It had been a month since Andrew and I separated. During that time, he had gotten engaged to Kelly, while Alyssa and I moved back to the villa provided to us by the Collins, where our family resides.
As soon as I entered the door, a loud slap echoed across my face. My furious grandmother, Beatrice, unleashed her anger, "You've ruined our lives! Ungrateful bitch! How are we going to live now?"
"Grandma, sister is pregnant. Please don't hurt her," Alyssa pleaded, trying to intervene and protect me.
"Now that you're divorced, our monthly allowance will be cut off," my mother, Alice, added, pacing back and forth. Alyssa guided me to the sofa, trying to provide some comfort.
"But we will still receive a million dollars once the baby is born, double if it's a boy, right?" my father, Nicholas, chimed in, trying to find a silver lining.
"Oh, you're right!" Alice's face lit up as she remembered the agreement.
Grandma's voice boomed, putting an end to their hopeful chatter. "Enough! What about after that? Have you thought about the financial support needed when the baby is born?" she questioned, her disappointment evident.
Their faces fell, realizing they had overlooked an important aspect. I couldn't believe that no one had asked how I felt. They were solely concerned about money.
Feeling exhausted, I stood up, intending to retreat to my room for some rest. Before leaving, I turned to them and said, "I still have a job, and I will work hard to provide for my baby's needs. As for all of you," I looked at their faces, "enjoy the temporary luxuries because they won't last long."
Suddenly, my mother grabbed my hair, her grip tight. "What about your sister? How will she continue her studies? How will you work while you're pregnant, you idiot! If something happens to that child, we won't receive any money! We will all end up in the mud!"
I winced in pain, realizing that their concerns were only centered around their own financial well-being, rather than the well-being of me or my unborn child.
"Stop!" I pleaded, attempting to free myself from my mother's grip, but her strength overwhelmed me. Alyssa rushed over, desperately trying to intervene. She held our mother's hand, her voice filled with desperation, "Mom, please don't hurt my sister."
"She deserves it!" Grandma interjected, her voice filled with anger. "Why do you think I sent you to Sterling Academy? Do you think it was because I liked it? No. I sent you there so you could find a wealthy boyfriend! But what did you do? You just dated a mediocre guy during the summer! Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"
My mother froze, shocked by Grandma's revelation. "What?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Our neighbors saw them at the beach and told me," Grandma continued, her words cutting through the tension.
My mother's face contorted with a mix of emotions. "You have no shame! How could you date behind our backs?"
"Why are you bringing up something that happened a long time ago?" I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.
"Because I've seen that guy around you again," Grandma said suspiciously. "Is that why you decided to get a divorce? Because you still have feelings for him?"
Alice laughed incredulously, trying to make sense of the situation. "You bitch!" she exclaimed, pointing accusingly at me. "You chose a stone over a diamond?"
She paused, her hand frozen in mid-air. "Wait," she said slowly, her eyes widening with a sudden realization. "Is he the father of your child?"
All of their eyes widened as the possibility of infidelity and betrayal hung heavily in the air.
"Mom, how could you say that about my sister? She is not that kind of person," Alyssa expressed, her eyes filled with disappointment towards our mother's hurtful remarks.
Breaking his silence, my father spoke up, "What's important right now is to keep the baby regardless of who the father is." With those words, he left the house.
Nicholas stepped out of his luxurious black car at the entrance of Fortune & Spirits, a high-end bar with a casino. He handed his keys to the valet, who promptly took charge of parking the vehicle. As he walked inside, he couldn't shake off the unease caused by the earlier discussion. Being a man born into an ordinary family, he felt a pang of wounded pride when his wife, Alice, cursed his daughter for falling in love with someone she deemed mediocre. He couldn't help but feel insulted, as he himself had experienced similar judgments in the past. Perhaps Alice, who was born into a wealthy family, had regrets about marrying him.
As he sat at the bar, the bartender, familiar with him as a regular, served him a drink. Two women took seats beside him, both vying for his attention. He casually ran his fingers through one woman's hair and smiled at her, while the other woman on his left couldn't hide her jealousy.
Suddenly, a man with a sturdy build approached the lady on his right and questioned her, "Did you replace me with this old man?"
The woman quickly intertwined her arms with his, as if seeking his protection, and responded, "We broke up a long time ago."
He scoffed at the man and stood up for the lady. "Leave. She doesn't want to talk to you."
The man left, glaring at him intently. Later that evening, they headed to the casino and decided to play poker. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side that day. Despite playing multiple rounds, he couldn't recoup his losses.
