My Vegas Prince

<<< Skylar >>>

So here I am, stuck at this ridiculously oversized conference table, surrounded by my so-called “family.” Today’s the big day - my father’s will reading. Yep, dear old Dad, former head honcho of the Las Vegas mob, has finally left the building.

I grew up watching drugs shuffle through his casino like some kind of sinister magic trick. And don’t even get me started on the money laundering. The casino was basically his personal piggy bank for that.

Across from me sits the queen of evil herself, my lovely stepmother, Scarlett. She’s giving me a death glare with her arms crossed like she’s trying to set me on fire with her mind.

Girl, take a number.

To make matters worse? We look alike. I mean, it’s freaky. People always assume she’s my biological mother. We both have black hair, brown eyes, an oval face, and, of course, we’re practically the same height - nature’s idea of a bad joke. Every time someone chirps, “like mother, like daughter,” her face twists like she just sucked on a lemon. Trust me, the feelings mutual.

The biggest difference between us? I’m not straight-up wicked. Evil just oozes out of her pores without her even trying. She’s literally the villain from my nightmares - the terrifying ones that make me wake up sweating.

A few years ago, my father made Scarlett his second-in-command. I’m convinced that’s why she targeted him in the first place. She had her sights set on power, and the quickest route was to marry the man who had it.

My father was ruthless. Cross him once, and you’d find yourself six feet under in the middle of the desert. His hitman side gig wasn’t exactly my favorite part of him.

Scarlett, though? She’s in a league of her own. She makes my father look like an actual saint. Maybe it’s because she used me as her personal punching bag whenever Dad wasn’t around. The first time she hit me? It wasn’t long after their wedding. I was fifteen and terrified. So I did what any teenager would do - I ran straight to my father and tattled. When there were no marks to back up my story? He took her side. She has this twisted superpower of never leaving a mark unless she wants to. It’s a skill she’s mastered.

In no time, I was branded the girl who cried wolf. So, I stopped trying. I’ll never forget the first day I didn’t rat Scarlett out when my father returned home. The way she smiled at me, like she’d won? Felt like a knife to my chest.

After that, my relationship with Dad got… well, let’s just say “strained” is putting it mildly. We never patched things up before he died. I know he loved me, but it’s hard to ignore that he chose her over me. His own daughter. Talk about a gut punch.

And then there’s my stepbrother, Eli, sitting beside Scarlett, smirking at me. He’s two years older than me, with short, spiky black hair and somehow still rocking a baby face at 25.

Eli was always there, lurking in the corner during my “punishments,” grinning like it was the highlight of his day. Knowing Eli, he was probably jotting down mental notes on how to perfect his own brand of cruelty. He’s Scarlett’s evil spawn, through and through. One day he’ll be just like her - oh wait, scratch that. He already is.

Eli never beat me as severely as Scarlett, but he definitely gave it his best shot. It was like she was grooming him to be her twisted little clone, teaching him the art of leaving no evidence. Who was the unfortunate guinea pig? Yep, that’d be me.

By the time I turned seventeen, I’d had enough. I started Taekwondo to learn how to defend myself. One day I will fight back. It also gave me a chance to escape that house of horrors - my home that had once been filled with love when Mom was alive.

After my mom passed, my father spiraled into a deep, dark depression. She was the love of his life. Suddenly, he became obsessed with finding whoever was responsible. But justice? Yeah, that was never served. Those years were rough - until Scarlett waltzed in like she was some kind of savior, pulling him out of the abyss he was drowning in. At the time, I thought it was a good thing. Looking back? Let’s just chalk that up to me being young, dumb, and naïve, since it quickly morphed into my worst nightmare.

Seated beside me is Dean. Scarlett oh-so-conveniently promoted him to second-in-command after my dad passed. Coincidence? Sure, if you believe in fairy tales. Their little power play has been in the works since day one. How do I know? Oh, just the fact that I walked in on them playing a serious game of tonsil hockey in her office when I was 19. Talk about scarring.

Naturally, I told my father. And what did Scarlett do? She spun that situation faster than a DJ on a Friday night. Classic gaslighting, 101. According to her, I was just a “grieving stepdaughter” trying to wreck her perfect little life because I couldn’t cope with losing my mom. She straight-up told him I made up the entire thing. Can you believe it?

The worst part? Dad bought her lie.

My personal favorite? When she claimed I was trying to “drive a wedge” between her and Dad because I wanted him all to myself. Yep, she actually went there. And, surprise, surprise - Father took her side. Apparently, because I’d “cried wolf” too many times. My credibility was in the dumpster.

Oh, and Scarlett? She’s practically an Oscar-worthy performer when it comes to fake tears. I’m telling you, the woman can weep on demand like it’s a sport. She seriously missed her calling. Every time a tear slid down her cheek, my father would melt like butter on a hot skillet. Hook, line, and sinker. Every. Freaking. Time.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wanted to bail from this life. Seriously, who actually wants to be tied to the mob? Spoiler alert: no one - unless you’re a power hungry psycho. For me, there’s no escape. Scarlett’s got me trapped while dishing out crappy jobs like she’s doing me a favor. She snatches up every penny I earn. What she doesn’t know is I’ve been stashing some cash on the side - shout out to side hustles. One day, I’m going to have enough to ditch this place. She’ll never see it coming.

