Chapter 1
Revenge And Redemption (Part 1).
Melissa:
I live in a world where everyone thinks I have it all, but deep down, I'm drowning. Politics and pretending are the norm, but it's not what I want. My father's ambitions overshadow everything, leaving me feeling unimportant and alone. Then Sebastian appears, turning my world upside down. He sees through the lies, freeing me from the façade. But with him comes uncertainty. He's like a drug, addictive yet dangerous, and I fear he may be the catalyst for my downfall.
Sebastian:
Love is a myth in my world, where power is everything. As a Vanderbilt, I'm bound to this reality. Then Melissa enters my life, defying all my expectations. She's a paradox, fragile yet fierce, unlike anyone I've ever met. But her connection to my family's enemy complicates everything. Despite knowing the risks, I can't let her go. Yet, her safety hangs in the balance, and it's my duty to protect her, even if it means defying my own blood.
***
Prologue.
Her eyes were puffy, tears weighing down her lashes. She trembled, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Seeing her like this tore at my heart. "Melissa, I love you. Please, believe me," I begged, feeling the weight of our shared past.
"Every moment we shared was real. I never pretended to love you. If I could turn back time—" "But you can't," she interrupted, her tone icy. "That's the thing, Sebastian. You can't!" Her voice cracked, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she pounded on my chest. "I hate you! God, I hate you so much! I trusted you. I poured my heart out to you, and you still played your part! You're twisted!"
"Melissa, you know that's not true." I gently held her wrists, bringing them to my chest. Watching her, the woman I swore to protect, crumble before me shattered my resolve. I gritted my teeth, fighting back my own tears as she wept uncontrollably. I knew I was the cause, and it tore me apart.
"Every day since I met you, I've regretted agreeing to my father's messed-up plan. I despise myself for it. I'm messed up, I know. But that's how I was raised. My father filled me with revenge, like it was my purpose in life. Until I met you." My voice faltered.
Holding her hands, I let tears fall freely for the first time in two decades, remembering the last time I cried at my mother's funeral when I was just five. "
You set me free from that, Melissa. You broke the chains tying me to the past. And I love you. I love you so much, Melissa. You're everything to me. Without you, I'm lost."
"I can't believe you," Melissa sobbed, struggling to breathe amidst her tears. Damn, I wished I could ease her pain somehow. But I felt utterly powerless. I had shattered the woman I loved more than anything.
"You must believe me," I murmured, gently lifting her chin with my fingers, locking eyes with hers. "From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn't bring you harm. And every day, you proved me right. Everything I've done since then has been to keep you safe."
Melissa pulled away, wiping her tears and taking a deep breath. Her eyes turned dark with intense hatred. "If you really wanted to protect me, you would've stayed away."
"Melissa, please... Let me show you how much I love you," I pleaded, my voice breaking.
"No, Sebastian. What we had was just desire, not love."
"Don't say that."
"But it's true. We mistook desire for love."
"No, Melissa. Only love could feel this intense. And only love could hurt so much that it feels suffocating."
"Then... Love is deadly," Melissa whispered, her words sending a chill down my spine. I felt fear creeping in. "Because whatever this was... I overdosed, and it killed me."
I shook my head, her words cutting deep into my heart. "Don't speak like that."
Melissa looked at me with disdain, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Stay away from me," she shouted before turning and getting into the car.
Ledford drove off, leaving me standing alone in the empty street, engulfed by the darkness of the night. I was drowning in agony, questioning every decision that brought me to this point.
Did I regret anything? Absolutely.
Would I change anything? No.
***
Melissa.
A couple of months earlier.
"Are you insane, Timothy?!" I pushed my boyfriend away, straightening my clothes that he'd tried to remove. "Did you seriously think I'd agree to sex with you in a storage room?"
He rolled his eyes, emitting that familiar frustrated sound. "I'm so fed up with this, Melissa!"
"With what exactly?" I frowned, arms crossed.
"We've been together for over a year, barely being intimate," he growled.
"Oh, you expected me to let you have your way with me between my legal analysis and procedural law classes?" Sarcasm dripped from my words.
Timothy and I started dating in our senior year of high school, becoming prom king and queen. But honestly, I couldn't tell if Timothy was more of a friend or a boyfriend. Despite enjoying his company, I never felt the passionate desire everyone talks about. Our first sexual encounter happened after eight months of dating, mostly because Timothy insisted, but there were no fireworks for me. It left me feeling awful because I cared about him and our relationship, yet the spark just wasn't there. I thought it might have been due to the scars left by my past bad experiences. My ex-boyfriend had hurt me deeply, leaving an indelible mark on my soul.
After graduation, Timothy and I ended up at the same university, chosen for us. Being the daughter of this year's gubernatorial candidate in California, Derick Atkinson, I had little say in my own life. Everything was already planned out for me – my education, my future career, even my boyfriend, whom I initially had no clue about. So yes, I was one of those privileged kids who got into Stanford University due to my family's social status. And even though I had no real desire to pursue a law degree, my father believed it was best if I followed in his footsteps and became a lawyer, or even better, a politician.
"I don't know what you want," Timothy growled, snapping me back to reality. "But it's driving me crazy that my girlfriend won't let me touch her!"
“Timothy—” Before I could finish, he stormed out of the dark, dusty storage room, slamming the door behind him.
“Very mature.” I let out a deep sigh. I had no time or energy to deal with this crap. I was up all night cramming for that legal analysis exam. I fixed my clothes and left for the next dry as dust lecture.
