We Were One Once Book 1 by Willow Madison Page B

heated words I feel on my
tongue.
    I adopt the soothing tone my
mother used when I was a child. Even though I haven’t talked
to her in years,
cutting off all contact after my father married Anya, I can still
hear her sweet voice putting me to bed.
    I cut off ties with Mother
after I met Gillian. I used it as an excuse to get closer to
Father, to be granted further access to his home and new family. He
had no use for my mother; I needed to prove that I was his son more than hers. I
needed to claim my rightful place as his heir, as the future of his
beloved company.
    He never suspected my real
motivation for wanting to be closer. He was blind when it came to
people. He understood dollars and stats more than feelings and
behavior. Martin Vanderson was a genius in business but an imbecile
at home.
    And Miles Vanderson, his
son and only hope for the continuation of his legacy? I am a genius
in both. I smile at this thought. I know it’s not completely true,
only half. If I was a genius at home, I would’ve seen through the
lies Gillian told me. I would’ve known she was planning her escape.
I would’ve stopped her before she ever had a chance to step one
foot out of my reach, before she ever had the chance to become this
Grace Martin person she’s pretending to be.
    That was yet another spite
to me, I’m sure, choosing a name that ties her to my father more
than me. She’s rubbing my nose in my failed plans for
us.
    Getting into bed nude, the
cool sheets are comforting against my electrified skin. I lie
perfectly still, my steepled fingers on my chest rising and falling
the only movement, as I relive the past. I might as well; I won’t
be getting the rest I need tonight. I won’t be able to quiet my
mind. I haven’t been able to silence my thoughts since Gillian
entered my life six years ago.
    I might as well torture
myself with the memories I have. It’s a familiar bedtime story I
like to savor: the Prince saving the poor Stepsister from an evil
witch, the white knight hero that always gets the girl in the end.
Their happily ever after is always an epic love story for the
ages.
    Gillian did need saving.
The fairytales of old never held a candle to the horrors that girl
had been through. Her body was a litany of miseries at the hands of
her mother. Her tears were the ink that dried all too quickly after
each new grim fable. Her mind was shattered with too many tales to
be held together in one volume.
    Gillian was the sum of all
her terror, more beautiful than any girl has the right to be after
experiencing so much evil. But she wasn’t untouched by that evil,
not always. There were moments when I would witness the real her.
I’d see the parts she kept hidden away, safe behind her vacant,
unblinking, angelic face.
    I’d catch a glimpse when
she was doodling at the kitchen table while the staff prepared
breakfast around her; when she was angry, smashing and thrashing
around, thinking no one would see her; when she was seductive,
using her body to tease and tempt any male around; and my personal
favorite, when she was withdrawn, shelling up in herself to avoid
more anguish, reading her books. She was all of these, hidden
behind her innocent and pleasant facade .
    I never understood how my
father failed to see any of this. The staff all took notice of her
odd behaviors, but they were all too well paid and trained to say
anything. Her mother knew. Of course she did. She was the witch in
this story.
    I did see what my father saw in her mother though. Anya had played
him. Or she thought she had. She had no idea the prison she was
signing up for when she agreed to marry the wealthy Martin
Vanderson so quickly. She was beautiful, a 31 year old version of
Gillian. She was charming and sweet, at least when she was around
other people. She never showed her true self to anyone except her
daughter and, of course, me. My father never saw the real Anya; of
that, I am sure.
    Eventually, she showed
herself to me. I forced her to. It