[Lily] I should have never moved into a room where I share a wall with Atticus Preston. As soon as I woke up, or I should say crawled out of bed because sleep wasn’t a possibility with Atticus and Evie going at it all night, I decided it was time to rearrange my room. Maybe my bed shouldn’t be along the wall I share with him since obviously, the headboard in his room is leaning up against it as well. I also need to cover that vent with something. I don’t care about air circulation. I’d rather suffocate than listen to Evie moan all night. She also tends to telegraph everything that is happening at the moment it is happening. I didn’t need to know the ins and outs, literally, of everything that Atticus was doing to her. Unfortunately, it is nearly impossible to move solid wood furniture with only two arms and one leg. The bed was impossible to move more than a millimeter on my own, and it made a terrible scratch on the floor as I pulled. “What are you doing?” Atticus asks from just

[Atticus] Evangeline has been suspiciously quiet lately. She’s up to something, I can tell, and knowing Evie the way that I do, it is something she doesn’t want me to know about. But at least she doesn’t seem angry anymore which means she is at least thinking about her actions. Or at least one can hope. I hit the track early this morning and ran an easy three miles. The obstacle course I made for Liliana is still in the corner, a little damp with morning dew but otherwise intact. I chuckle remembering how ridiculous she looked trying to make it up and over the cones. She was in such a good mood afterward but then Evangeline had to ruin everything with the destroyed uniform. I’m starting to wonder if Evie is going out of her way to sabotage my efforts. Is our relationship even about us anymore, or is it about revenge? When I return from my run, a letter from my family is waiting for me just inside the door. It’s from my sister, Janus. Max, I hope the year is going well. I

[Lily]I could still feel the burn of Atticus' lips as I watched his car drive away. It wasn't a kiss, it was an assault, a fit of anger and frustration. And yet…"He is grieving," I say, trying to convince myself that it must be true. "He didn't mean it." But even as I say these words I do not believe them entirely. There was pain there, so much pain, but I can’t help but feel there was something else. He feels so much more than he lets on to others. He wants people to see him as confident, cocky, and in control. But he is still just a kid, just like me. 17 years old is so young to feel the weight of an entire family dynasty on his shoulders. He was acting in anger and grief. But that doesn’t mean everything he said or did was wrong. It just feels like lately I cannot speak to Atticus, not with the unpredictable flavor of his feelings. These days I’m not sure if I’m going to get the bitter or the sweet. Looking down at my outfit, I see the changes that Madison made--the torn hem

[Lily] The first thing I do as soon as I get on the airplane is email Nyx. She lives in New York, and I want to check in on her. “I miss you so much! Please be okay!” I write before pressing send. The message to my grandfather takes a bit longer. ____________________ Dear Grandfather, By the time you see this letter, I will already be in New York. I realize that I should have written to you sooner and I apologize, but things have been moving so quickly. Atticus Preston and the other Legacies have decided to try and make amends this year for the terrible treatment they gave me in the past. Atticus swears that he has become a new person and that he wants to be my friend. So far, for the most part, he has been a very good friend and I am surprised at how nice some of the other Legacies have been as well. I am currently living in Mom’s old room. It’s weird, being in a space that once belonged to her, but also comforting. The reason I’m heading to New York is because Madison St.

[Lily] Our first stop on the itinerary was St. Claire Studios in Uptown. I don’t know what I was expecting. I had never been involved in fashion, nor had I been anywhere near a fashion house. Even though Adare Industries has an entire fashion branch to its overarching arts-based philanthropy projects, I have never even been allowed to attend formal functions. At first, my grandfather said it was “for my protection,” because I was “too young” and he wanted to keep me safe.But then one night, after one too many glasses of wine, he confessed what I know must be the truth. “Fashion is full of predators. I don’t want you to end up becoming a whore like your mother. Never again. Never another Adare.”The fashion house takes up the top 20 floors of the building with the remaining 40 divided up between other businesses, including an art gallery on the bottom three floors. By New York standards, it is a medium-sized skyscraper, not one of the biggest by far, and several dozen stories more