“Thank you for caring about us,” I said, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “It’s been a while since anyone has done that.”

He looked taken aback by my words.

“Just be careful, okay?” he urged.

I nodded and took a step back.

“I’ll fix this,” I vowed. “Please take care of my mom in the meantime.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but I was already turning on my heels and racing down the hallway.

I can’t be late for my welcome party.

* * *

My stomach twisted in knots, aching as I looked myself over in the mirror.

Music from the party filtered through the room, only making my nerves worse. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

They had provided an outfit for the welcoming party as a way of hiding who the girls truly were. Apparently, even the smallest detail could give away our identity, and they wanted to make sure it was a surprise until the very end.

My fingers rose to run along the edge of the shiny masquerade mask they’d given me.

It was made of a silver material and covered more than half my face. Each girl was assigned an animal, and mine was a cat. The ears were sharp, but not as sharp as the teeth displayed in the bottom half. It was lined with crystals and gems that shone in the dim light of the dressing room and matched the deep blue of my dress.

It was tight and shorter than I'd ever been allowed to wear, ending a bit higher than mid-thigh. The body was made of blue velvet, strapless, and the collar and hem were lined with more shine.

My hand trailed to the Swarovski collar on my neck. Chains with dangling crystals came out from it and circled my shoulders.

I was dressed up to look like a real woman. Beautiful. Desired. Elegant.

The type of woman the men out at the party would desire.

Even my hair was set in an elaborate updo.

“It’s time to go, A,” a warm voice said from the other side of the door.

I recognized it as the manager of the girls. My stomach flipped.

Can I really do this?

I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders, catching my blue eyes in the mirror.

“I can do this,” I whispered. For Mother. For Father.

For me.

I turned and opened the door.

Dante Sinclair met me with a shocked expression and a low whistle.

“Looking gorgeous, my love,” he said and held out an arm for me.

I took it and let him lead me out.

My face was heated at his compliment. When my family still had money, Dante and I ran in the same circles. The son of a billionaire who’d paved his own way was the talk of all moms with eligible daughters.

It didn’t hurt that he was hot.