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Section 1
### Chapter 1: PROLOGUE
"Sign these papers and get the hell out of here," he yelled, throwing the divorce papers at her. "You can't do this to me! You can't just leave me for another woman! For money!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" he warned and when she screamed at him again, he slapped her across the face, making her fall to the ground. "Get out of my house," he said. The tears running down her eyes had no effect on him. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand. The slap had left a red mark on her cheeks. "I'll leave," she said, defeated. "I'll take Caro and leave you. And your house. So you can go live happily with your new woman and her enormous wealth". The hatred in her eyes was imperceptible. "Caro stays with me," he declared. Kneeling on the floor, next to her, he said, "you think I don't know you'll run directly to the cops or your brother for help? I'm not an idiot. I can't risk you spilling my secrets to them. Your daughter stays here." "No! Let me take her with me. Please, James" she begged. "I won't be able to live without my daughter." "Then die!" he spat. Grabbing her arm, he started to pull her out of the house, "never show me your face again or I'll make your daughter's life a living hell." "Please, James. I won't go to anyone. Don't harm her. I won't tell any-" with that he slammed the door shut on her face. He turned around and his eyes directly fell on me. With an angry sigh, he walked towards my room. I stepped away from the door and ran to the farthest corner of the room. The sound of his footsteps gradually increased, making my whole body shiver with fear. When his silhouette appeared through the slightly open door, I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry." Fights between my mom and dad were not something surprisingly new. It happened regularly. Dad would come home drunk, get angry over the simplest of things and beat mom. Every day, before his arrival, mom would lock me in my bedroom to save me from his temper. I would be safe in my room, away from his anger, while my mom would suffer. All his curses. All the beating. The slaps. The things he would throw at her in anger. The hatred. Everything. She would never say a word in return, never retaliate to anything he said or did. Not until today. Today, mom learnt he was cheating on her and decided to confront him for it. He came home demanding a divorce instead. I had never seen my mother get angry at anyone before. But today, she was furious. Their regular fights were like cans of gasoline poured over their marriage every single day and mom's anger was the only little spark that dad needed to finally burn it down. She always saved me from him, never let me be at the receiving end of his anger that I was terrified of. But what now? She was gone. Mom was gone. He sent her away. "Please forgive me, dad. Please don't hit me." I don't know what I was apologizing for but whatever it was, he did not seem to care. Closing his right hand on my upper arm he pulled me to my feet. "Go, get me some wine," he growled. "Quick," he pushed me out of the room. I dragged my feet towards the kitchen. Tears streamed down my face and I made no effort to stop them. Why does that matter? Mom was gone and nothing else seemed important. Taking the wine from the refrigerator, I poured it into a glass. My hands were shaking with fear, causing some of it to spill. "What's taking you so long? Are you manufacturing the wine yourself?" came his angry voice from the living room. I wiped the spill, picked up the glass in a hurry and went towards the fireplace, where he sat, smiling smugly to himself. He appeared to be incredibly proud of himself for what he had done today. Not wanting to go anywhere near him, I placed the glass on the small table instead of giving it in his hand. He took his first sip, then spat on the floor. "Not this one, you useless girl!" he shouted in anger and threw the glass at me. With pure reflex, I dodged the glass but lost my balance and fell hard on the ground. The broken pieces of the wine glass pierced the skin of my legs. Blood oozed out from the fresh cuts onto the carpet. "Wonderful! Now you spoil my carpet. Clean all this before I return or be ready to face the consequences," he threatened as he walked out of the door. Fresh tears formed in my eyes, but it wasn't because of the wounds on my legs. The cuts though deep didn't hurt. The wound on the heart was deeper. It was so painful that I felt numb. Dad never loved me, I had known it all along. Yet, the coldness in his eyes every time he looked at me, pricked my heart. I hoped mom was fine. He had never allowed her to socialize much. There were not many places she could go to. The only people she knew were either dad's friends or his business associates. And with the threat that he had given her, I knew she would not go to the cops or even Uncle William. Her returning was totally out of question, the security guards around the house would never let her get past them. Nor would they allow me to step out of the house without dad's permission. They never had. Without much concern about the pain or the blood seeping out of the wounds, I picked the pieces of glass out of my flesh. There was a lingering headache around my temple and the tears just won't stop. Pulling my legs closer, I placed my head on my knees. "Where are you, mom?" I asked the empty room. Closing my eyes, I thought of different ways to reach her. Considering dad's influence it was going to be a challenge but I had to get her