The Billionaire’s Revenge, chapter two

I tossed the last dress into my trunk, grinning. Tonight is finally the night. It’s been a long and crazy lead-up—first convincing Dad that I’d be fine going to college in California, so far away from him, and then managing all the details from here.

He only let me visit once last year, to scope out the campus before I made my final decision. It was an awesome time, especially to hang out with Cece in her native territory. Normally, I only see her and Mom when they come to visit New York since Dad doesn’t like me traveling alone, and he doesn’t like leaving town himself.

Cece’s still wilder than I am, though once I hung out with her in person, I realized that a lot of the photos she sends me bragging about her crazy adventures are exaggerated. Even though I’m 21 and she’s only 19, she already drinks more than I do, but that’s just 2-3 drinks per party, and then she’s back home by one or two in the morning. I’d been a little nervous that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with her, but we had fun.

Heck, I think a few guys were even flirting with me. I wonder if any of the guys who attended the open campus weekend decided to enroll there, and if so, whether any of them will be in my classes. Maybe I’ll run into them at orientation tomorrow— tomorrow, I think, still stunned by how quickly my life is changing.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the princess that Dad kept locked in his tower. Stuck on this sprawling estate, only allowed out to go to school or school-sponsored events. I want to stretch my wings, travel, and now that I’m finally off to college, it’s about time to do that.

I grin at my suitcases, proud of myself. I managed to fit everything I’ll need for the year into two suitcases—though admittedly, pretty large ones. Anything else I need, Dad has assured me I can charge it to him when I get to campus.

“That includes a plane ticket home if you change your mind,” he added when he gave me the credit card, and from the worried look in his eyes and the crease between his brows, I don’t think he was 100% joking about that.

Well, sorry Dad, but I won’t be changing my mind , I think as I zip my suitcase closed for the last time. I can’t wait for Cali weather. To see Mom more, to go on adventures with Cece.

And to start classes—I’m following in my mother’s footsteps and studying art, my lifelong dream. I can’t wait to dive in. The whole world is at my fingertips.

I’m finally free, and I’m going to make the most of it. I haul my suitcase off the bed and drag it into the hall beside my other suitcase. Gerard, our butler, meets me at the top of the stairs.

“I’ll take those, Miss Badiary,” he says, grabbing them both before I can protest.

“Gerard. How many times do I have to ask you to just call me Pamona?”

“At least once more, Miss Badiary,” he replies, a twinkle in his eye as he descends the steps in front of me, suitcases in hand.

I swear he does this just to annoy me. “Shall I have Andrew start the Porsche?”

Andrew is our chef, though he doubles as a handyman and a driver. “No, don’t bother him. I called a taxi.”

Gerard pauses on the stairs, looking over his shoulder at me. “Are you sure that’s wise? Your father asked me to have Andrew drive you personally…”

I roll my eyes. “Dad is paranoid, Gerard, and you know it. I’ll be perfectly fine. And tell Dad that if he was so worried about my safety, he’d be here to see me off himself, not off at that stupid conference or whatever.”

Gerard’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t disagree. He sets my suitcases side-by-side in the foyer and reaches out to pat my shoulder. “I’m sure your father wishes he could be here, Pamona.”

I flinch at the sympathy in his tone. Gerard has been working for us long enough to know exactly how my father is—overprotective as hell, and yet, for all that he claims to care about my wellbeing and safety, he’s never around when I actually need him. Just like now.

Just like always lately—his occasional irritable evenings have morphed into a constant stream of bad moods. I can’t remember the last time I saw my father smile or spotted him without deep stress lines carved across his face. “Well, he’s not, so…”

I brush off Gerard’s hand and pick up my bags myself. “I’ll take it from here.”

I toss my shoulders back, straightening. I’ve got this. “Yes,”

Gerard agrees, to my surprise. When I glance back, there’s a sad look in his eye, something almost like regret. “I believe you will.”

Then he’s gone back to his regular duties. I don’t know the half of everything Gerard does for our family, cloistered away in Dad’s study bent over the accounting books Dad keeps, and I have a feeling that I don’t want to know. I like Gerard too much to think about how dirty his hands must be.

Then again, they can’t be anywhere near as dirty as my father’s. I shake the thoughts from my mind and check my phone. The taxi will be here in five minutes, and this house already feels like the past to me.

I need to get some fresh air. Step out of this dungeon and into the future. I wrench the door open and stride out into the chilly fall evening.

The air smells crisp, layered with falling leaves and a hint of snow on the breeze. It’s early for snow, even here in upstate New York, but the weather has been odd lately, so who knows what could happen. I won’t have to worry about it, though.

Pretty soon I’ll be basking in the California sunshine, watching sunsets over the ocean and enjoying the sea breeze. A smile drifts over my face, and I close the door behind me to settle down on the stoop to wait. And wait.

And wait. The taxi never comes. Fifteen minutes later, I sigh and turn around to head back inside.

“Gerard?”

I call when I reach the foyer. But there’s no reply. That’s strange, I think as I stride through the halls.

I check the study, but it’s empty. There’s a chill throughout the house, one I didn’t notice before. I shiver as I leave the study and hurry through the hallway, back toward the kitchen.

“Andrew?”

I call. “Gerard?”

No answer. Something about the way my voice echoes in the empty house is starting to give me the chills. I walk faster now, practically jogging, all the way back to the garage.

But when I wrench open the door, it’s empty too. No cars; not Gerard’s or Andrew’s, or even Dad’s Corvette. I back away from the door, my stomach curling.

Something is wrong. There’s a sharp buzz, and I let out a yelp. Then I laugh, my heart still pounding, trying to relax.

The doorbell. Gerard probably just went to look for me and got locked out, that’s all. Or maybe they went to run an errand and my taxi finally arrived.

Shaking my head, internally chiding myself for getting spooked so easily, I hurry back through the long hallways of the house to the front door.