Mad world, p.5
Mad World, page 5
Her eyebrows twitched. “Because I’m bored as fuck. You know what else comes with all those fancy trips and pretty pictures you see? A lot of responsibility that I’m sick of shouldering. The truth is what I told you that first night—I want out of my life so I can actually breathe.”
“This had nothing to do with me, did it?” I asked slowly, staring at her. Who the hell had I spent the last four days with?
A bitter smirk twisted her pink lips. “Did I think meeting my twin sister might be cool? Sure. It’s been fun, and bonus points to you for not being a total wimp, the way I originally pegged you. But I also saw this whole thing for the advantage it was. My chance to have a summer of freedom before my life is over.”
“But you’re Madelaine fucking Cabot,” I ground out, letting the acid singe my tone. “Don’t you have the picture-perfect life, princess?”
“Exactly. My father—our father—has my entire life planned out. Has since before we were born,” she said bitterly, waving a hand. “You want to know why you’re not part of it? Because he only needed one kid, and I’m still not entirely sure which one of us drew the short straw.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded softly, my heart pounding in my chest at the revelation.
Madelaine rolled her eyes and blew out a hard breath. “Cabot money is old money. It started as a steel company back in the early eighteen hundreds and just kept growing. There’s an insane amount of money that is held in a trust for the next generation so the current people in control can’t fuck it up for everyone.”
“Congratulations,” I drawled sarcastically. “You’re even richer than you told me.”
“If it was that simple, do you think I’d be here? Don’t be stupid, Madison. It isn’t a cute look.”
My eyes narrowed. “Then tell me, oh wise one.”
With another long-winded sigh, she spun away from me. “The will is old, and the money is always distributed through the oldest male child. Dad’s an only child, so he inherited stocks, money, and everything. But there’s also a codicil.”
“A codi-what?” I frowned.
She sighed as if annoyed she was having to explain this totally foreign word to me. “It’s an amendment to a will. And the plot twist of this whole fucked up thing is that there’s a completely separate account that our great-grandmother set up to protect the women of our family. Five percent of every dollar earned by a Cabot-owned business has to be held in a trust fund for a woman of the family to access. There haven’t been any girls born in the Cabot family since then.”
My jaw dropped. “None?”
Lainey’s lips mashed together. “Well, that’s not quite true. We had a great-aunt, but she died before she came of age. So it’s just been a giant bank account with a shit-ton of money in it that keeps getting bigger and bigger.”
“Damn,” I murmured. “That’s... I don’t even know what to say.”
“Unfortunately, the will also is pretty damn reflective of the times, and in order to access the money, the woman has to be married.” Lainey leveled me with a stare.
“I’m sorry, did you say married?” I started to laugh.
“I did,” she replied stiffly.
I stifled my giggles. “That’s insane.”
She leaned forward, her eyes meeting mine. “No, here’s the insane part. To get that money, I have to be married before I’m nineteen.”
My laughter died. “You’re kidding.”
“Don’t I wish,” she muttered.
“Why nineteen?” I frowned at her.
“Because back then arranged marriages were normal. Women were married when they were still, like, fifteen. The will is iron-clad, so there’s no work around. Daddy had every lawyer he could find looking for a loophole.”
“You could not take the money,” I suggested.
“That's not an option.”
“Okaaay—” I dragged out the word “—so you have to find someone to marry in the next, what? Fifteen months? Is Evan not up for the job?”
After a second of watching me, Madelaine stormed across the room and threw open the double doors that led to her bedroom. She was back a moment later, holding up a ring with an enormous diamond.
“Holy shit,” I murmured, watching the light catch the stone and splay rainbows across the walls. “So, you’re already engaged?”
“Yes.” She tossed the ring onto the coffee table with a sneer.
Tossed. A. Diamond. Ring.
Like it was a bag of chips.
“To who?” I stared at her with some weird mix of horror and interest. “Is it Evan?”
She scoffed. “Please. Like Daddy would let me marry someone who drives a car for a living?”
“Okay.” I gritted my teeth and tried not to let my temper flare up again. “Then who is about to be my brother-in-law?”
“The asshole son of my dad’s business partner and oldest friend,” she replied coldly. “It’s a bad look to be planning to pass your daughter off as a child bride, so they’ve kept our childhood engagement a secret.”
“Then say no,” I told her. “Tell them all to fuck off.”
“Oh, my God. You are so naive, it’s almost painful, Madison.” She turned away with a snort. “Don’t you think I would if it was that simple? Ryan and I have been looking for a way out of this deal since we first met. But we’re out of time and our relationship is finally public knowledge.”
“Ryan?” I echoed.
“Ryan Cain,” she said slowly. “Heir apparent to Cain International, Cain Financial, and my not-so-doting fiancé. Gorgeous, entitled, and a total fuckboy. I literally can’t stand him.”
“You’re aware we live in a country where you can say no, right?” I stared at her. “If you two are so against getting married, don’t get married. It’s that easy, princess.”
“Trust me when I say that the world I live in isn’t like the one you live in,” Madelaine retorted, ice dripping from her words. “It’s easier to just go along with it. I tried fighting it for years, and it was more of a headache than I needed to deal with. One thing rich people always want more of? Money.”
