Chapter 1
The afternoon sun blazed over the private country club, saturating the world in hyper-vivid colors. The sky was an impossible, unbroken sapphire blue, contrasting sharply with the bright, electric green of the pristine tennis court.
"Look at her standing there like a statue," Evelyn Price said, her American accent dripping with condescension. "She doesn't even know how to hold the racket."
"What did you expect, Evelyn?" Miles Price replied, crossing his arms. "The kid is three years old. She’s barely out of diapers, let alone ready for the baseline."
"I expected Damon’s blood to have a little more backbone," Evelyn muttered. She adjusted the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist, her fair, rosy skin glowing under the harsh sunlight. "She just stares at us."
"She’s staring because you're glaring at her," Miles laughed, straightening his tailored suit jacket. "Give her a break."
"I am not going to be stepmother to a fragile little porcelain doll," Evelyn snapped. "She needs to learn resilience."
Hazel stood frozen near the bright white service line. Her tiny white tennis skirt fluttered in the warm breeze, and her soft pink cardigan looked too heavy for the sweltering heat. Her fair, rosy cheeks were flushed.
"Auntie Evelyn?" Hazel called out, her little voice trembling. "I want to go inside now."
"We are not going inside, Hazel," Evelyn called back, her voice raising sharply. "We are practicing."
"I don't have a racket," Hazel pleaded, looking down at her small white sneakers.
"Then you better practice moving your feet," Miles chuckled, stepping toward the heavy green ball machine resting on the sideline. "Want me to turn it on for you, Evie?"
"Do it," Evelyn ordered, her eyes narrowing. "She needs to learn to move."
"Please, no," Hazel whimpered, her blue eyes widening as Miles placed his hand on the machine’s heavy black dial. "Daddy said I didn't have to play today."
"Your daddy isn't out here," Evelyn said coldly. "I am. And I say we play."
"She's going to cry, Evelyn," Miles warned, though a cruel smirk played on his lips. "You know how Damon gets when she cries."
"Damon is locked in the VIP lounge negotiating a shipping contract," Evelyn said, holding up a small black remote control. "He won't hear a thing over the sound of the baseline generator."
"Auntie Evelyn, please!" Hazel screamed, her voice cracking.
"Stop whining," Evelyn commanded. "It's time to build some character."
May you like
"You're going to give her a panic attack," Miles laughed, adjusting the machine’s trajectory knob, pointing the dark plastic barrel directly at the three-year-old girl.
"Good," Evelyn said. "Maybe then she'll finally learn to run."
