Damon
I walked away $120,000 richer when the game broke up. Though these poker games were meant to be more social occasions, it helped that we played with millionaires and billionaires who loved to throw their money around.
There were a few fixtures at the table, Jackson and Christian Ryder, Francis Duval, New York Police Commissioner Richard Burns, the Hale family lawyer Dean Jacobs (for all the legal shit we did do occasionally), my father and me. Then, there were the rotating members, the ones who had to be invited to the table on a weekly basis. Millionaire hedge-fund managers, oil tycoons, Senators, and other men of prominence.
In the few months that my father had ordered me to tag along to the games because I hated social shit to the highest degree, I mostly observed.
I was there for specific reasons: to watch. To study. To learn. To internalize the tells of every single person at the table and find their weaknesses. Every single game was a reconnaissance mission.
The games weren't all terrible, though–it gave me a chance to catch up with my best friends too, Christian Ryder and Francis Duval. Despite their names, these two were about as priestly as Hugh Hefner, especially the former.
Christian was ruthless. Ever since we were kids, he picked fights and won them, no matter the cost. Soon to be the head of his family's billionaire business, he'd externally cleaned up his act and was the perfect face for the company. Never mind that he still daily dipped his dick into the pool of New York's long-legged bronze-skinned ladies who externally looked like sweet, innocent maidens. When Christian underwent his massive personality overhaul, it took a lot out of him. The boy who left was not the same who came back and that transformation broke hearts everywhere, some very close to home. The Stanford and Columbia graduate and New York's biggest heartthrob had a temper that no one could control. The fucker had a pretty face–a player of massive proportions and had a sour reputation with women. Placidly indifferent to the world, he didn't care what people thought of him. Christian was cunning, resourceful, and turned everything he touched into cold hard money.
Francis Duval was too smart for his own good. To call him brilliant would be like saying the Burj Khalifa was tall. He came from old money and a fucked-up family but worked hard to put that all behind him. He'd been through more than most people should have to endure in their lifetime and matured quickly because of it. Mensa IQ of 148 and a photographic memory, he wasn't the kind of man anyone bet against. Literally. Even though he was six years younger than me and Christian, he exuded a kind of confidence that made him seem like the most established person in the world. He had an uncanny ability to know everything about someone before he even spoke to them. Reading people was his hobby and he excelled at it. When we were kids, every prediction he made came true. Some of which were truly alarming. He was a human lie detector, and I trusted his instincts about people more than I trusted myself. Probably also why he was a criminal lawyer who could probably get Charles Manson off after the world saw the Manson tapes. Dark blond hair, green eyes, and chiseled to glory, there was good reason why a high class woman like Bella Ryder fell for him. Suffice it to say, I was glad he was on my side.
Unlike Christian, who seemed destined to stay unmarried, Francis fell for Bella Ryder and he fell hard. It was sickening. His heart beat only for her. The two of them were childhood enemies at first, part of our little group, and though we probably all should have seen it coming, it was still shocking because they had the most angsty, drawn-out relationship I had ever seen. Rumor had it that Francis told Christian he'd marry his sister the first time he laid eyes on her and he ended up being right, seeing as they were engaged now.
Bella Ryder was a complete badass, my lifeline, and my best fucking friend even if she was seven years younger than me. She was loyal to a fault and one of the only people I liked to talk to for long periods of time. She wasn't ever afraid to tell me shit to my face, to admonish me for being stupid, or to boss me around. I had a lot of respect for her. We shared a love for food and cooking–she was my go-to if I wanted to try somewhere new in the city and she always had a say in the menus at my restaurants. Isabella Marie Ryder was confident, a talkative social butterfly, basked in the limelight of fame, accomplished in many ways, and a talented Public Relations savant who worked for her father as well. There wasn't a lot she couldn't do.
Now the middle Ryder sibling–she was one to watch.
And watch, I did.
Because she was my biggest fucking weakness.
Ariadne Cara Ryder.
All of the attitude couldn't be contained in her frame, often slipping at the seams and blurting out of her mouth. And yet, there was never a sliver of remorse when her words hit. She knew how to hurt with her mouth and she was proud of it. I'd known her since we were kids. That part never changed.
While Christian and Bella played huge roles in the Ryder family business, Ariadne had no interest whatsoever. She never bothered, never cared, and was never involved. Money never meant a single thing to her. She became a doctor like her mother, almost as if to spite her family's generations of renown money-makers. There was no doubt that she was intelligent, graduating at the top of her class from Johns Hopkins and Harvard Medical School. She spent her time at clinics or children's shelters, helping those in need and stayed far away from the Hales. Despite her father's insistence, she travelled without security everywhere, refusing to be seen as Jackson Ryder's daughter.
Her poisonous words were well hidden behind a façade of beauty. Externally, she was regal, elegant, and effortlessly flawless with the same dark brown hair as her brother, but her eyes were a deeper shade of brown, more like chocolate than coffee. I'd memorized every part of her face over the years: high cheekbones, sharp nose, and full lips to complete her face, with curves and legs that would drive even a cold-blooded man insane.
She was my fucking obsession. My weakness. The person I spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about.
Why did the most perfect woman on the planet have to be the one who didn't care if I was dead or alive?