back. The next morning, I woke up to find myself still in the living room, on top of the carpet, surrounded by broken pieces of glass. He had told me to clean this mess! I quickly got up despite my legs protesting in pain. Deciding to clean myself first, I headed to the bathroom. The blood has clotted around the wounds and it took several minutes of soaking my legs in warm water to finally get rid of them. Next, I cleaned the living room giving extra attention to dad's precious carpet. After about an hour, when I was almost done with the cleaning, I heard the front door open. "Caroline! Caroline! Where the hell are you?" came dad's voice from the porch. For some reason, he sounded really happy. Did he bring her back? Of course, he did. Last night he was angry. That was only his anger and now he brought mom back. Wasting no time, I hobbled towards the front door, hoping to see mom back home. I came to a halt when I saw a woman standing beside him who was not my mother. This woman standing in front of me, with a fake smile and evil glint in her eyes was definitely not my mother. "Juliea," he said to the woman, "this is Caroline. I told you about her." The look on his face at that instant was of sorry. He was apologizing to her for my presence. The woman named Juliea smiled and came towards me. "Hello, Caroline. I'm sorry about what happened to your mom." She did not look sorry at all. "I can be your new mom." I stared at her for a good 10 seconds waiting for her to laugh at her quite humorless joke. She did not laugh. Then I turned to dad. He didn't laugh either. Instead, he was staring at me icily, "say 'hi' to her Caroline." "She is not my mom," I told him, anger boosting me up. "Not yet. But she will be. Very soon," he said. "Say 'hi," he ordered. I shook my head, "you sent mom away. You threw her out yesterday. You can't just-" The words died in my mouth as his hand struck my left cheek. "Never speak to me in that tone!" He warned. Turning to Juliea, he sighed, "I'm sorry about her. Her mother never taught her any manners." He gave me a disgusted look before walking inside the house with her. I stared at their backs in disbelief. What on earth was going on? This was not real. He can't just walk in with another woman claiming to be my new mom. Just last night he sent mom away and he already found a new 'mom' for me? This can not be true. Except, it was. I touched my cheek where he had slapped me. The skin was burning and it stung with the slightest touch. It was the first time that he had hit me. And the start of a horrible nightmare my life was about to become. - Analia
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### Chapter 2: CHAPTER 1- CRASHED
"It's my birthday, Caroline. You can't ditch your best friend on her birthday," Nadia reasoned with me. "I'm not ditching you, Nadia. You know what they're like. They'll never allow me to go out for a party," I told her, apologetically. Nadia opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. There was nothing to argue about. And Nadia of all people knew it best. I wasn't allowed to even step out of the house without my dad's permission. No matter how much I wanted to be with my best friend on her special day, I could not. His guards would be dragging me back home the instant he finds out I was out partying with Nadia. And she knew it. She was the only person I could open up to in all these years. We met three years back, at 'Mike's Coffee shop', the cafe at which we currently work. I had been working here for a year when she joined. We hit it off almost immediately. I turned away from her when a customer stopped by the counter for his coffee order. I passed him his frappuccino, which was the last drink order of the day. When I turned back to Nadia, she was still staring at me with hopeful eyes. "Do you want me to talk to them?" She asked with a very convincing smile. Remembering how the only few times she had talked to them had ended into a very heated argument, I shook my head, "no Nadia, you're not going to fight them." I took off my apron as the last customer walked out of the cafe. Nadia did too. "Someone has to. You can't be trapped with them forever," she said, angrily. Her anger was more for me than with me. Talking about my family always affected her temper. She hated them. It was good to have at least one person who genuinely cared. "But, I can't run," I forced a smile. Not that I have not tried. 8 years ago after that night when I had seen my mother for the last time, I had tried to escape. Every day after that incident, I had tried asking dad about her. He never answered. When I would keep nagging, he would hit me. When I ran away from his home the first time, he sent his guards to bring me back home. When I ran away the second time, he caught me and I was locked in my room for two days straight. The one time I tried to report him to a cop, he twisted the whole thing around and labeled me as a crazy child. It was then I realized, I can't really run away. He had money, which brought along a lot of power and influence. His connections were everywhere and there was no one I could go to. So, I stopped trying. Trying only made it worse. Not only for me but also for the people who helped me. Nadia must have seen the hopelessness in my eyes because she quickly engulfed me in a hug. "I'm sorry I can't make it better," she whispered, tightening her grip around me. "You make it better," I told her. Working at this cafe was the only time I felt at peace. It had taken a lot of begging, for dad to allow me to work outside his own company. In fact, Juliea convinced him