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  The Fidelity World

  ENVY

  A.D. JUSTICE

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  SYNOPSIS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  SYNOPSIS

  Though I denied it, envy ruled most of my life.

  I was always the outsider among people born to privilege.

  Envy made me despise them, the Montague Manor elitists.

  Until I fell in love with one of them.

  Wyatt Spencer Weston changed my life.

  He changed me for the better, at first.

  Until his inconceivable betrayal nearly destroyed me.

  He recently took control of his family’s business and the vast wealth that comes with it.

  I’ve waited years for this day to arrive.

  Envy used to rule me. Now a driving need for revenge does.

  Wyatt will soon learn a valuable lesson in envy.

  When you have everything, you have more to lose.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE PAST

  T he familiar feeling settled in my chest before traveling down to my stomach as I watched them. Them—the popular clique whose last name would open doors others were forbidden to enter. The fortunate people who created the division between the haves and the haves not by simply existing. The ones who seemed to have a perpetual pass when it came to following the rules. They were above the law, we were beneath it, and both sides instinctively knew it without having to be told. Though anyone whose last name held any relation to Montague, Fitzgerald, Carmichael, or Spencer had no problem reminding those of us who didn’t.

  “Megan, stop staring at him before they see you,” my best friend, Christine, whisper-shouted at me.

  “Let them see me. I don’t care.”

  “You know they’ll start their shit again if you draw their attention. They’re not worth the hassle.” Christine grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward her car. “Besides, if you get into another fight with Blair Weston, you’ll get expelled. Then you’ll lose that full-ride scholarship to Harvard you’re applying for next month.”

  “You’re right. They’re not worth it. I’m getting away from this place and everyone remotely related to Montague Manor.” I slid into the passenger side of her Altima. My treacherous eyes drifted back to Wyatt Spencer Weston, the twin brother of my arch nemesis. The very handsome brother of the snobbiest bitch in my high school.

  Wyatt Weston. With his blond hair, blue eyes, and perfect athletic build, he was the epitome of good breeding. Tall and muscular, he played every major sport and excelled at all of them. Football quarterback. Basketball captain. Baseball pitcher. Ask any girl at Ridgeview High who her dream boyfriend would be, and she’d say Wyatt Weston without a doubt.

  When I was a little kid, I never understood why my family discouraged me from wanting to see inside the old plantation-style manor. It was the most beautiful mansion anyone in my small world had ever seen. But when I’d beg to go to work with my mom just so I could see for myself if the interior matched my imagination, she’d harshly admonish me and order me never to wish for that again.

  But by the time I was old enough to start school, the blue bloods of Savannah had effectively put me in my place. I never again questioned my mother about visiting the mansion. As the lowly daughter and granddaughter of Montague Manor servants, my future was no brighter than what my parents and grandparents had endured. I was expected to follow in their footsteps and be an invisible servant to cater to the already spoiled upper class.

  I supposed any small town had similar problems. There were the chosen few who were held in higher esteem, and those whose last name would forever damn them to the dregs of society. Perhaps it only seemed more pronounced to me in our coastal city of Savannah, Georgia, but that perception was all I had while growing up. Perception is reality, they say. It most definitely was my perception, my reality, and my prison cell.

  Blair Weston thought she was personally responsible for the keys to my cell and frequently jangled them in my face. Especially when her friends were around to watch my humiliation for sport. She’d make her snide remarks about my lack of designer clothes or how the cut, color, and style of my hair was “so last year,” then all her little groupies would join in with her obnoxious cackle. Living through that type of hell would push anyone to the limit.

  I hit that limit at least four times a year over the last twelve years of being stuck in the same school system as her. When we were little, I’d wait to seek my revenge when we were on the playground. To the teachers, it appeared as if we were just playing. But Blair and I both knew the times she “tripped in her new expensive shoes” and bit the dust was courtesy of yours truly.

  Finding satisfying opportunities for payback was harder the older we became. Recess was a thing of the past, and Blair wasn’t as clumsy. Still, there were times after gym class she’d find her new designer handbag soaked in the girls’ toilet. Or her math books and folders would mysteriously disappear from her locker, forcing her to redo her homework. When I learned our math teacher was from New York City and wasn’t impressed with the local pedigrees, I took full advantage of his zero-tolerance policy on missing homework.

  While I was distracted, ruminating over my sordid history with Blair, Wyatt turned his head and caught me staring directly at him. Our gazes locked, and an invisible fetter connected us. His eyes widened in surprise, and one side of his full lips quirked upward. He quickly caught himself and stilled his smile. He tried to appear nonchalant when he glanced around at his cohorts in elitist crime, but I knew exactly what he was doing.

  He was making sure they hadn’t caught him looking at me because he was embarrassed to admit he was attracted to me.

