Jade's Secrets

The private library of the Smith mansion in Savannah was always too cold, the air conditioning kept low to protect the leather-bound first editions that my father never read. It was a room designed to intimidate, boasting mahogany shelves that stretched to the double-height ceiling and a massive marble fireplace that remained dark even in the dead of winter. I stood near the tall arched windows, looking out at the manicured Georgia estate, my fingers tracing the gold-embossed spine of some ancient medical encyclopedia. The silence between us was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic, aggressive tapping of my father’s thumbs on his phone screen.

Tyler Smith did not look up. He sat behind his massive oak desk, a glass of neat scotch resting near his elbow, completely absorbed in whatever multi-million-dollar tech acquisition was unfolding on his screen. The pandemic had made him a billionaire, but it had also turned him into a ghost in his own home. He was physically there, but his mind was always somewhere in the cloud, calculating algorithms and profit margins.

"You are getting too wild, Jade," he said, his British accent smooth but entirely devoid of warmth. He still didn’t look at me. "The parties, the crowd you are running with in Atlanta. It is a distraction. You need structure. A stable future."

I turned around, leaning my hip against the heavy wooden table. "I’m twenty-one, Dad. I’m trying to find my own path. I don’t want my life mapped out by your corporate planners."

"Your path is currently leading to the gossip columns," he replied, finally setting the phone face down on the desk. His sharp blue eyes locked onto mine, carrying the familiar weight of absolute authority. "I raised you to be smarter than this. You have a brilliant mind, but you are wasting it on superficial nonsense. I have made a decision. You are going to the University of Southern California. You will study medicine. You will become a doctor."

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. "A doctor? You want me to spend the next ten years of my life in school because you think it looks good on your family profile?"

"I want you to have a real career," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, commanding register that usually silenced boardrooms. "And I am willing to pay for it. If you go to Los Angeles, register at University of Southern California, and maintain your pre-med coursework, I will release a some portion of your trust fund when you turn twenty-two. If you refuse, I cut off your allowances, your credit cards, and your access to the estate. You will be on your own, with nothing but your stubbornness to pay the rent."

The threat was clear, wrapped in a velvet glove of financial opportunity. He thought he had trapped me. He thought the money would force me to bend to his will, just like everyone else in his life. But as I looked at him, a spark of his own ruthless ambition flared in my chest. I wanted my own empire. I wanted to be a billionaire, but on my own terms.

"Fine," I said, keeping my voice cool, masking the racing of my heart. "I’ll go to USC. I’ll take the deal."

Before he could reply, the heavy double doors of the library swung open. Nicole Harrington strolled into the room, her high heels clicking sharply against the polished hardwood floor. She was a famous model, twenty-eight, with flawless honey-blonde hair and light skin that seemed to glow under the soft library lights. She wore a designer silk wrap dress that probably cost more than a semester’s tuition, draped over her tall, slender frame with effortless elegance. She was my father’s girlfriend of two years, a certified gold digger, and my personal nightmare.

"Oh, are we discussing the little rebel’s future?" Nicole asked, her voice dripping with a fake, sugary sweetness that made my stomach turn. She glided over to my father’s chair, resting a manicured hand on his shoulder. She looked down at me with a condescending smile. "Darling, L.A. is a very big city. Are we sure little Jade is mature enough for USC? She is practically a spoiled child. I worry she won’t survive a week on her own without nannies to clean up her messes."

The insult hit exactly where she wanted it to, but I refused to let her see me flinch. I stared at her, taking in her perfect posture, the expensive diamond necklace resting on her collarbone, and the absolute power she held over my father. She was a bitch, but she was brilliant at it. I hated her, yet I secretly studied her. I wanted that power. I wanted to command a room the way she did, to have the fashion world at my feet, but I would do it without relying on a man’s bank account.

"I’ll survive, Nicole," I said, my voice steady, laced with a sharp edge. "In fact, I might even thrive. Some of us don't need to marry into money to make a mark on the world."

Nicole’s smile tightened, her eyes flashing with temporary anger before she quickly smoothed her expression and patted my father’s shoulder. "We shall see, sweetheart. We shall see."

My father dismissed me with a brief nod, already reaching for his phone again. I walked out of the library, the heavy oak doors shutting behind me. As I walked down the long, carpeted hallway of the mansion, a slow smile spread across my face. They thought they had won. They thought I was going to Los Angeles to play the obedient daughter studying biology textbooks.

They didn't know that three days ago, using my student portal, I had secretly switched my major from pre-med to business. I had no intention of becoming a doctor. Los Angeles was going to be my launching pad.

I walked toward the grand staircase, intending to head to my bedroom to pack, but a movement through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the terrace caught my eye. I stepped close to the glass, looking down at the manicured gardens near the eastern edge of the estate. Through the twilight shadows, I saw Nicole. She had slipped out of the house and was standing near a dark SUV parked by the side gate. She was whispering urgently to a tall, mysterious man dressed in a dark suit. He didn't look like any of my father’s security detail. Nicole handed him a small, thick envelope before turning and walking quickly back toward the side entrance.

I frowned, my chest tightening. There was something cold and calculated about her movements, a side of Nicole my father never saw. I shook off the unease, telling myself it was just her usual dramatic nonsense. I had my own future to worry about.

Upstairs in my bedroom, my large designer suitcases lay open on the king-sized bed. I began packing, folding silk blouses and high-end street wear. At the very bottom of the largest suitcase, beneath a stack of heavy medical textbooks that I would never actually read, I carefully slid a sleek, black leather binder. It was my secret modeling portfolio, filled with test shoots I had done with Atlanta photographers behind my father’s back.

I zipped the suitcase shut, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. A cocktail of fear and intense excitement rushed through my veins. Georgia was my past. Los Angeles, with its bright lights, dangerous parties, and endless possibilities, was waiting for me. I was ready to claim my empire.