Tristan simply licks the blood from the corner of his mouth and stares his father down.
“You are a Vanderbilt, son. This country was built on our dime and our whims. Do I need to reiterate the shame you bring on our entire family, on the company, when you let yourself lose to commoner trash?”
My mouth drops open, and my entire body goes ice-cold.
Based on Tristan's lack of empathy, I just sort of assumed his family was awful, but seeing it in person? I'm gobsmacked. Despite my dad's many faults, I love him and he loves me. I can't even imagine being treated like this by him. Hell, I can't even imagine Jennifer treating me like this.
“I understand, Father,” Tristan whispers as his dad releases him abruptly, and he stumbles.
“Good. Then get out there and check the roster. If I don't like what I see, this isn't going to be a pleasant week for you, son.” Tristan nods, and then turns abruptly, heading for the door so quickly that I don't have time to scramble out of the way.
All I manage to do is back away from the door, so that it's somewhat plausible that I was just walking by.
Tristan freezes in place, and a hundred emotions work their way across his face before he shuts them all down and just stares at me with a storm gray gaze.
“Hey.” It's the only word that'll come out of my mouth.
After a moment, I hear Mr. Vanderbilt answer his phone, false laughter ringing out from the open door. Tristan pushes it closed with a palm, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths that don't show on that stoic face of his.
“Are you okay?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn't bother. He was horrible to me, the worst of all the Idols. And yet … I can't control that small surge of empathy. Tristan turns on me in an instant, storming across the hall. I end up backing up, even though I don't mean to.
He gets right up in my face, jaw clenched, anger surging through him in waves.
Without a word, he reaches up and snatches the necklace from my throat, breaking the chain in the process. My heart is racing so hard and fast that I can barely breathe. When he turns and storms over to the trash can, I'm left gaping as he yanks the Rolex off his wrist and shoves both pieces of jewelry as deep into the bin as he can get them, staining the sleeve of his perfect white jacket with something red that I think is ketchup. But then he sniffles and I realize that blood is actually running from his nose. It drips onto his chest and sleeve as he turns back to face me.
“Do not talk to me, Charity,” he snaps, practically grinding his teeth. “Do not look at me. Don't even think about me. If you do, I'll break you worse than Zack did. And I won't be there to make you throw up the pills when I'm done.” He spins on his heel and storms down the hallway, leaving me gaping behind him.
What the hell was that all about?!
I flip him off behind his back … and then I dig through the garbage again.I know things are going to get bad for me this week when I step into the courtyard with the stag statue and the fountain, and find Harper du Pont deep in conversation with my father. Shit, I took too long.
Moving as fast as I can, I close the distance between us and step up beside Charlie with a huge smile on my face.
“Dad.”
“Marnye-bear!” he says, giving me a huge hug. It feels so good to be in his arms that for a split-second, I forget that the queen bitch of Burberry Prep Academy is standing right next to us, her glorious brunette hair blowing in the wind. My jaw clenches, but I manage to maintain a grimace, if not an actual smile. “I was just talking to your friend, Harper.”
“Well, friend wouldn't quite be the right word.” It takes physical effort, but I resist the urge to tell Charlie that Harper is one of the ones who beat me, and that it was on her orders that it happened at all. I had that chance, last year, when I was questioned by the staff. They all saw what the boys did, how they threw the panties, but hardly anything came of it. Ratting the girls out would likely do little to nothing. No, I'll take my own revenge, thank you very much.
As things stand, the only punishment the boys received was a slap on the freaking wrist. They had their honors and letters from first year rescinded, and I’m pretty sure the academy squeezed some fat donations from their parents. Once again, their money saved them from facing any consequences for their actions.
