Chapter 2 I will fight back
Wesley’s expression hardened, his remorse vanishing like mist in the sun. His lips curved into that smug smile I once mistook for charm.
“That’s not possible,” he said coolly. “You know how much I’ve invested, how much I’ve sacrificed. The company you’re talking about doesn’t even exist anymore. I rebuilt it from scratch.”
My breath caught. “Rebuilt it?” I echoed, trembling. “Are you stealing my company, Wesley? You said you were only helping!”
He folded his arms, completely unmoved. “You signed everything over to me. Don’t twist it, Molly.”
“You tricked me!” My voice cracked with disbelief. “You told me investors wouldn’t fund the company while my name was attached to it because of the scandal. You swore it was temporary!”
That word, ‘scandal’ still made my chest tighten. Years of whispers, paparazzi flashbulbs, fake headlines, and the unbearable pity in people’s eyes. My world had already fallen apart when my parents died under suspicious circumstances.
And Wesley had been the only one who stood by me. My savior. My husband. My mistake.
He had spoken then with such care, such convincing sincerity, telling me to rest, to trust him, to let him carry the burden. I never realized I was handing him my life, my work, my freedom, on a silver platter.
Maybe our meeting had never been fate at all. Maybe it was a hunt.
“Come on, sis,” Kiara’s voice slid through the air, honey-coated poison. I turned slowly to find her standing beside him, dressed in designer silk, her perfume cloying, her expression smug. “I’m entitled to everything too, you know. Dad left it for both of us.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “You were never there when Dad was sick. You didn’t even show up for his funeral, Kiara.”
Her eyes flashed, but she quickly recovered, tossing her perfect curls over one shoulder. “You always loved playing the martyr. You think you’re better because you stayed behind? Please. You’re pathetic.”
Kiara’s fame had exploded while I was drowning. She’d become the nation’s sweetheart while I became its scandal. And when our parents died, she didn’t even blink, saying, ‘Let the dead bury their dead.’
I wanted to do the right thing, so I invited her when the will was being read. She’d laughed, said she wasn’t interested in “peanuts.” But when her stolen songs stopped selling and her fame withered, she came crawling back. And now, she wanted what was mine.
“Molly,” she said, her smile razor-sharp, “you really think that will still stands? When you’re not even our parents’ real daughter?”
The room tilted. “What are you talking about?” My voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else.
“I have proof.” She thrust papers and photographs into my hands. “DNA tests. Records. You’re adopted. My parents found you after your real parents died in a car crash. You were their charity project.”
I stared down at the documents, my hands trembling. The names, the dates, they all blurred. I wanted to scream. If that were true, then who was I?
But no. No, I refused to let her rewrite my story.
“If they knew before giving me everything,” I said quietly, “then they still chose me. That must tell you something.”
Kiara’s eyes widened, then she slapped me. Hard. The sting burned across my cheek, my head snapping to the side. For a moment, the room pulsed with red. My blood roared. I raised my hand to strike her back, but Wesley caught my wrist mid-air.
“I’m sorry,” he said smoothly, “but I can’t let you hit her.”
His touch burned. I ripped my arm away. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”
Kiara laughed. “Still so dramatic. Poor Molly, always losing everything.”
She turned to Wesley, sliding her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Right in front of me. Slow. Intentional.
He didn’t pull away. He kissed her back. It felt like watching the final nail driven into my coffin. My heart didn’t even shatter. It just went silent.
When they broke apart, Kiara smirked over Wesley’s shoulder. “I already prepared everything for you. Sign the papers and get out.”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But if I did, I’d lose everything my parents, whoever they were, had left me. And I wasn’t ready to let them take everything.
So, I walked away. After getting myself together, I will fight back.
I didn’t know how long I wandered. The streets blurred, neon lights glowing against the dusk. My heels clicked against the pavement until I found myself outside a familiar sight, a club, alive with music and laughter. I’d frequented here, back when the world adored me.
Maybe one drink would help me forget.
Inside, perfume, sweat, and expensive cologne mingled in the air. The bass thrummed through my chest. I headed for the bar, trying to disappear.
“Molly? Molly Campbell?” A voice rose above the music, stopping me cold. My maiden name. No one had called me that in years.