I tried to make my great escape when I turned 18. Guess what that earned me? A broken arm and a fractured wrist. I’m lucky that’s all I walked away with.

Of course, Scarlett spun some elaborate tale to my father about how I “tripped over my own two feet” because I’m such a klutz. She put on her best performance to play the concerned stepmother. Told him she rushed me to the hospital. In reality, I caught the bus there myself. And guess what? He believed her. Shocker, right?

Now that my father’s gone, I can’t for the life of me figure out why she keeps me around. Maybe she likes having a punching bag to torture? Who knows what kind of twisted garbage goes on in that head of hers.

And to Scarlett’s right? Her personal human battering ram, Rodrigo. Think of a semi-truck with arms - that’s him. He’s massive, built like a tank, and about as terrifying as they come. The guy’s never lost a fight and probably never will. I’m pretty sure he could bench press me with his pinky. He’s does most of Scarlett’s dirty work, so her precious little hands stay squeaky clean.

So here we are, sitting in awkward silence around the conference table. It’s like we’re all trapped in some strange staring contest while we wait for the lawyer to arrive. The vibe? Uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I’m sitting here, assuming dear ol’ Dad left everything to the evil witch and her spawn. Why am I even here? No clue. But the lawyer summoned me, so here I am, squirming in this swivel chair. Fingers crossed Dad left me something.

Ever since my father died, I’ve had this gut feeling that Scarlett had her claws in his death. It’s like she was waiting for him to drop dead, and when he wasn’t doing it fast enough, she gave him a shove in the right direction. The guy was 50, fit as a fiddle, and then suddenly - BAM - heart attack? Yeah, sure. The man ate healthier than a yoga instructor and ran marathons for fun. Yeah, I know, not your typical mob boss activity. But for some reason, he loved it.

Me, though? You’ll never catch me running - ever. What’s the appeal of dragging your body 26.2 miles in the desert heat? Honestly, I hate driving that far, let alone running it. Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather lick sandpaper.

The glass door swings wide, and in walks a short, stocky bald dude. This must be the lawyer. He plops himself at the head of the table, all business-like, and starts unloading papers from his briefcase.

Once he’s all set, he looks up and says, “Hello, everyone. I’m Keith. This is the will reading for Dominic Moretti.” He slides packets across the table like he’s dealing poker chips. I grab mine and brace myself for what’s coming.

Keith clears his throat. “Dominic left the houses, cars, and all personal possessions to his wife, Scarlett. That also includes one joint bank account with ten million dollars.”

I can practically hear the smugness radiating from Scarlett’s face as her smirk spreads. Ugh. Of course, she only married him for the money and status. She was dirt poor when she clawed her way into his life, fresh off her last divorce. Now here she is, cashing in. Makes me want to barf.

Keith continues, “The casino business and all its counterparts…” He coughs, but we all know what “counterparts” means - mob stuff. “They were left to Skylar.”

I nearly fall out of my chair. My jaw? Yeah, it’s somewhere on the floor.

Scarlett explodes. “WHAT?!” She slams her fists on the table so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack in half. She shoots up, and her chair flies back, smashing into the glass wall with a crack. Not that she cares - her sparkly little future just went up in flames. “How does Skylar get the business? I’ve been running it! She has no clue what she’s doing!” Her finger jabs at Keith, practically shaking. “Check the will again! There has to be some mistake!”

Keith doesn’t even flinch. He calmly raises his voice to cut through her ranting. “I can assure you, there’s no mistake. I drafted the will myself with Mr. Moretti. The business has always been kept in the Moretti bloodline. It’s passed down to the children to remain in the family. You are not Moretti blood, and neither is your son.” He shoots her a look that practically says, “Tough luck.”

Scarlett’s glare could melt steel. She’s clearly plotting all the ways she could make Keith disappear. If looks could kill, he’d be in a shallow grave by now. Meanwhile, I’m still sitting here, completely stunned that my father left me anything.

Then Scarlett’s eyes snap to mine. There are going to be very real consequences for what my father put in his will. My stomach sinks - she’s out for blood. And now? I’m terrified.

Why would my father put me in charge of everything? He knew I never wanted anything to do with the business. Maybe he finally realized Scarlett’s just a gold-digging snake. That’s the only explanation I’ve got. Or maybe it’s that whole “keep it in the family” deal that Keith mentioned. But still - Dad never breathed a word to me. Talk about being blindsided!

“Skylar, aside from the businesses, your father set up a trust fund for you,” Keith says, glancing down at the papers. “There are stipulations you need to meet before you can access the funds. First, you have to be at least 21, which you already are. The last requirement is that you must get married and stay married for one year before you can inherit the 187 million dollars.”

Goodness gracious! That’s an insane amount of money!

I’m sitting here, totally floored. He left it all to me?! But seriously, why the marriage clause? What kind of old-school nonsense is that? I’ve got a million questions, but they’ll remain unanswered since Dad’s buried.

Keith knocks on the table to bring me back to reality. “Skylar, you have until the age of 35 to meet this requirement. If you don’t, the trust fund money will go to your cousin, Orlando. If you pass away before then, everything transfers to him including the business. Do you understand everything I’ve explained?”

I nod, but honestly, I’m not even here anymore. My brain’s on autopilot. All I can think about is the dread creeping up inside as Scarlett keeps shooting daggers my way. She’s picturing all the ways she could murder me right now, I just know it. If there weren’t witnesses, I’d be dead.