☘︎ Jᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ Rʏsᴏɴ ☘︎

When my father found out what I'd done by pulling that trigger in the dark, he'd crumbled.

I still remember the father who always stood strong, always told me to stand back up whenever I fell, how his knees gave out at the sight of my mother's form lying on the floor motionless with the bullet etched right between her forehead.

He'd crawled to her, had held her in his arms and kissed her forehead over the bullet wound so tenderly, not caring about the blood that stained his mouth from the wound, not caring about the poison that might touch his lips from the bullet. He'd kissed her like she was the most precious thing in the world. To him, she was. Mom was Dad's everything.

And at that moment, I'd felt like a monster for taking her from him. My hands were shaking, my mind couldn't make sense of what was happening. There was this constant ringing in my ears, this strange delusion that someone was watching me. I knew I should drop the gun but I'd kept holding it in a white-knuckled grip. I'd felt paralyzed to my bones, paranoid out of my mind.

"Violet. . .did you. . ." Dr Hareith had whispered, staring at the gun in my hand, at me like I was a nasty demon. I very much felt like one too.

I'd nodded my head, shook it, then nodded again. I don't know I don't know I don't know. My mom was pale in my father's arms, unmoving, dead dead dead.

I killed her.

There was a heart-rending sob building inside me but I was in shock, my tears frozen. I couldn't move an inch from where I stood, still couldn't process the reality of the situation I was in.

"Violet, what did you do?!" Suddenly, Hareith wasn't whispering anymore, she was screaming in grievance. Grievance of loosing her best friend. Her best friend who she lost because of me. She was screaming and crying so loud and in so much pain that the sound of more footsteps hurrying towards the room could be heard.

Dad should've despised me for what I did, should've given me over to the law enforcement for the crime I committed, for what I took from him. But he didn't do any of it. After gently shutting mom's eyelids, carefully placing her down and composing himself enough to stop sobbing even if slow tears still trickled down his eyes, Dad had approached me and whispered almost inaudibly, "Violet, you must go."

Samuel Davidson might never express it outright but he didn't love me in that very moment when he saw me crouched over my mother's form, over the love of his life's form, holding a gun that killed her. If he'd given me over to the police like I knew in that moment he wanted to, then it would cause Davidson Group's reputation the greatest hit. And he didn't want to loose another thing he loved.

It wasn't me in that moment he loved. How could he when I took his everything from him? He chose Davidson Group over me. And I understood. I understood why he needed to claim me dead so even when Hareith screamed to the world what Violet did, there wouldn't be any Violet to put the blame on. Because Violet Davidson was going to be dead too.

I didn't know how he managed to fool the world by switching the corpse of a girl my age from the morgue and displaying her as the dead Violet Davidson, or how he put the blame of the entire incident on a red-listed gang shooter running from the police. But he was successful. And when Dr Hareith screamed about a daughter killing her mother, she just seemed like a woman who had lost her mind after witnessing her best friend's death. Same went with anyone who'd accidentally witnessed the whole incident that day. They were a bunch of crazy people to the world. Because the said daughter had died herself.

It wasn't until hours later when I was buckled in the seat of a private jet, dazed and confused and fully ridden with guilt, being flown to seas apart after creating a mess of my life, did I really realize what Dad had meant.

Violet, you must go. As in Violet Davidson must go. Truly and permanently. Forever. Gone.

Even when a part of me hated Dad for not just sending me to prison where I deserved to be sent. For maybe choosing his company over what was the right thing to do, another larger part of me was holding onto the little shreds of sanity slipping through my fingers like sand. The guilt and grief stuck to me like a second skin, pulling me down down down a rabbit hole.

The fact that I was alone in a country I'd never been to before, knowing I was a monster, a monster who killed her own mother was ripping me to shreds and I was feeling way too much, insanity a hairsbreath away.
.

As I stand frozen in the ballroom among a crowd of whispering people, stealing menacing glances my way, I can't hear their words but my mind translates all of their moving mouths into a single word. Monster.

The strings that held me together after the incident when I pulled myself out of the rabbit hole of insanity by being Jennifer Artemis Ryson, by building a name on my own from the ground, by pushing back everything that resembled Violet Davidson and creating this ice-cold person who didn't have to feel all those things that twelve years old Violet did after killing her mother. Those strings were breaking. One by one.

Suddenly, I can hear it all around me like a church's bell, whispers growing louder and louder and louder.

Monster monster monster.