She considered herself the least valuable sibling. The one who was unknown. The one who people didn't care about. The forgotten one. It was evident in the way she'd always hang back and let her siblings take the attention. The way she skillfully excused herself from conversations if either of them were around. But physically, academically, or probably any other way, she was wrong. Of the three siblings, she was the most striking to me and her job, the most noble.
Ariadne Ryder was the kind of girl who didn't give a person the time of day if she didn't care about them. For my entire life, I'd been one of those people.
And I couldn't care less. I had to teach myself not to care, granted. Ariadne confused me since childhood. I didn't understand what about her made me lose control of myself.
Well, I did.
But I would rather take a bullet than admit it–and I'd taken a few bullets in my lifetime.
She was quiet for the most part like me, but unlike me, she was unfailingly kind. Even though she was surrounded by noise her entire life, she preferred silence. For years, I worked to ignore her, push her away, make my mind not think of her at all because I knew what would happen if I allowed her into my life.
Not only because she deserved better than a soulless monster like me but because I had different, bigger, and much more important things to focus on. I was 32 years old, and, in a few months, my father would step down as the head of the Hale family and it would come upon me to take his place.
Most families transitioned much sooner but I wanted to go to college and my father supported me. I always thought a part of him was grateful. The man loved being in power. He loved being "The Boss". I was happier being the silent shadow in the background who took care of things.
I didn't care that people don't know anything about me other than my name.
I preferred that.
I preferred the unknown.
I preferred the silence.
Ariadne
Going back to the living room was a mistake, but I couldn't stay in a room where money was being thrown around in such a reckless fashion.
Immediately bombarded with hugs and kisses from Maria Hale, Anthony's wife who I adored, and all the other people in the kitchen and family room. I felt suffocated with love by the time I finished my greetings. It was quite a lot of social interaction for me in a day.
I passed Claudia a curt hello and searched for Robyn, Damon's younger sister.
Claudia Hunt technically never did anything to me. But she was my father's mistress before my mother died. And Bella was her daughter. It was never spoken of, but the resemblance was clear. While Christian and I had the same brown hair and eyes as our mother, Bella was a striking blonde with cobalt blue eyes, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. People constantly gawked at her and then wondered how the hell the two of us were related, because I was anything but beautiful. Luckily for my father, the news of Claudia's pregnancy came almost right after my mother had died so it was "convenient" for him to marry her.
To the public, Bella's birth was legitimate, the daughter of Jackson Ryder and his second wife, Claudia Hunt. But Christian and I knew the truth, no matter how much my father tried to pull the wool over our eyes. My father was a decent man. But not a good father. Everyone knew it. Including him.
And despite that, all I ever wanted was for him to love me the way he loved my sister.
My mother, Catherine Ryder, died when I was younger. It broke my heart. I grew up listening to stories about her from everyone. She was so incredibly loved and I tried every day to be like her. She was an oncologist, a singer, a phenomenal and loving mother, and the epitome of kindness. However broken I was, it was nothing compared to the pain Christian felt every single day at her death.
Robyn and Bella were huddled in a corner, admiring Bella's new ring like they had been for so long now and I plopped down next to them, almost spilling my glass of wine on the couch. Kicking my shoes off and crossing my legs, I sank into the leather, taking a long sip.
"Ariadne, really now... Some decorum, please?" Bella cooed. I rolled my eyes. Despite being three years younger than me, she was always prim and proper, the perfect woman. She'd been like that when she was twelve, and she'd be like that until the day she died.
"You're soon to be married, Bella. Me slouching shouldn't bother you," I drawled.
"I suppose I should give up after 25 years," Bella grinned, that smile on her face comparable to the shiniest things on Earth.
"Precisely. Besides, have you seen the way men sit? Why don't you take your complaints down to your fiancé?"
Bella shot me a look. "Are you saying my husband is slouching? I don't think he's capable of that, Ariadne."
I conceded that. "Well, I think he just lost to your brother, Robyn," I directed my last remark at the Italian girl next to me, and she looked at me with laughter in her eyes.
The younger of two siblings and a year younger than me–but skipped a grade because she was brilliant–Robyn had olive skin to go with her lighter brown hair and blue eyes. She was always the most stunning woman in the room, even if she didn't think so. Quite like me, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with her father's business. The Hales adopted Robyn at a young age but she was the most loved member of the family. Extraordinarily intelligent, insufferably kind to everyone, and a talented artist. I loved her dearly.
Apart from my sister, she was my closest friend and when the three of us met, we were inseparable. We experienced everything together: first crushes, heartache, riding bikes, painting, everything. She was my rock. My anchor. The voice of reason. The brightest light in a dark world–always cheerful, warm, and friendly. She had so much love to give and she gave it freely though most of her attention was currently directed toward Dean Jacobs, the Hale family lawyer, with whom she currently had a crush the size of Australia.
"There's no way Francis lost–I don't think he even knows how to do it. I'm sure Damon will get his ass kicked sometime soon," she smiled. I had to return it because she was just that kind of girl. She had the most infectious smile.
"Honestly, Ariadne. I don't know why you go down there. It's so bleugh," Bella snapped.
Laughter rose in me, because I didn't want to go anywhere there were other people to begin with. "Oh come on, Bella. If there were monsters in your house, wouldn't you want to see it?"
Before she had a chance to respond, a husky gruff voice spoke behind me.
"Monster seems a little harsh. Even for you, princess."