even though that’s all you fucking care about."
"Watch your mouth," my father snapped back. "You’ve gotten us into this situation, and you will get us out. Youwillmarry Tristan, and that’s final."
Tears stung my eyes at the finality of his words. His voice was cold and matter of fact, feeling like a slap in the face to me. I struggled to keep myself from crying in front of him. He didn’t deserve to see me cry or to be in the same room as me, frankly. This was too much to handle. For some reason, I couldn’t believe that my own father would betray me like this. Then again, why should I be surprised that he was forcing me into a loveless marriage for the sake of his political career? I’d grown to expect that my father was an asshole, but this was beyond my wildest dreams.
Or should I say nightmare?
It was clear that nothing mattered as long as he got his way.
I couldn’t give in to this. This was a battle of wills that shouldn’t even exist. Surrendering wasn’t an option for me.
Suddenly my fury couldn’t be contained. It was as if my body thawed at once. There was nothing but fire in my heart, and the urge to fight him every step of the way. I jumped out of my chair, and I saw red. “I don’t consent to any of this, so the only way I’m marrying that fucker is if I’m dead.”
“What did I say about watching your language? And that’s pretty rich when I’m the one that sustains your lifestyle, Bianca. So, once again, you’re going to marry him, and that will be the end of this. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some guests I need to entertain.”
He walked out of the room without another glance in my direction and almost slammed his office door behind him. I was sure once he stepped outside, he put on his picture-perfect smile and started shaking hands as if nothing was wrong.
Yet I was still in here, feeling as if my world had completely fallen apart.
My gaze landed on the window as a drop of rain hit the glass. I had to admit it was comforting to see that the weather outside mirrored how I felt on the inside. I took a deep breath to try to calm myself because I knew I needed to focus on thinking clearly. A plan was necessary in order to get through this.
But when my stare landed back on his desk, I couldn’t take my eyes off the photos staring up at me. My nails dug into my palms after I clenched my fists, serving as a reminder of the reality that I was in.
The only explanation for this leak was Easton. These were the exact same photos he’d shown me on his phone, and now, because I ended whatever the hell we had going on, he decided to enact his revenge.
A wave of hurt crashed over me as I battled through the treacherous sea of my emotions. I tried to take small breaths to stop myself from sobbing, but I wasn’t sure if I was successful. Whatever connection Easton and I had was now a twisted, convoluted mess, and I hated him more than I had over the last two years.
I rubbed both of my hands down my face before I glanced down at my father’s desk and found a photo that hadn’t been the focus of my deepest nightmares. Staring back at me was a photo of my parents, Nash, and me, which must have been taken on the same day the one that I had of us was. Our poses and expressions were slightly different—our smiles weren’t quite as wide—but still, the happiness that we used to share shined through.
Too bad that was no longer the case.
Without another thought, I walked to the door. There was no doubt in my mind that I needed to get out of this room and fast. The walls in here were closing in on me, and the air was slowly starting to suffocate me, which told me that a panic attack could be incoming.
I needed to get out of here, right now.
I yanked open my father’s office door, the squeaking of the door on its slightly rusted hinges did nothing but annoy me as I left the room. I ignored everyone around me as my feet propelled me toward the front door. Any sense of decorum had flown out the window, and I wouldn’t be liable for how I might react if someone tried to stop me. It wasn’t until I walked outside that I realized what I needed: fresh air.
The heaviness of my rage slowly left my body in the evening air. Should I have grabbed a coat before I left the house? Given that on any normal day during this time I would have been shivering, but today, my body felt as if it was burning from the inside out. I didn’t make an attempt to cover myself because it was no use. At least the coolness from the raindrops helped soothe my soul. The rain had picked up slightly, but hadn’t turned into a full-blown storm. Not that any of that mattered because even if Mother Nature decided that today would be the apocalypse, I was getting out of this house.
No one stopped me as I walked down the stairs and out to my car. No one bothered to call as I drove away from my parents’ home and headed back to my place. The ride back was a complete blur. However, it wasn’t until I stumbled into my apartment that I truly felt as if I could take a deep breath without feeling as if I was struggling under the weight of everything. The lingering scent of the vanilla candle that I lit while I was getting ready to head to my parents’ home normally would have made me feel warm and fuzzy, but I felt anything but.
I threw myself onto the couch and closed my eyes, shoving everything I could out of my mind. The photos, Easton, my father’s proposal, and Tristan. It took everything within me to push past the last couple of days, but I somehow managed. Nothing else mattered but me.
That lasted all of five seconds.
I lifted my body from the couch, and it took more effort than it should have. I strolled into my bedroom, much slower than I would have normally. I wasted no time in taking my clothes off my body. I was this close to ripping the offending garments from my body because, in the moment, it would have made me feel better even if it wasn’t wise. I tossed on some sweats and walked back into my living area, where my eyes immediately landed on the half-empty bottle of wine on the counter.
That could take the pain away.