AFTER SCHOOL, I TUCKED myself under a soft, white blanket. I’d had one of those bad days when you wanted to sink into your bed, hoping no one would ever find you. But despite the thick walls of my bedroom, I could still hear my parents arguing—again. I covered myself with a furry pillow, pushing it onto my head. Even that didn’t make their shouting or throwing dirty names at one another stop ringing in my ears. I hated their fights, and those would happen daily. My parents’ marriage was of convenience, not love. And I was their only child, so I was stuck in this toxic swamp all alone. Or maybe it was better I had no siblings? At least there was no extra person who’d have to suffer everything I had. I could never understand why my mother wouldn’t just drop everything and run away from that monster, a.k.a. my father, burning all the bridges after her. Especially after everything he’d done to her. Or maybe, I wish I had done that myself? And yet there I was, trying to survive yet another day in this luxurious life of mine… that behind the closed doors of this hell of a mansion called our home wasn’t luxurious at all.
I heard a loud door slam, followed by my mother’s heels clicking on marble stairs as she headed downstairs—finally, no more screams. I took a deep breath, crawling out of my bed that felt like my fortress, helping me survive all the wars this house had witnessed. I reached out for my phone and saw a few missed calls from Timothy, and one text from Sasha, my best friend. I chose to ignore the calls from my boyfriend and, heading up to the bathroom, unfold the entire message Sasha sent me.
From: Scar.
Hey, boo! Will u make it to the party tonite?
We’re at Mike’s.
Sent Friday 5:52 PM.
I sighed, not feeling the Friday night vibe as a nineteen-year-old girl like me should. But the truth was, I’d rather go out than stay in this dreadful place, risking being an invisible partaker in yet another quarrel. I quickly freshened up and was ready to leave about an hour later. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, amazed at how a little bit of makeup and a sexy outfit could boost one’s self-perception. I tended to be very insecure about myself. I blamed my emotionally unsteady childhood for that because my mother would never tell me I was beautiful like my friends’ mothers would do. I’d been struggling with my low self-esteem ever since I recall. It felt like I was fighting my own war with the demons. Demons slumbering inside me, waiting for the least convenient moment to come out and destroy the self-confidence I desperately tried to build all over again. But that wasn’t the case tonight. I smiled at myself, satisfied with how I looked. I slipped a black minidress, with a straight neckline cut out in the middle, over my naked breasts, pleasingly tightening them. The V-cut on the left bottom gave some sultry to its design. I brushed my lips with my favorite Dior gloss in a medium nude shade and drew a simple cat line over my eyelashes, enhancing my look.
To: Scar.
I'm on my way, S.
Sent Friday 7:18 PM.
I typed the quick response and hit send, leaving for the party.
"Shall I wait for you, Miss Atkinson?" my chauffeur inquired as we neared Mike's residence. "No need, you can head back home," I replied as he stopped outside my friend's house, the booming music likely audible throughout the neighborhood. "Are you certain, miss?" Gregory glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror, his hazel eyes meeting mine. The freckles around his eyes hinted at a smile. At times, it seemed he fretted over me more than my parents did. I never viewed him solely as my chauffeur; there was a bond between us, akin to that of a grandfather and granddaughter. It was a connection I had never experienced due to not knowing my grandparents. Despite its warmth, it stung to realize that a stranger cared for me more than my own mother, and certainly more than my father did.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks, Gregory,” I said and got out of the car.
I looked at the two-level loft with massive windows through which I could spot my friends having wild fun, and suddenly, all the confidence in me faded away. I took a deep breath as the overwhelming feeling of anxiety rushed over my body. I forced myself to smile and somehow moved forward.
“MELISSA!” SASHA SPOTTED me from afar and, squeezing between some people I’d never seen before, greeted me with a hug. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
Unlike me, Sasha was a life-of-the-party girl who adored being the center of attention. Taking a sip of her martini, she scanned my face with her extraordinary emerald eyes, perfectly matching her fair, freckled complexion and wavy hair dyed a copper shade of red.
“Haven’t you seen my text?” I arched my eyebrow, smiling.
“Oh, God, no.” She giggled, struggling to swallow the sip she’d just taken, her cheeks flushed. She was tipsy, no doubt. “Sorry. I don’t even know where my phone is.”
Sasha grabbed me by my elbow and led me to an enormous living room. There was an open drink bar, a leather couch by the see-through glass wall, and at least three hundred square feet of space in the middle where some people were dancing. The room was dim, with a few colorful flashing lights glistening against the ceiling giving the club vibe to this place. I glanced across the area, searching for Timothy. I spotted him drinking his whiskey. He seemed immersed in thought, not paying much attention to people cheerfully laughing around him. Among others, Mike, who was overly gesticulating while enthusiastically telling something, and Audrey, one of my friends. She stood by Timothy’s right arm, cooing at him. Sasha quickly picked up on my mood as I involuntarily clenched my jaw, watching my so-called friend hitting on my man.
“You’re not jealous of Audrey, are you?” Scar said, biting on her lower lip teasingly while a sarcastic smirk formed on her face. She grabbed a drink from a bar countertop behind us and fetched it for me.
“I’m not,” I said dryly, drinking the martini she handed me in one go. My eyes were still on Audrey, whispering something into Timothy’s ear, and a playful smile appeared on his face.
What did she tell him that he suddenly looks so amused?