A few days later, the legal dust settled. Hiram booked a private train cabin, and they left Upstate New York, heading straight for the heart of the city.
The train glided to a smooth halt at the platform of Grand Central Terminal. The doors hissed open, and the chaotic, deafening roar of Manhattan rushed in.
Antoinette stepped off the train, walking closely behind Hiram. She looked around the massive, vaulted ceilings of the station, taking in the city she had never managed to reach in her previous life.
Alex pushed the luggage cart ahead of them, clearing a path through the sea of commuters toward the VIP pickup zone.
Standing near the exit was a girl. She wore a pristine, pastel Chanel tweed suit and a pair of delicate designer heels. Her hair was styled in perfect, bouncy waves.
It was Jaylyn Graves.
The moment Antoinette saw that face, her boots stopped dead on the concrete floor. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.
The phantom pain of falling down a flight of stairs hit her spine. The suffocating despair of having her reputation shredded by Jaylyn's vicious rumors clawed at her throat.
Antoinette's fingernails dug brutally into the palms of her hands, the sharp pain grounding her. She forced the toxic hatred down, burying it deep in her gut.
In a fraction of a second, her expression shifted. The cold fury vanished, replaced by the wide-eyed, slightly timid look of an overwhelmed small-town girl.
Jaylyn's eyes lit up when she saw Hiram. She broke into a sickeningly sweet smile and trotted over, her arms reaching out to loop through his.
Hiram shifted his weight, subtly turning his shoulder to avoid her grasp.
He reached back, grabbed Antoinette's wrist, and pulled her forward to stand beside him. "Jaylyn, this is Antoinette."
Jaylyn's hands dropped. Her perfect smile twitched, cracking for a microsecond before she forced it back into place.
She turned her bright eyes to Antoinette. "Oh my gosh, welcome! We are so happy to have you!" She grabbed Antoinette's hand, squeezing it with fake enthusiasm.
While she smiled, Jaylyn's eyes did a rapid, sweeping scan of Antoinette's plain jeans and simple sweater. The look was dripping with elitist disgust.
Antoinette fought the physical urge to vomit. She kept her head slightly bowed. "Thank you," she mumbled, acting shy.
Using the motion of looking down, Antoinette smoothly and firmly pulled her hand out of Jaylyn's grip.
Hiram's sharp eyes caught the subtle withdrawal.
His mind instantly flashed back to the dark alley. He assumed the traumatized girl was terrified of being touched by strangers.
Hiram's jaw tightened. He stepped forward, his large body physically cutting off Jaylyn's line of sight to Antoinette.
"She's exhausted from the trip," Hiram said, his voice clipped and cold. "We are going straight to the estate."
Without waiting for a response, Hiram did something he had never done before. As Alex reached for the small canvas duffel bag, Hiram's hand shot out first, securing the strap. "I've got this one," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument, carrying it himself.
He placed a large hand hovering just an inch behind Antoinette's back, guiding her toward the armored convoy waiting at the curb.
Jaylyn was left standing alone on the platform. She stared at Hiram's back, watching the cold, untouchable heir of the Graves family carry a cheap bag for a nobody.
The sweet mask melted off Jaylyn's face. Pure, venomous jealousy burned in her eyes. She ground her teeth together so hard her jaw ached.
She stomped her heel against the concrete and followed them out, her mind already spinning a web to destroy this interloper.
At the curb, Hiram personally pulled open the heavy door of the SUV for Antoinette. He placed his hand over the doorframe to protect her head as she climbed in.
Antoinette slid onto the leather seat. She looked through the dark tinted window at Jaylyn's furious, pale face outside.
A slow, ice-cold smirk curved onto Antoinette's lips. Let the games begin.