The single tear trickling down my eye feels so foreign, like such a weakness, a vulnerability. I hate it.

"Hey hey hey." A thumb slides away the tear from my cheek in a feather light touch.

When I bring my attention to the person holding my face, Lykas is staring deep into my eyes, raw concern ebbing his features. My four bodyguards are surrounding us, scaring away anyone who dares to approach me. Viviane looks at me with a newfound interest, standing next to one of the bodyguards while Siya yells into her phone probably trying to find out the source who published the article.

I start pulling back from Lykas, realizing I'm not alone, that I have thousands of eyes on me.

I cannot look weak in front of anyone even if Jennifer Ryson is going to be ruined with this article. I'm going to loose everything. I'm going to be back to twelve years old Violet Davidson after the incident again. Lost, on the brink of loosing her sanity and filled with grief.

I take a sharp breath at the thought, telling myself it's fine and taking a step backwards then another, towards the exit. I need to get out of here.

But before I can do just that, Lykas' hand grabs my wrist pulling me back to him, "You're not the one to flee, Ryson." He declares sternly.

I frown at him, even as another pathetic tear slides down my cheek, "Let me go." I cringe at the throaty tone of my voice.

Lykas loosens his hold on my wrist, taking a step towards me. His warm hands come up to cup my face again, his thumb sweeping away the tear, "Shush, Ryson. No one's going to believe the article so easily."

I want to scoff. Tell him he's so so wrong. Because all they have to do is a little digging, and they'll find out everything written in the article is true. I really am a monster. He shouldn't be my friend. Who knows when I'll loose it again and accidentally kill him this time.

Hell, I was even starting to delude myself by thinking the clown has been following me the past few days. In the yacht. . . I'm not even sure if the clown was really there or it was just me imagining him because I'm crazy.

"It's true." I whisper so low, my mouth barely forming the words.

I'm not sure he hears it and I'm not in my right mind to calculate the consequences of admitting that out loud. If Siya hears me, she's preparing to give me a lecture on how I made her work of scandal control ten times more difficult.

Lykas doesn't even blink, "The Violet Davidson bit? I think I believe that. I always did think Samuel's eyes were freakishly familiar. Now that I look at it, you both have the fucking same eyes. I'm an idiot not to notice earlier. It all makes so much sense now, even if I don't understand why you had to fake death. . ." He whispers the last sentence to himself, as if connecting some dots and realizing something.

Then his eyes find mine again. He wipes another tear away I hadn't even noticed escaping, "It doesn't matter what happened and I don't want to know unless you want to tell me. I know you wouldn't do that to your mother willingly." He rests his forehead against mine, "I trust you, Jenna."

I'm shaking my head, trying to form words. How could he trust me when I don't trust myself? I really did pull the trigger willingly, even if it wasn't to be aimed on my mother. My head is a mess.

From the corner of my eyes, I see Ethan Langford approaching me in long strides from across the ballroom, there's an odd expression on his face I can't register. Is he going to arrest me?

Lykas follows my gaze and his eyes harden as if he has the same question I do.

But he turns my face so that I'm looking at him, a newfound resolve in those champagne coloured irises, "I. . ." Lykas glances at Ethan again, at the people around us and then at me. His eyes follow the trail of tear that just wouldn't stop escaping my eyes, and his determination solidifies.

Lykas takes a deep breath, "I have an idea. It won't completely end the scandal, but it'll lessen the effect by a hard blow." His eyes soften when my blurry eyes narrow at him, his lips pulling into an apologetic smile, "But you'll have to act along with it. Do you trust me?" The last bit is hesitant, as though he feels like a fool asking it.

Because why would I trust him? We are business rivals. It's only recently we formed somewhat of a friendship and that too wasn't very strong of a bond to completely trust him. I don't even trust my closest friends entirely.

But there's such a deep-edged sincerity in his eyes, such guttural expression on his face every time he wipes away a tear like it's hurting him more than me.

Perhaps I'm being foolish, but at that very moment, I realize I do trust him. Atleast with this.

So I nod, "Yes."

Lykas tilts his head, a smile hiking up his lips, something about it is so charming yet mischievous, "Then c'mon, my darling business rival, let's make the greatest romantic headline of the decade."

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What do you think Lykas is going to do?👀

I had to shift the exciting bit to the next chapter because the chapter was turning too long🥲

But hey, atleast now we know the reason of the feud between Jennifer and her father 🚶‍♀️