Feeling frustrated, he made his way to the parking lot to retrieve his car. However, before he could reach it, two men suddenly grabbed him, placed a cloth over his head, and forcefully stuffed him into the trunk.
He strained to hear the crackling of the fire within the drum, his vision obscured by the cloth covering his head. Gradually, footsteps drew near, and the cloth was abruptly removed, revealing his surroundings. It became apparent that he was confined within an abandoned building, his hands and feet securely bound to a chair. His gaze settled on the man who had just spoken, noticing a baseball bat in his hands. Fear gripped him, but he attempted to maintain composure, mustering an awkward smile.
"Buddy, we can talk about this," he pleaded, his voice quivering.
With a wicked grin, the man retorted, skillfully twirling the bat through the air, "Our boss has decreed that you must face punishment. We hold the power to do as we please."
A shiver ran down his spine, and desperation filled his voice. "Please, let me go. I'll give you anything you want."
Slowly, the man began to approach him from behind. Nicholas turned his head, only to discover a group of gangsters standing menacingly behind him. He hadn't noticed their presence earlier, as he had been focused on the man before him.
Among the gangsters stood the imposing figure of the man with whom he had argued earlier. With a swift motion of his hand, the gangsters descended upon him, delivering powerful blows that sent waves of intense pain coursing through his body. Unable to defend himself, he could only endure the brutal assault, fighting to stay conscious.
Alice's hands trembled as she hung up the phone call. A man had called, informing her that they had her husband and demanding a specific amount of money for his safe return. She explained to them that they came from a poor family, but the man on the other end of the line laughed, taunting her by swinging the car keys and pointing out that the poor don't drive luxurious cars. They gave her a day to bring the money to an abandoned building and warned her against involving the police, threatening to harm them all if she did.
Tears streaming down her face, she gathered the family together and asked, "What are we going to do?"
Grandma Beatrice struggled to catch her breath, unable to comprehend the fact that her beloved son was in danger.
"Our father brings us nothing but trouble," I stated firmly, though concern weighed heavily in my heart.
"Do something, Drew! Go to the Collins and ask for help," my mother demanded, her voice filled with desperation.
"What?" I sighed in disbelief. "I no longer belong to that family."
"Are you really going to let your father die because of your stupid pride?" she exclaimed.
The truth was, I had already received a million dollars for conceiving a baby, but I chose not to disclose this to them.
Despite our father's struggles with gambling, he had always done his best to provide for us. I could still vividly remember waiting outside our house, eagerly searching for the plastic bag he would bring home, knowing it contained food for our hungry stomachs.
"Let's sell this villa. We don't need such a large house," I declared, my decision final. Unable to protest, they had no choice but to reluctantly agree.
"Thank you for your hard work," the HR personnel expressed as I signed the documents. Harmony Home Interiors had been acquired by a larger company, and unfortunately, I was one of the employees who were laid off. It was difficult to comprehend that despite my years of dedication and contributions to the company, I was chosen to leave, even though I held a managerial position. I couldn't help but wonder, what had gone wrong? Was it just bad luck? Or had I unintentionally offended someone higher up in the organization? The uncertainty and confusion weighed heavily on my mind.
As I wandered through the mall, attempting to find solace for the sadness within me, my gaze landed upon a bookstore. Outside, shelves adorned with magazines caught my attention. In that moment, a familiar face in the corner of my eye drew me closer. I reached out and pulled the magazine from the display, my heart sinking as I glanced at the cover. It featured my ex-husband Andrew and Kelly, his former mistress, on a wedding magazine cover.
A bitter smile formed on my lips as I absorbed the sight before me. Here I was, the first wife whose identity had remained hidden, while Kelly, the woman who had once played a role in destroying our marriage, was now showcased, proudly announcing their upcoming nuptials to the world. The irony of the situation weighed heavily upon me, evoking a mix of emotions that I struggled to process.
"They look good together!" a customer beside me exclaimed as they had the same magazine in their hands.
After setting the magazine down, I made my way outside the mall. Curiosity piqued, I noticed a crowd gathering around a middle-aged busker, captivated by his lively performance. He sported a retro hat, a leather jacket, and worn-out jeans. Something about his face struck a chord of familiarity within me.
Taking a seat on a nearby bench, I allowed myself to immerse in the melodic tune he played. As he reached the end of his song, applause erupted from the audience, who had eagerly joined in the experience. A warm smile spread across my face as I observed the joy and connection shared in that moment. The power of music to bring people together, even in the simplest of settings, reminded me of the beauty and resilience of the human spirit.
