Wreck Me (Corrupt Legacy Series #2)

“Hi, Mother.”

“Hello, Abigail, why are you calling?”

I don’t know, maybe because you’re my mother.

“How are you?”

“Busy.”

Doing what? I groan, and she catches that. No child should feel this inept when talking to the one who gave them life.

“Abigail, I am not in the mood for your childish behavior. I am so disappointed in you, going behind our backs like that. You should be ashamed.”

Ashamed? Of what? Of wanting to test myself, to know I could make it on my own without the name I have, the family I was born into, and the legacy shackled around my ankles? I’m a glorified prisoner.

“I’ve reached the jetway. I have to go.”

She hangs up, and my hand drops to my side like my spirit. I scroll through my contacts, dialing my father next. I must be in a particularly masochistic mood, but maybe it will numb me by the time I face Felix.

“Abigail, I don’t know why you can’t behave.”

“But, Father, it was innocent. I didn’t think much of the test.”

“You will go to Eagleton College, marry Kaden, and produce an heir. That’s your duty.”

All I can do is scream on the inside. Pain suffocates me, but I have to do damage control, so I call Grandmother next to apologize in advance.

The butler picks up. Thomas has so many roles in Grandmother’s life that I’m pretty sure he’s indispensable to her.

“Ms. Voss, a pleasure.”

“Hi, Thomas. Can I talk to Grandmother really quick?”

“She asks if it’s important.”

“I wanted to apologize.”

The small grunt makes me doubt whether she even knows, which is absurd; Felix is an extension of her.

“Yes, Abigail, what is it?”

I tell her everything and the silence on the other end persists. I hold a breath, awaiting my judgment.

“Grandmother?”

“My dear, people will always fear smart people because they make the average person feel insecure. Now, add that to you being a woman, and it becomes clear that men are such insecure creatures. Humans are indeed a pathetic race. I’ll see you soon.”

I stare at my phone, dumbfounded. Was that a compliment? Her voice always sounds so flat and controlled. I can’t tell the difference.

When I turn around, I see Dane leaning against the wall. His presence obliterates any other thought, completely owning my attention.

He has that cancer stick between his lips, and it’s time for a better strategy.

I sashay my way over to him, and confusion digs between his eyebrows. In a swift move, I yank the smoke from his lips, and the corners of his sinful lips curl up until I put it between mine. Dragging in a lungful, my chest rocks with a fit of coughing.

The taste is disgusting. Char sticks to my gums, but I have a point to make. He grabs my hand, but I take another hit and another one, dizzying myself. Then I smile when he throws the package in the bin.

I stomp on the one I almost killed myself with.