  I shook my head in disgust and slid my shades over my eyes. Christine’s laughter drew my attention before she jerked the driver’s door open and slid into her seat. Her beautiful smile split her face in half, and I couldn’t help but smile in return, even though I had no idea why she was so happy.

  “Oh. My. God. Can you believe that?” She bounced up and down in her seat, thrumming with excitement.

  “Believe what?”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t hear a word of what just happened outside this door?” Her jaw was slack, her brows were drawn down, and her eyes were wide with disbelief—at first. Then her eyes disappeared behind tiny slits, but I still felt her glare. She turned her head and followed the line of sight directly in front of me. “He’s still looking at you, Megan King. You’ve been staring at Wyatt Weston again. When will you ever learn?”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to make up my own version to tell everyone?”

  “Jayce Ellison just asked me to go to the homecoming dance with him!”

  We squealed together like the high school senior girls we were because Jayce Ellison was the best-looking guy at our school, second only to Wyatt. The best part was he had a winning personality and was genuinely a good guy. He moved to Savannah early in high school, long after the rest of the school had subscribed to the expected traditions and no longer questioned why certain families were better than others.

  I threw my arms around her neck and hugged her to me. “I’m thrilled for you, Chris. You’ll have a great time with him.”

  On the ride home, we made plans to go shopping together over the weekend to find her a dress to wear to the dance. Jayce was our best running back and the main reason everyone in our district turned out at the Friday night football games. Our winning streak was courtesy of his outstanding athletic abilities. Christine wanted to look especially beautiful when she walked into the dance on his arm.

  She dropped me off with the promise to pick me up first thing in the morning for school, then we’d start combing the mall for the perfect outfit over the weekend. Mom was home early from work, which was never a good sign. The tension enveloped and suffocated me the moment I stepped inside our small home. She and my father sat at the table, holding hands and murmuring quietly to each other.

  “Hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Dad stood and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s nothing, sweetheart. How was your day?”

  “Come on, Dad. I’m the valedictorian, so I’m obviously not stupid. Tell me what’s going on.”

  He sighed heavily and lowered his face toward the floor. “Your mother tried to talk them into letting me come back to work at the manor. She was sent home for three days without pay to think about where her allegiance lies…with their family or with ours.”

  My father worked for that family for eleven years before they fired hi m two years ago. An expensive bottle of bourbon was missing from the liquor cabinet after one of their elaborate parties, and he was accused of pilfering it for himself. Anyone who has ever met my father knew he’d never steal from anyone. He wasn’t questioned. He wasn’t given an opportunity to defend himself. He was simply dismissed for theft, ensuring he wouldn’t qualify for unemployment. With limited skills and no reference from his employer of eleven years, he’d been hard pressed to find work since then.

  Withholding three days’ pay from my mother was cruel punishment, but the uncertainty of having a job when she returned to the manor added a heavier weight on her shoulders. To add insult to injury, the question of loyalty wasn’t a rhetorical one. She would have to provide an answer when she returned. She was just as likely to be fired for pledging her allegiance to their family over her own, simply because they’d enjoy her humiliation.

  Our little family was barely scraping by as it was. Seeing my mother hopeless and tearful at the small kitchen table only fanned the flames of my hatred toward those who made our lives unbearable. “That’s it. I’m going to get a job somewhere after school. I can be a cashier somewhere.”

  “No.” My mother found her firm voice. “If you do that, you’ll mess up any chance you have of getting the scholarship you’ve worked so hard for. We’ll get by, Megan. Don’t worry about anything except your grades and academic clubs so you can get away from here.”

  She stood and walked to me, her shoulders back and her head held high. Regardless of what she faced daily at work, she held onto her pride and dignity when she was away from that place and those awful people. She grasped my upper arms and smiled. “We’re so proud of you. Only one more month before you can apply to Harvard then we’ll celebrate when you get your early acceptance letter in December.”

  “I hope you’re right. But I still hate thinking about leaving you and Daddy behind.”

  “You won’t be leaving us behind, pumpkin. You’ll be moving yourself ahead of the pack. That’s all that matters to your mother and me.” My dad joined us, drawing us into his embrace. “If you’re happy, then we’re happy.”

  In my bedroom, I emptied the contents of my book bag onto my bed and dove headfirst into my homework. My parents were right—my grades and test scores were my saving grace from this humdrum existence. If I wasn’t chosen during the early application process for college, the months of waiting until the spring decision was communicated would kill me. Slowly. Tortuously. I’d realized that I had to get away from my life at the end of middle school, with the help of my mom, and focused all my efforts on maintaining high grades and being involved with every academic club I could get into. Every extracurricular activity I included on my college application put me one step closer to my new life goal.

