Lost King by Piper Lennox (best self help books to read .TXT) 📕

When I gave my mom the business card of Paige’s uncle, she shook her head. “No way in hell we’re trusting one of those people.”

I thought she meant lawyers, but soon realized it was because of his link to someone, anyone, in the Hamptons. They were all evil now, in her mind.

Maybe I should have shared that opinion, but I was grateful to Paige. She spent weeks emailing me updates and support, with the repeated offer that I could talk to her anytime I needed a friend.

I thanked her, but eventually stopped writing back. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust her. I just wanted to forget.

With the help of a pro bono lawyer in Jersey, we did get most of the main videos taken down, along with the cell phone shots of my face.

Videos of my confrontation with Theo in the kitchen, however, remained. They floated around more lazily than the others, limited to Hamptons kids’ group chats and some tertiary cliques, according to one of Paige’s unanswered updates.

Foolish as it sounded, I wanted those videos gone the most.

Ultimately, I knew I had no real options. The video wasn’t pornographic. There was no invasion of privacy, and no proof of defamation. All versions of it were shaky, five- to ten-second clips that barely caught anyone’s face.

But the audio…that was crystal-clear.

His slurred, husky voice ordering me to leave still made me sick to my stomach. I wanted the moment destroyed.

On the other hand, like I often reminded Callum…I also wanted it forgotten. And I couldn’t have both.

So I let the clips live on, without mentioning them to my mother or the lawyer, and focused on the rest. Little by little, we cleansed the internet of my drunken mistake. Life slowly crawled onward.

I knew, like a deadly and persistent tumor, that night would never truly be gone. But we could get the bulk of it. With enough grace and luck, I’d survive.

At first, I coped by staying silent. Letting everyone else’s outrage and disbelief eclipse my own was the only thing I could bear to do, because I knew if I let mine out...I would never be able to cage it again.

Then the daydreams started.

It helped, imagining all the ways I could exact revenge on Theo Durham. Most of my fantasies involved stealing his money, initially. Callum liked joining in. We’d joke about robbing Theo blind through some kind of scam.

“Blackmail,” he’d smirk. “Guy like that’s gotta have secrets.”

“I’m sure he does. But guys like that also guard them with the best defense money can buy.”

We joked about getting Hale and Cill and all Callum’s connections together, cornering Theo in a dark parking lot, and beating him up. We joked about framing him for something. Stealing his car. A million little ways to ruin his life.

It helped. But the memories still hurt.

As my anger settled into a fossilized lump in my stomach—no longer flaring or disrupting my daily life, but always there—the fantasies faded. Revenge was still tempting; I just also knew life had to go on. No point getting stuck in the past.

Then Mom got sick, and everything changed again.

Returning to the Hamptons this year was never my first choice. Just the only one I really had. Waiting tables wasn’t cutting it. Staying in Jersey wasn’t cutting it.

And, truth be told, I wasn’t a great waitress. I forgot to put in salads before entrées. Drink refills slipped my mind. At least once a week, I dropped a pitcher of lemonade or entire tray of food.

But cleaning houses: that, I knew I could do. I’d done it practically my whole life. I was good at cleaning messes, not preventing them.

Mom thought it was a horrible idea. “Nothing but bad memories waiting for you,” she huffed at dinner, the night I announced my plans. “Not to mention all the severed connections. Everyone out there knows you’re my kid.”

“I don’t look anything like I used to,” I pointed out. “And I won’t be using Jacobs. I’ll go by Paulsen.”

“Except on your tax forms.”

“Which,” Aunt Thalia piped up, “only HR is permitted to see, and they won’t tell anyone. They won’t even notice.” She winked at me, telling Mom, “It’ll be fine, Serena. You’re overreacting.”

I smiled and nudged her shin with my foot as thanks. I think she just wanted one less mouth at this table for a while, but still.

“You’ll be all alone out there,” Mom added. She was starting to sound desperate, and it broke my heart.

“Frankie and Hale and all those guys are still out there. And Callum just moved there permanently, too.”

“Oof,” Aunt Thalia snickered, while Mom rubbed her temples and said, “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

I bypassed this. “Callum’s helping his brother run their dad’s landscaping business. They said I can help winterize pools, if housekeeping slows down in the off-season.” I stabbed into my salad, then pointed some wilted spinach leaves her way. “Which means more money. Which we need.”

“We’re doing fine.”

Aunt Thalia drew a breath, like she wanted to debate this. Mom shut her up with a glare.

I knew I’d won the argument, though. There was no reason for me not to go, and no way my mother could stop me.

She was, unfortunately, very right about one thing.

As soon as I got there, memories swooped down and picked my carcass clean. The rage I’d kept quiet like a stowaway took over, every time I had to drive past Theo’s house.

Every time I looked at the bay.

Every single time I had to give someone a fake last name, just so they’d deign to let me scrub their toilets.

So, no: I never actually planned for revenge.