Taboo Sin System

"You thieving little rat!"

Gregory Osborne's fat hand closed on Pan's collar and dragged him across the marble until his shoes squealed.

The man's face was red to the ears. Veins stood out thick at his temples.

"Where are my golden cufflinks, boy? Answer me before I lose my patience."

Pan met his father's glare without flinching. "I don't know, sir. As you commanded, I polished them last night and locked them away myself."

"Liar! The drawer is empty. Those cufflinks were a gift from the royal family. That's more valuable than your miserable existence a thousand times over!"

Pan was eighteen, and two weeks into his first semester at Cloyster University. He let himself be dragged anyway. His adoptive father tired quicker that way.

The man hunted for a crack in Pan's face, but found none.

Years of practice had taught him that fear fed Gregory's temper, and defiance fed it even faster. The only winning move was looking like furniture. Pretending he felt nothing.

Gregory shoved him off with a grunt. The young man caught his balance against the wall. He had taken worse and survived.

The Osbornes had adopted him from the orphanage at seven, back when every rich name in Cloyster City wanted a charity child to parade at parties.

Pan had been the Osbornes' entry in that contest.

The praise dried up within a year. The family could not throw the boy away, so they quietly demoted him from son to servant, without giving him the choice.

A thick finger jabbed into Pan's chest hard enough to bruise. "The gala is tonight. Have the cufflinks on my dresser by six or I'll open your back up again. Mark my words, boy."

"Yes, sir. I'll do everything to preserve the honor of the family."

Gregory grunted at his son's poker face and stalked off toward breakfast. His heavy footsteps faded down the hall.

Pan had been awake since five. By seven the ballroom windows were washed and the cars were pulled around. The eggs were soft in the middle, the way Gregory liked them.

He carried the breakfast tray in and set it down without a sound.

Gemina Osborne sat at the far end of the room with her lips pressed thin, tracking every movement like she was waiting for him to drop something.

She was forty-two, an ex-supermodel who still put in the hours to please her husband. The silk robe she wore sat open low enough to show the top of her tits.

Gregory kissed his wife and dropped into his chair at the head of the table. He put a phone to his ear and got busy instantly.

"I said Friday. Or you will eat the loss and I will go to another supplier. Don't call back until the shipment is on the truck."

The next minute, he was already on another call. "My son is Student President at the academy. Top of his year. He'll be helping with the business soon. I will tell him you asked."

Leo was the golden firstborn, and Gregory could turn a simple introduction at a party into a half-hour speech about him.

"What are you gawking at?" Gemina snapped at Pan. "Leo already ate and left for the academy, no thanks to you. Where's my coffee? And my daughters have places to be. Serve them."

Pan moved down the row of chairs and kept his mouth shut. Words only gave them more ammunition. The one time he answered her back, she had him stripping wax off the ballroom floor until three in the morning.

Gemina lifted her cup, took a sip, and scowled. She slid it across the linen at him. "It is cold."

The coffee was not cold. He had poured it ninety seconds ago and the steam still rose off the surface.

"Make another, and don't ruin it again. Eleven years I fed this wastrel, and he still serves me ice cold coffee. That's what you get for picking up a kid from the street."

Pan clenched his jaw and turned toward the sisters.

Lila sat down first. She put out her left hand for the plate while her right scrolled her phone's screen.

Twenty-one years old, she wore a high-necked sweater and a skirt to her ankles, her blonde hair brushed over one shoulder.

Gregory expected his children to dress conservatively at the table. In Lila's case, the wool still pulled tight across her ample chest. The favorite daughter ate her eggs like she cooked them herself.

Pan set the plate in front of her and kept his gaze on the tablecloth. The last time he let his eyes wander toward one of the girls, Gregory had backhanded him in front of the maids and servants.

Christina took the chair beside Lila. Nineteen, black hair pinned back tight, in a white blouse done up to the last button. Under it she was built like a runner. She sat with her hands together like the table was a stop on her way to morning church service.

Christina was the family's moral compass, appointed by herself. She quoted scripture at everyone except the girl in her mirror.

"Thou shalt not steal, Pan. Try listening to your conscience once in a while."

Lila snorted into her coffee. "Maybe he sold the cufflinks and plans to run away with the loot. Somebody should check the pawn shops on Ninth Street."

"Don't be cruel. The April whipping only lasted him five months. He probably needs another reminder."

The blonde finally looked up from her screen. "Be grateful, Pan. Dad kept you because Mom wanted a project that year. Don't betray the family or you'll be thrown out like trash."

"Speaking of trash, borrow something decent from the butler for the gala," Christina said. "Half the elites in this city will be in the ballroom by eight. I won't have them thinking we don't empty our bins."

Tanya arrived last. She was a sight for sore eyes. Seventeen, hair still wet, and headphones around her neck.

The little sister was the only Osborne who thought of him as family. She slipped him bread when he was punished and the pantry was chained.

Tanya pulled the headphones down and her mouth started to curve at her brother. "Leave him alone. He was up before any of us, working for the gala. There's no way he would steal anything."

"Shut up and eat your eggs," Gemina said sternly. The girl's smile died.

The two older sisters traded a glance. Lila's lip curled at one corner. Christina's green eyes went to the cuffs of her father's shirt, then back to Pan.

The sisters were enjoying it, and they wanted him to see that they were.

Last spring the two of them had keyed Gregory's black Mercedes and let Pan take the blame for it. The scars on his back still hurt whenever he reached a high shelf.

Pan stacked the plates and took them out.

"Six o'clock, thief," Lila called after him. "Tick tock. Time is running out, and Daddy does not forget."

The kitchen door swung shut behind him. His stomach was empty after the morning shakedown, and food would have to wait a while longer. Hunger kept him sharp anyway.

No one was in Gregory's study when Pan let himself in. No scratches marked the drawer's lock. The spare key hung on its hook by the shelves, turned the wrong way round.

Pan set the key straight and thought it through. The girls set me up again.

Christina was the planner of the two. She whispered poison into Gemina's ear and forged the exact evidence that pinned mistakes on him.

Lila was the airhead accomplice, the one who never expected real consequences. She left her bedroom open like a queen, believing nobody would dare enter.

If the cufflinks were anywhere in this house, it was Lila's room. Gregory would never doubt his favorite.

Going up there had a price though. The private wing was closed to the house's servants.

If Gemina caught him on those steps, she'd kick him out on the streets, much before the six o'clock deadline.

Pan wiped his palms down his shirt.

Fuck it. I'm not bleeding for those two again.

The corridor was clear. The grand staircase rose ahead of him. Above it the upper floor sat dark and quiet.

Pan made the decision without hesitation. He took the stairs two at a time.

I'm going in.