A Box Marked Only Trash

At a charity gala in Seacrest Bay.

My private video was passed off as a piece of avant-garde art titled "Submersion" and screened for a crowd of Seacrest Bay's elite.

To amuse his new companion, Natalie Reed, Clark Knight—the man I grew up with and heir to the Knight empire—goaded his friends into a cruel bidding war over me.

Helpless, I prepared to call our mutual friend and family lawyer, Glen Croft, for help.

But while catching my breath on the terrace, I overheard their whispered conversation.

"You're a genius, Glen. You set the trap and got your hands on Aria's video. With this, she won't dare compete with Natalie for the spot at the Vanguard Research Institute."

"I didn't get the footage myself. I hired a few 'professionals' to handle it."

It turned out my kidnapping two months ago—the three days and nights of torment I endured—was all a setup. It was all their doing, a sick game to give Natalie an edge and a way to control me.

"Anyway, we'll just tell everyone she 'sacrificed herself for art.' It's not like anything will really happen to her. When Aria calls you later, play your part. Don't blow your cover."

A bitter smile curved my lips. I slipped my phone back into my clutch and strode back into that glamorous, filthy ballroom.

When the auctioneer asked if I would continue bidding, I met Clark's mocking gaze.

"I withdraw."

I withdrew from the auction. I gave up on them. I gave up on everything.

I didn't want any of it anymore.

————————

1

The moment the words left my mouth, Clark's face fell.

He never expected me to surrender.

"Aria, have you no shame? Are you really going to let your video fall into the hands of those old perverts?"

I met his gaze, my own expression pained.

"But aren't you the one who put it up for auction?"

Clark’s face went slack with shock, then twisted in fury.

"What the hell are you talking about? This is your own damn fault for being so reckless! I'm trying to do damage control here, and you have the nerve to blame me?"

Natalie, nestled beside him, let her face fall into a perfectly timed, wounded expression.

"Aria, how could you say that? Clark went to so much trouble to get that video for you. How can you accuse him like this?"

Her tear-streaked performance made Clark’s heart ache with pity.

I couldn't stomach their hypocritical performance any longer, so I turned on my heel and left.

The phone in my clutch was ringing incessantly.

It was Glen.

Was Glen really going to go along with this? I thought, my heart sinking. Was he going to help Clark humiliate me, too?

I stepped out of the suffocating ballroom and answered the call.

"Aria, I heard what happened. Why didn't you call me? I'll help you, I promise."

Glen had no idea I'd overheard everything on the terrace.

He was still playing the part of the concerned friend.

My voice was ice.

"And how are you going to do that?"

Lost in his own act, Glen didn't catch the frost in my tone.

"I'll get the video back for you, don't worry."

"But, Aria, you know Clark and I owe her mother our lives. It's time we repaid that debt."

I knew. Of course, I knew.

For fifteen years, they had wielded that debt against me. When they were shipwrecked off Catalina Island as children, it was Natalie's mother who had supposedly orchestrated their rescue.

Ever since, they'd showered Natalie with affection. Whenever it came down to a choice between her and me, I was always the one forced to back down.

They were always talking about repaying that favor, and I was always the one forced to make the sacrifice.

Through my own hard work, I had finally secured a position as a top researcher at the Vanguard Research Institute—my one chance to prove myself and break free from them.

But Natalie, a third-rate socialite who only knew how to network, suddenly decided she wanted to burnish her resume, and they demanded I step aside for her.

When I refused, they resorted to this.

Perhaps I truly couldn't be a part of their world any longer.

Glen was still talking.

"Just let her have the spot at the institute. Besides, with me looking out for you, you can have anything you want."

I touched the necklace my mother had placed around my neck just before she died.

I remembered the freezing ocean, my mother using her last ounce of strength to push the three of us—just children—onto the life raft before the deep sea pulled her under.

In her final moments, she had cried out, "Aria, don't blame Clark and Glen for living."

She thought her sacrifice would grant me a lifetime of peace.

I fought the tremor in my voice, my nails digging into my palms.

"Fine. I promise."

Glen let out an audible sigh of relief, his tone instantly brightening. "That's my girl, Aria. I knew you'd do the right thing. Leave the video to me."

With that, he quickly hung up.

I wiped away my tears.

I sent a single text.

"Professor Davies, I accept the overseas project at the Vanguard Research Institute's Zurich headquarters. I'll leave with you this Saturday."

I was in my room, packing my bags, when Clark and Natalie returned.

Seeing me packing, Clark leaned against the doorframe, a sneer on his face.

"Running away from home? How pathetic. I didn't realize you were this shameless, willing to lose the institute job just to keep mooching off us."

He thought I was just tidying my room.

Natalie smiled, looping her arm through Clark's.

"Oh, Clark, don't say that. Aria's had a crush on you since we were kids. She just wants to be near you."

Clark looked disgusted.

"A bitch in heat wanting me is nothing to be proud of."

I didn't understand his viciousness. Had he forgotten the time we shared an ice cream at the amusement park?

"What did I ever do to you, Clark?"

My question made him freeze.

He didn't understand it either. This was all a charade he and Glen had planned to make me submit, to make me bend to their will.

But I hadn't groveled for his help, hadn't begged for his forgiveness, and that defiance left him deeply dissatisfied.

"Am I wrong? You've lived off my family your whole life; you're nothing but a parasite. Now you think you're grown and can just leave? So you can go sleep with those lowlifes more easily?"

The more he spoke, the more agitated he became, and he kicked over a box I'd set by the bed.

With a crash, its contents spilled across the floor.