Chapter 2 - The Price of the Face
The morning after the party, the coastal estate felt like a hollow shell. The white lanterns were still hanging from the trees, some of them deflated and dripping with morning dew, but the guests were long gone. The driveway, usually packed with luxury SUVs and sports cars, was empty except for a single black sedan belonging to Mr. Harrison.
I sat in the morning room, drinking black coffee. For the first time in my life, I wasn't wearing a high-collared shirt. I wore a simple gray tank top. My scars were visible to anyone who walked in, and for some reason, the cool morning breeze against my skin felt like a victory.
The door creaked open, and my father walked in. He looked ten years older. The crisp, confident businessman who handled multi-million-dollar distribution deals was gone; in his place was a tired man with deep bags under his eyes and a slight stoop in his shoulders.
"The federal investigators spent five hours searching the home office last night," he said, his voice flat. "They took the hard drives. They took the old filing cabinets from the basement. The ones we thought were safe."
"They were never safe, Dad," I said, not looking up from my cup. "You just thought I was too broken to look for the keys."
He let out a long, ragged sigh and sat across from me. "I didn't know Lila was in the pool house that night, Nora. I swear to you. If I had known..."
"You still locked the door," I pointed out, my voice devoid of anger, which made it far more lethal. "You locked it to ensure a complete burn. You wanted the insurance company to pay out without asking questions about the missing inventory. If I hadn't heard Lila screaming, she would have died in there. And when I dragged her out, you didn't call the police. You called your corporate lawyer."
He closed his eyes. "We did what we had to do to survive. If the company had failed back then, we would have lost everything. This house, your school, the treatments..."
"My treatments?" I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "You stopped my reconstructive surgeries when I was fourteen because Mother said the scars made for a 'compelling story of survival' when we did private donor meetings. You kept me hidden in the shadows because a scarred twin made the beautiful twin look even more perfect. It was branding, Dad. You branded me with fire, and then you branded me with silence."
Before he could answer, the front door slammed open. My mother’s voice carried down the hallway, sharp and hysterical.
"I don't care about the shares, Arthur! We need to freeze her accounts! She’s minor until the end of the day—"
"Actually, Mrs. Vance, as of 12:01 AM today, both of your daughters are legal adults," Mr. Harrison’s voice interrupted as he stepped into the morning room behind her. "And under the terms of your mother-in-law’s will, the trust assets have already been split. Nora's fifty percent share of Aura Skin is now under her direct, exclusive control."
My mother froze in the doorway. She was wearing a silk wrap, her hair unbrushed, her face completely devoid of the makeup that usually hid her aging skin. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of terror and pure venom.
"You think you're smart, don't you?" she spat, pointing a trembling finger at me. "You think you can run a cosmetics empire? You're a recluse! You've spent your entire life hiding in your room reading books! The board will never accept you. The shareholders will dump the stock the moment they see you representing us!"
"I’m not representing Aura Skin, Mother," I said, standing up and smoothing down my tank top. "I’m auditing it."
I looked at Mr. Harrison, who handed me a thick blue folder.
"Over the last three years, while I was supposedly 'recovering' in those private clinics you sent me to, I wasn't just resting," I explained, looking my mother dead in the eyes. "I was studying the supply chain logistics. I know that Aura Skin has been sourcing its 'organic marine collagen' from cheap chemical laboratories in Eastern Europe that use banned synthetic polymers—the very same polymers that make the skin look tight for twenty-four hours but cause severe cellular degradation over time."
My mother’s breath hitched. She took a step back, her hand flying to her throat.
"If that information gets out..." she whispered.
"It is already out," I said. "I sent the lab reports to the FDA yesterday morning. By noon today, there will be a nationwide recall on your entire 'Aura Youth' product line."
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"You killed us," she whispered, collapsing against the doorframe. "You killed this family."
"No," I replied, walking past her toward the front door. "You killed this family ten years ago. I'm just finally burying the corpse."