She sat back down, her expression stormy. “Besides, Ryan and I have an agreement. We’ll get married and spend the rest of our lives living on opposite ends of the world with someone who is not our spouse in our bed. He can have a mistress in every city in Europe for all I care.”
“That’s sad,” I said flatly. “It’s truly sad.”
“No, what’s sad is living in a trailer with a junkie mom and working two jobs to save for a mediocre state-school education,” Madelaine countered.
“Wow,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “You’re a bitch.”
“I’m well aware,” she replied evenly. A second later she sighed regretfully. “But I’m a bitch who is trying to help you out.”
“Help me out how?” I demanded. “By throwing me into the very life you want a vacation from? By insulting me?”
Madelaine’s features softened slightly, and she sighed. “Look, Maddie, I get it. I’m a world class bitch. But I can help you and your mom.”
“She’s your mom, too,” I pointed out.
She waved a hand. “Whatever. I’ll set her up in a cushy rehab. I’ll get her clean with the best doctors. And when this summer is over? I’ll make sure there’s enough money in your bank account to fully fund your way through whatever school you want. I’ll give you enough so you can get an apartment off campus and not have to work a single hour when you're in school.”
The idea of taking her offer soured in my stomach. “I don’t need your pity money.”
“Maybe not, but it would make your life a lot easier. And if not for yourself, do it for your mom.”
I stared at her in open disgust. “Or you could be a decent human being and help her anyway because, again, she’s your mom, too.”
Madelaine made a face and shook her head. “I could, but I won’t. Maybe that makes me heartless, but you try growing up in my world, honey. I learned early on that life is one big negotiation.”
“And that’s all this is?” I ground out, hating that her true reasons for meeting me stung a lot more than I had expected.
“Yes.” She leaned forward, her blue eyes glittering. “But I’ll give you something no one else ever gave me. A little insight.”
“Do tell,” I said wryly.
“If someone comes to you looking for a favor? That means the deck is stacked in your favor.”
I studied her for a minute as the meaning of her words sunk in.
Madelaine was coming to me.
She needed me more than I needed her. And that meant I had power.
“No one will believe I’m you,” I finally said, shaking my head.
She smiled. “That’s the beauty of it. It’s summer vacation, and Daddy is hardly ever home. You’ll have a mansion full of servants to wait on your every need. You can sit poolside for weeks, just chilling out before senior year. Get a manicure every day, go shopping with my credit cards. You’ll have weeks to indulge in my life. It might be a cage, but it sure is pretty.”
“And you’re going to what? Live in my trailer?”
Her nose wrinkled. “God, no. I’ll be traveling. I’m thinking I’ll start in New York. Or maybe Paris. I plan on spending the summer having Evan fuck my brains out before I go back and slip into the role of Ryan Cain’s fiancé.”
I chuckled darkly, shaking my head. “This was never about meeting me or Mom, was it?”
Her lips thinned. “Meeting my birth mother? No. But I did want to meet you, Madison. You’re my twin. You’re part of me. And you also happen to be the only person who can help me.”
“Yet again, it’s all about you,” I pointed out.
She let out a frustrated groan. “We can help each other. Don’t you see that? And I really do want to help you.”
“Won’t it be obvious when the credit card bills show you in Paris and California?” I smirked at her, changing tactics to point out another flaw in her plan.
She gave me a knowing look. “Please. You think I haven’t planned this out? I have plenty of cash to cover my summer abroad.”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to go. Wanted to embrace the chance to have the summer of my dreams. But another part of me could see only all the ways this would go wrong.
“What about your fiancé?”
She snorted. “Ryan? He’s spending the summer in Japan or China or something. Probably building another well in Africa or whatever. Besides, we try to ignore each other as much as possible.”
“And your friends?”
Something passed over her face, but then cleared almost as fast. “My friends all have their own plans. I told them I was taking the summer for self-reflection.”
“Your dad? The people who live at your house?” I kept trying to stab holes in her reasoning.
“Mrs. Delancey is the only one you have to worry about, and I told you she pretty much keeps to herself. The staff doesn’t really notice us. They stay out of the way. And Daddy is traveling. He’s working on something big right now in Asia, so he and Uncle Adam won’t even be home until the end of summer,” she insisted.
My brows shot up. “I have an uncle?”
She tensed and slid her gaze away. “He’s a friend of Daddy’s. I just always called him that.”
I folded my arms, watching her closely. “So, you weren’t going to tell me that I dad I was hoping to meet won’t even be in the same country?”
She flinched at being caught in the lie. “He might wrap things up early, but no. He’ll probably be home right before I leave for school.”
Snorting, I rolled my eyes. “Awesome. God, do you even know how to tell the truth? What is it exactly that you want, Madelaine?”
Her lower lip trembled just a bit as she looked at me with more raw vulnerability than I’d seen. “Look, Maddie, I’m drowning, okay? Between school and cheer and my dad’s expectations and Ryan... I just need a break. Maybe it’s not fair that I’m putting this on you, but you’re literally the only person I can ask to help me.” Her eyes searched mine, begging me to understand. “I just want a normal summer with my boyfriend, preferably on a nude beach, before my life goes to shit.”