  To make the popular crowd envy me rather than the other way around.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE PAST

  M y parents and I were watching a movie we’d seen a thousand times before. Cable was a luxury we couldn’t afford, so replaying old DVDs was our nightly entertainment. A knock on our door made us all stand at attention and look to each other for answers.

  “I’ll get it,” I announced and walked to the door. “Who is it?”

  “Wyatt Weston,” the male voice called back.

  I froze in place, certain my ears had deceived me. There was no way Wyatt Weston had knocked on my door after nine o’clock at night.

  “Megan, open the door,” my father pressed.

  While gripping the knob tightly, I twisted it and pulled the door toward me. Standing there in his jeans that hugged his muscular legs and a T-shirt with our school name sprawled across his defined chest was the Wyatt Weston. He must be lost, I thought.

  “What do you want?”

  “Megan!” My mother appeared behind me. “Where are your manners? Hello, Wyatt. I’m Norma, Megan’s mother. Would you like to come in?”

  “Umm…sure.” Wyatt glanced nervously at me, unsure if he should accept my mother’s invitation. I extended my arm and gestured for him to come in. Funny, he didn’t seem quite as sure of himself while standing in our run-down home. “Thank you, Mrs. King.”

  “Of course. How can we help you?”

  “Uh. I, uh. I actually stopped by to talk to Megan. I’m sorry I didn’t call before just showing up unannounced, but I don’t have Megan’s cell phone number.”

  “Oh, well, that would be because I don’t have a cell phone to have a cell phone number.”

  “Megan, why don’t you and Wyatt sit on the front porch swing and talk? You’ll have more privacy out there.” My mother furrowed her brows and slightly inclined her head toward the door, ordering me to walk outside with our guest.

  “Okay, Mom. Come on, Wyatt. I’ll show you to the swing.”

  “Good night, Mr. and Mrs. King. It was very nice to meet you.”

  I closed the door behind us before they could reply. As it stood, I’d never hear the end of what a well-mannered young man Wyatt was. My mother would never know any different. Her heart would be broken if she knew how he shunned me at school because I wasn’t good enough to be part of his crowd. She’d blame herself, and she had too much on her already. She’d lost weight over the past several months, and the strain of my father’s unemployment took a toll on her health.

  “Have a seat.” I sat on the swing first and turned toward Wyatt when he took the seat beside me. “Why are you here?”

  “You’re not going to make this easy for me at all, huh?” His lopsided grin made my stomach turn somersaults, but I held onto my unaffected façade. The most popular and best-looking guy in school wasn’t without his share of willing conquests. I wasn’t about to be his next hookup.

  With a sardonic laugh, I met his gaze full on. “Every other girl has made it easy for you, Wyatt. Not me, though. I’m immune to your charm.”

  His smile fell, and he looked at me thoughtfully. “I believe you, but I’m here anyway. I’m here to,” he paused and took a deep breath. “I wanted to ask if you’ll go to the homecoming dance with me.”

  In stunned silence, I waited for the punch line to his stupid joke. After several long and uncomfortable seconds of silence, I finally replied. “Are you kidding? Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Not at all. I’m serious, Megan. I want to go out with you, get to know you, take you to the dance. What do you say?”

  My lungs burned from holding my breath, but my body forgot how to breathe. The sincerity shone in his eyes, and I didn’t like the hope that attempted to bloom in my chest. For years, I’d carried a secret flame for Wyatt. While his family didn’t own Montague Manor, they were distantly related and thick as thieves when it came to business. Wyatt’s family millions started with commercial real estate development decades ago, passing down from generation to generation. Just as everyone expected me to join the servant rank, Wyatt was expected to join the business executive order and grow his family’s wealth even more.

  I felt like a traitor wishing I could say yes to his offer. I felt like a hypocrite for feeling like a traitor. How long had I preached equality? Yet when the opportunity fell into my lap, I was hesitant to take it.

  “Megan?”

  “Okay, Wyatt. I’ll go to the dance with you.”

  His smile lit up his face. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight, his relief palpable. “Great. I’m so glad you said yes.”

  “Does your sister know you’re here?” I had to know the answer. She’d been the thorn in my side for years. If she knew of his plans to ask me, she’d make sure to rain on my parade every chance she got.

  “No, I didn’t tell anyone because I wasn’t even sure I’d have the guts to show up. I wasn’t sure of anything until I knocked on your door and you answered.”

  “Why do you want to go with me? I don’t think you’ve said more than a few words to me in the last twelve years of school together.”

  “I’ve always admired you from afar. I got the feeling you didn’t like me much because of my sister. She can be a little hard to take sometimes.”

  “That’s an understatement. I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t hold your sister’s behavior against you if you don’t act like her.”

 

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