"Did you enjoy the song?" he asked, startled to find the busker standing right in front of me. The crowd had dispersed, and he seemed ready to call it a day.
"It was lovely," I replied, offering him a faint smile.
He chuckled, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "You don't have to force yourself if you didn't like it."
I smiled back, this time with sincerity. "I genuinely enjoyed it. It was beautiful, but also quite melancholic."
His face lit up with surprise at my words. "Do you know music?"
"Not really," I admitted with a shake of my head. "But I have learned how to play the guitar."
"Let me hear you play," he encouraged, opening his guitar bag and handing me his instrument.
Reluctantly, I accepted it, strumming the strings before taking a deep breath and beginning to play. The notes flowed through my fingertips, as I poured my emotions into the melody.
"Nice. You're good," he complimented me after I finished the song.
I chuckled modestly. "I only learned because of someone."
With a knowing smile, he asked, "So, did he fall for you?"
I shrugged my shoulders, a touch of sadness in my voice. "Nah, he's heartless."
As we exchanged a smile, prepared to say our goodbyes, a man dressed in a black suit approached me. "Ms. Hart, kindly step into the car," he gestured towards a luxurious vehicle bearing the Vanguard Holdings logo. I noticed the busker avert his gaze and pull his hat down over his eyes. He hastily bid me farewell. A moment of confusion washed over me. Was it all just in my head? And why did the busker appear to be hiding?
I wasn't able to express my gratitude to the busker for our conversation. It was comforting to have the opportunity to share my feelings, even if it was just with a stranger.
As I entered the car, I found Andrew's grandfather, Sebastian, waiting for me. Concerned about my pregnancy, he asked, "How are you doing these days, dear?"
"I'm doing alright," I replied with a smile.
He reassured me, "Don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it," squeezing my hand gently.
I nodded in agreement, but deep down, I wanted to distance myself from the family, especially since Andrew, my ex-husband, was planning to remarry.
Curious about our destination, I asked, "Where are we going, Mr. Collins?"
I noticed a change in his expression.
"Are you no longer going to call me grandpa now that you're divorced?" he questioned.
Feeling embarrassed, I averted my gaze and looked out of the car window. Based on the surroundings, I could assume that we were heading back to Grandfather Sebastian's mansion.
"Please wait for me in the study, my dear," he commanded, and his assistant wheeled him to his room.
I took a step towards his study, passing by the bustling servants going in and out of the kitchen. It seemed that there would be a grand feast later.
As I walked by, I overheard a conversation between two servants. One of them, carrying a tray of glasses, remarked, "Women don't live long in this family."
The other servant quickly covered her mouth with his hand and whispered, "Shhh... someone might hear you. We don't want to risk losing our jobs, do we?"
Our eyes met, and they seemed embarrassed by their slip of words. I smiled at them, silently assuring them that I wouldn't breathe a word, so they needn't worry.
As the servant opened the door to my grandfather's study, I stepped inside and took a seat on the plush leather sofa. Taking a moment to observe the room, I was captivated by its elegant and sophisticated ambiance.
The study was adorned with rich mahogany bookshelves, filled to the brim with leather-bound books of various sizes. The shelves reached from floor to ceiling, showcasing a vast collection of knowledge and wisdom. The warm glow of a vintage desk lamp illuminated the polished wooden desk, where papers and antique writing instruments were neatly arranged.
The walls were adorned with intricate oil paintings, depicting scenes of grand landscapes and portraits of distinguished ancestors. A large, ornate fireplace stood proudly against one wall, adding a touch of warmth and coziness to the room. The crackling fire emitted a gentle flicker of light, casting dancing shadows across the room.
In the corner of the study, a small bar cart displayed an array of fine spirits and crystal glassware, inviting guests to indulge in a moment of relaxation. The air carried a faint scent of aged books and a hint of cedar from the bookshelves.
The door swung open, and my eyes were immediately drawn to my grandfather's wheelchair being pushed into his study by his assistant. His gaze beckoned me to approach, and I cautiously walked closer to his desk. As his assistant retrieved a folder and handed it to me, I took a seat in front of my grandfather's imposing desk.
With trembling hands, I opened the folder and began to read its contents. My eyes widened in disbelief as each word sank in. The shocking revelations within the pages left me speechless, my mind reeling with the implications of what I had just discovered.