I could feel my resolve starting to crack.
“I need a fund set up for my mom, too,” I said slowly, wanting to make sure I covered all the bases. “I want her to be able to move out of the trailer park and into a better neighborhood. One where drugs aren’t being sold outside her door so she has a chance at staying clean.”
“Done,” she agreed quickly. “Hell, I’ll even kick back some of the trust to you guys if you want.”
I arched a brow. “Technically wouldn’t I be eligible for that trust also?”
“It goes to the oldest girl,” she replied with a tiny, unreadable shrug. “And according to the birth records? I’m older by thirteen minutes.”
“How convenient,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
“Help me out, Maddie, and I’ll make sure you and our mother are taken care of,” she said, her tone almost kind. “Having a sister might be kind of cool. And maybe we could switch lives every now and then. Then you could definitely meet Dad.”
“Let’s see if it even works the first time,” I answered.
Madelaine stood up with a grin. “Oh, it’ll work. Trust me, little sister.”
Chapter 6
“I’ll get that, miss,” the flight attendant assured me as I started to reach for my carryon bag several days later.
The flight from Detroit to Los Angeles had been smooth and uneventful with the exception of my minor panic attack at takeoff. My first time on a plane had been a trip.
Pun totally intended.
I wished I had arrived earlier at the airport so I could wander through all the shops and watch people run back and forth. It was fascinating to study them as they tried to navigate the pre-boarding chaos.
“I don’t mind,” I assured the attendant with a smile.
“I insist,” he replied quickly, eyes wide as he looked around. It was almost like he was worried that he would get in trouble for not doing his job if I kept stopping him.
With a sigh, I stepped back and allowed the man—who was a good four inches shorter than I was—to struggle with my carryon. I waited as he managed to pull it down after a few seconds of fighting with the suitcase and the bin.
Madelaine had gifted me with her wallet, which was full of credit cards, to buy whatever I wanted. She even encouraged it, saying it would help keep up the ruse that I was her since she loved to shop. Plus, there was an entire dressing suite waiting for me at her home.
A dressing suite.
I had needed to ask for clarification on what that even was. Apparently it was when your closet was big enough to have its own room and seating area.
Even still, I had crammed the memories of my past life into the brand-new carryon last night as I finished packing. I had even snagged a few of mom’s things, because the trailer would be empty for several weeks and I didn’t trust our neighbors not to take advantage.
Not that there was a lot to take. Mom had pawned, sold, or bartered most of the stuff that had any value over the years. I had kept a small stash of cash under a loose floorboard in my room, along with a few sentimental things I couldn’t help but keep over the years.
Everything fit into the brand-new case Madelaine had gifted me. And I was well aware that the suitcase had more monetary value than the contents inside it combined and multiplied by a hundred.
I took the sleek rose gold handle from the attendant and flashed him a smile as I started to disembark from the plane and followed the signs to where Madelaine said a car would be waiting to drive me home.
After stopping in the bathroom, I pulled the new phone out of my purse (also new) and powered it on. A message popped up a second later.
M: Made it to the rehab center okay. She’s checked in. Contact info is below. Have a fun summer. See you in two months.
The phone number and address of Mom’s ridiculously overpriced rehab facility was beneath the text.
Madelaine had really delivered on the rehab center for Mom. It wasn't the usual two-week or even thirty-day program; Mom would be there for six months.
Six months where she would get clean and be taught in-depth coping skills and how to assimilate into a drug-free life while meeting with nutrition experts and therapists. Enough time for me to enjoy the summer without worrying about her ODing again and to get myself started on the first semester of my senior year.
Madelaine and I had set up everything before I got on the plane. The only thing I felt guilty about was leaving Madelaine to drop off Mom at rehab since my sister claimed she couldn’t be gone for more than a week. Lainey’s trip to me was on the books as a spa retreat for seven days. If she wasn’t home when she was supposed to be, Mrs. Delancey—the Cabot’s cook and woman in charge of the day-to-day operations of the house—would call her dad—our dad—to report a possible problem. But the rehab facility couldn’t accept Mom until the day my plane departed for California.
And for the record, I felt guilty about leaving Mom, not Madelaine.
My sister could use a good reality check about the life she had narrowly avoided. Besides, Evan was helping her move Mom. Thankfully they hadn’t needed his muscle as Mom had happily followed Lainey to the car for an adventure.
I quickly tapped out a text message to thank her and sent it. A second later, my phone chimed with her response.
M: BTW, she’s actually kind of hysterical. Did you know she talks to plants when she’s cracked out? She thanked them for their sacrifice. Fucking wild.
I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother to answer as I shoved the phone back into my purse. It took all my focus to navigate through the crowded terminal and down to the baggage claim area where Madelaine had assured me a driver would be waiting.
As I descended the escalator, my eyes scanned the crowd. Relief hit me hard when I spotted a man in a suit with a digital sign that read CABOT.
I made my way to him and gave him a small smile. “Hi.”