to let me take a job at the cafe. She didn't want me at her workplace in their office. My presence made her sick. And the feeling was mutual. "Enough of me," I said, breaking the hug. "Go away now. You have a birthday to celebrate." Mike, the cafe owner, came towards us from the kitchen. He gave Nadia a bag and wished her a happy birthday for the second time. She peeked inside the bag. Her eyes twinkled seeing her favorite blueberry cheesecake in it. "Thank you, Mike," she beamed at him. "Now if you ladies step out, it's closing time," he said gesturing with his hand towards the door. "You're not going to the party?" I asked him. Our friends at the cafe were throwing a small party for Nadia at the nearest club. It wasn't going to be much, just a few drinks and random conversations, but it was going to be more than enough. Though it was amusing to note that the only person to not get totally hammered would be the birthday girl herself as she was allergic to alcohol. "My daughter's school called a while ago, she caught the flu. I need to look after her. I already apologized to Nadia for missing it," he said and Nadia nodded her head to confirm his claim. "You didn't have to apologize though," she said. "I hope Lily gets better soon," I said as Nadia and I headed out of the cafe. "You're going back to the jerk family?" Nadia asked. I chuckled at the title used. 'Jerk' was her go-to word for every bad person on Earth. "I have to pick up some jewelry for Lahaina and then yes, I'll be going back to the jerk family," I confirmed. "Lahaina? I hate her," she twisted her lips in disgust. I know, Nadia. You hate all of them. A few months after Dad first introduced me to Juliea, he married her in a small ceremony at the nearest church. It was that day she introduced me to her daughter: Lahaina. Apparently, she had a daughter from her previous relationship too. Even though I never liked Juliea for replacing my mother, that day I was happy to meet Lahaina. I had always wanted a sibling and I was excited to get a sister. It took me a few days to realize she was no better than her mother. It took me another few days to realize that Dad and Juliea didn't love each other. She married him as he was a good businessman who could take care of the funds she inherited from her father after his death, and he married her because the merger was going to increase his company's stocks exponentially. "Enjoy your day!" I waved to Nadia as she got inside the cab. Pulling the car keys out of my purse, I made my way to the parking lot. Juliea had ordered me to pick the jewelry from the store for Lahaina. According to her, the shop was close to my cafe but in reality, it was much closer to Dad's office. She just didn't want to do it herself. Neither did her beloved daughter. Saying I was treated like dirt in my own house wouldn't be an exaggeration. On the other hand, Lahaina was my dad's princess. I still could not figure out if he really loved her or if it was just because of her womanly charms that helped him get more business acquaintances. As soon as I got inside the car, my phone started to ring. I sighed looking at the caller ID. It was Juliea. "Did you get the jewelry?" She demanded as soon as I answered it. "Not yet. I'm on my way," I told her. Putting the keys in the ignition, I gave it a twist to start the car. "As expected, you sloth. Can't you hurry up!" She snapped. "I will if you just end this call," I countered. One thing I have learned living with them is to never speak anything against them. Yet, there were times when it got hard to control my anger and irritation. "Oh dear God, the girl is finally speaking. Come back here and we'll see what we could do about that," she threatened. It wasn't her that I feared, it was dad. Usually, he ignored me. Even at the dinner table, all three of them would be conversing with each other ignoring my presence. Initially, it used to bother me but not now. The ignorance was fine with me. It was the attention that scared me. A single mistake or a wrong word in front of him could land me into deep trouble. I never understood why he hated me that much nor do I know why he hated mom. The call ended. I kept the phone back in my bag and pressed the accelerator. The road was almost empty. It took me less than fifteen minutes to reach my destination. The Parking was almost full. The only place left for me to park was between the other two cars. Parallel parking had never been my forte. Though, there was nothing else I could do. With slow, careful movements, I aligned my car to the empty space. With even more care, I steered in. Just a little bit more and... I heard and felt the hood of my car hit the one before mine. I quickly turned down the ignition and hurried out of my car to assess the damage I had caused. Please only be a minor bump , I prayed to myself. My eyes went wide in shock seeing the car in front of me. It looked ridiculously expensive. Moving a bit closer, I realized it was a Bugatti. A freakin' Bugatti. It was a minor damage, my prayers were technically answered, but I knew better than to start celebrating. Even a small scratch on this car would cost a fortune. And what I did wasn't just a scratch. There were scratches, in plural, and a dent on the side. Not to forget the taillights that were slightly cracked as well. On close observation, it did not look like a minor damage at all. Whoever this car belonged to was going to be very furious. "What the hell did you do to my car!" came an angry roar from behind. Holy Crap! Very furious, indeed. - Analia
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