Be Mine

The world flies by as the plane glides over the ocean. Thick clouds swallowthe purple and blue waves below, hiding everything beneath them. Even the birdsdisappear into the gray as we approach the UK.

There are only six people in first class: me, my mom, her brand-new husband,two bodyguards, and a little old woman who hasn’t said a word the entireflight.

The plane shudders with light turbulence, enough to make the glass inmy hand tremble. A flight attendant walks down the aisle with a cart of drinksand peanuts, wobbling slightly in her heels like she’s one bad step away fromfalling.

The flight is almost over.Unfortunately, that means everything else is just beginning.

My name is Jessica. Jess, if you actually know me—which most people don’t.

I’m not the kind of girl people notice. I don’t try to be. Life’s easierwhen you stay out of the way, keep your head down, and don’t give anyone areason to look too closely. I have a couple of friends back home.

Real ones.

The kind who don’t ask questions when you go quiet, who understand that silenceisn’t always empty.

That was my life.

Simple.

Predictable.

Mine.

Then my mom got married. Two days ago. On a business trip. Because apparently that’s something people do now—pick up a husband betweenmeetings and expect their kid to just… adjust.

Now I’m on a plane, crossing an ocean I never asked to cross, heading to acountry I’ve never lived in, about to start at a school where I don’t know asingle person. And the best part? I have a whole set of new siblings waiting for me. Four older brothers andone younger. Five strangers I’m supposed to call family.

Sounds perfect, right? I press my forehead lightly against the window, watching the clouds rollbeneath us as the captain announces our descent.

His voice is calm. Reassuring.

Like everything about this is normal.

It’s not.

Nothing about this feels normal. My new stepfather is some powerful CEO in London. Important. Respected.

Thekind of man people probably stand up straighter around. I don’t care.A title doesn’t make him my family. I just want this part over with—the fake smiles, the introductions, thepretending.

I’ll say what I’m supposed to say, do what’s expected, and then disappear into whatever room they give me. That’s what I’m good at.

Disappearing.

I tighten my grip on my headphones, already counting down the minutes untilI can shut the world out and turn the volume up loud enough to drown outeverything I didn’t choose.

Welcome to my life. The one that was simple yesterday—and completely unrecognizable today.