I turned slowly. A woman approached me, her eyes wide with surprise and warmth. “It’s me, Nora! Where have you been?”
I blinked, disoriented. “Nora?” My memory stirred. She used to be one of my backup singers. Sweet, quiet, kind.
But kindness had become a luxury I couldn’t afford to believe in. “It’s nothing. I have to go,” I said, trying to sidestep her.
She blocked me gently. “You can’t come here like this. Not alone. Look, we weren’t exactly friends, but I never believed those rumors about you.”
Her voice broke something inside me. After all this time, someone still believed me.
“All I want is something to ease the pain,” I muttered. “Do you have any hard drinks?”
Nora smiled faintly. “Come with me.”
She led me to a private booth. The velvet seat cushioned my weary body, the low lighting hiding my tears.
“I can’t afford this,” I said weakly.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m the manager now. Tonight, it’s on me.”
When she returned with martinis, I didn’t wait. I drank, and drank again, until the edges of my pain blurred. “I’m such an idiot, Nora,” I confessed.
“No,” she said softly. “You’re human.”
I almost laughed. Three glasses later, my words spilled out. The company, Wesley, Kiara, the betrayal. She listened without judgment, her hand resting lightly over mine. “You don’t deserve this, Molly. Let me take you home after this.”
Her kindness made me ache. If I’d known how much one gentle voice could heal, maybe I wouldn’t have let the cruel ones destroy me.
“I just need to use the restroom,” I said, rising unsteadily.
“I’ll come with you.”
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted, not wanting to trouble her any further. “Really.”
She hesitated, then was called away by a waiter, something about a difficult client. She looked torn, but I reassured her again. “Go. I’ll wait here.”
But when I came back, Nora was gone, and two strange men were sitting in my booth.
“Beauty’s back,” one of them sneered.
My blood froze. That nickname. Beauty without brains. The tabloids’ favorite insult. They knew who I was.
“Where’s Nora?” I asked a passing waiter, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Boss could be anywhere,” he shrugged.
A hand wrapped around my waist. “Don’t be shy,” one man whispered, forcing a drink toward me.
“No. I’ve had enough,” I said, pushing his hand away.
“Who said you have a choice?” The other laughed darkly. “Kiara paid us well to take care of you.”
Her name made my stomach drop. Even now, she couldn’t let me breathe.
They forced the glass to my lips. I choked, the bitter liquid burning my throat. The world tilted, my body heating unnaturally. My skin tingled, my pulse raced.
“Don’t worry,” one of them murmured, pulling out his phone. “We’ll make sure there’s proof this time.”
The screen lit up with a video. Kiara’s face appeared, smiling, flawless, venomous. “Big sister,” she purred, “I just thought you should pay for stealing my man. You have seven days to sign those papers, or this video goes public. Enjoy, bitch.”
Then she laughed. Wesley’s arm draped over her shoulders, as the video ended.
Tears spilled freely now. The drug took hold, my limbs going limp, my mind swimming. I couldn’t fight back.
One man’s hand slid across my thigh carrying me away from the booth to a room I could only see blurrily. The other whispered, “Don’t worry, it’ll all be recorded.”
Then—boom.
The door burst open. It slammed against the wall with a crash that silenced the room.
Three men stormed in, their presence commanding. Behind them, Nora, breathless and furious.
Before I could react, one of the men lunged forward and grabbed my attackers. The other wrapped a jacket around me, his movements sharp but careful.
He smelled like cedar and smoke, clean, expensive, intoxicating. His touch was firm but protective, and his voice, deep, calm, cut through my haze like distant thunder. I wanted to hold onto that voice.
I tried to speak, but my words tangled. My vision blurred. He lifted me easily, carrying me through the crowd and out into the night air.
The cold wind hit my face. Then a splash of icy water. My skin burned, then cooled, as consciousness began to fade. I clung to his scent, to that quiet strength, until the darkness took me completely.
When I woke, sunlight poured through sheer curtains. The sheets beneath me were soft as silk, the air faintly scented with sandalwood and sea breeze. My head pounded.
I turned—and froze.
A man lay beside me, bare-chested, the light gilding his skin like gold. His lashes were long, his jaw sharp, his breathing steady.
And my heart stopped. Because that face, that face was familiar.