Sasha’s not supposed to know about me, but she does. Most Morellis aren’t supposed to know about me, but a few secretly do. She’s just the only one who doesn’t ignore the fact that I exist.

“I hate when you call yourself the bastard,” she says.

“But it’s exactly what I am.”

“It sounds harsh, and I don’t even know why you want to be part of this family. It’s fucked,” she says. “You care too much about them.”

She’s right. I should be past my Daddy issues by now. I shouldn’t care what they think… but I do.

I obsessively do.

I watch my secret half brothers and sisters work the room with a skill and finesse you can only be born with. Yes, they’ve had the grooming, but there is so much more they have that I don’t. They represent wealth, power, and everything I desire. Dresses and tuxes worn that cost more money than I will ever see or even come close to having. They possess everything… and I have nothing unless I earn every cent on my own.

They have the Morelli name.

I do not.

Jealousy is an ugly bitch. I know this, but the green-eyed monster takes hold and refuses to let go. I’ve tried to walk away and never look back, but I can’t. The claws of the beast hold me in place—looking in from the outside.

I scan the room for my father. Bryant Morelli is somewhere, but where? Would he recognize me? Doubtful. But if he knew I’m crashing his party, he’d have me escorted out before people could even blink. So, I’m careful to not draw attention to myself as I watch.

I watch from afar, like always. It’s what I do. It’s who I’ve become.

I’m hiding by a Christmas tree that is decorated with nothing but red roses on every square inch of evergreen. A smaller one that no one seems to notice next to the huge, glimmering one that forms the centerpiece of the ballroom. It seems only fitting that the bastard daughter hides next to the bloodred-colored tree. I’m here, but not really. I watch as the guests continue to arrive, grateful that they scored an invitation to such an exclusive event. An invitation I never received.

The good, the bad, and the in-between mingle within these walls. Secrets, gossip, and threats blend with the music playing in the background.

I’ve studied each person on the guest list. I’ve researched, watched, and learned. Being the bastard gives me one advantage. I know them, but they don’t know me.

Bubbles of champagne blind all, and I’m out of sight which gives me the perfect view when he walks in. Of course, he would be a guest. How could you have a party and not invite him?