The Untouchable Beaumont

Summary

I was born to perform.

Melancholy is my natural palette; a cold, untouchable distance is my armor.

The day I returned to the Beaumont estate to claim my place as the biological daughter, it was pouring. Rain hammered against the windows of the town car, blurring the world into a smudge of grey. I sat in the backseat, chin resting on my palm, my gaze empty and fixed on the streaks of water. I looked exactly like a woman who had just had her heart shattered, though, in truth, I felt nothing at all.