Chapter 1
1196words
She called him "beast," and he called her "baby."
And I, standing in the doorway, watched my world collapse.
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It all began three hours earlier.
Tonight was the group's annual Charity Gala, held in the most luxurious hotel ballroom in downtown New York. My father Damian, the king of this business empire, was confidently charming several senators with his wit. My mother Catherine maintained her elegant smile as she discussed the latest art exhibitions and auctions with a circle of socialites.
And I, Ava Anderson, was their proudest daughter.
Everything seemed so perfect.
"Ava!" A familiar and affectionate voice called from behind me.
I turned to see my best friend Scarlett rushing toward me. She wore a fiery red spaghetti-strap gown that instantly drew every eye in the room.
"You look beautiful tonight." I smiled as I embraced her.
Scarlett whispered in my ear: "Then you're the queen."
She made me laugh as I led her to our reserved table. Across the room, I caught my father's gaze drifting our way—casual at first, until it reached Scarlett. Then it lingered. Just a second too long.
A strange, unsettling feeling flickered through me.
I told myself I was overthinking. Scarlett was my childhood friend. Dad had watched her grow up. Of course he'd look. Nothing strange about that.
Dinner began with exquisite dishes and champagne flowing freely. Scarlett and I traded stories from campus, our laughter rising above the ambient chatter.
"God, Ava, you're so lucky," Scarlett suddenly gripped my hand, her eyes intense. "With parents like yours, you're literally the princess everyone wishes they could be."
As she spoke, I noticed her nails digging into her palm, blue veins standing out against her skin.
But her smile remained sugar-sweet.
Pride swelled in my chest. "Yeah, they really are the best."
Just then, I caught my father staring again. This time, there was nothing casual about it. His eyes locked on Scarlett with an expression I'd never seen before—hungry, possessive. Like a predator sizing up its prey.
And Scarlett—she felt it. Her smile never faltered, but her eyes flicked up, meeting my father's gaze across the crowded room.
A silent message passed between them that only they understood.
In that moment, I knew something was terribly wrong.
Halfway through dinner, Scarlett suddenly covered her mouth and made a face. "Damn, I need the ladies' room. This wine is stronger than I thought."
She stood and swept away, her fiery red dress trailing behind her like a warning flag.
I watched her go, unease spreading through my chest like ice water.
Minutes later, my father set down his wine glass and murmured to my mother: "Need to take this call. The European deal."
Catherine nodded, trustingly adjusting his tie. "Don't be too long. The auction starts soon."
Damian stood, his tall figure disappearing through the same exit Scarlett had used moments before.
One after another. What a coincidence.
My brain buzzed as a memory I'd deliberately buried suddenly resurfaced.
An afternoon a few weeks back. Perfect weather. I was driving to the mall when, stopped at a red light, I spotted a familiar car outside that discreet boutique hotel downtown.
My father's Bentley. The license plate unmistakable.
I remember thinking it was odd—he had no meetings scheduled there. As I puzzled over it, someone emerged through the revolving door.
Scarlett.
She wore a tight dress, her face flushed with that unmistakable post-sex glow. As she walked, she fixed her tousled hair, looking slightly flustered but underneath that—satisfied. Smug, even.
She slipped into an Uber and vanished.
I'd convinced myself it was coincidence. Scarlett meeting a friend. Dad's driver taking the car for maintenance. Anything but the obvious.
I forced myself to forget because I couldn't—wouldn't—connect those dots between my best friend and my father.
But now, watching them disappear through the same door, those two puzzle pieces snapped together with sickening clarity.
Panic clawed up my throat. I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't lie to myself anymore.
With shaking hands, I pulled my phone from my clutch. My fingers moved instinctively, opening the family location-sharing app.
Dad had insisted we all install it. For "safety."
The map loaded. Mom's blue dot pulsed steadily in the banquet hall, not far from me.
But Dad's red dot wasn't anywhere in the ballroom.
It was… upstairs.
In the presidential suite. The room our family had reserved for after the gala.
I shot to my feet, chairs scraping as nearby guests turned to stare. Mom looked up, concerned. "Ava? What's wrong? You're white as a sheet."
"I—I don't feel well. Going to lie down upstairs." I forced a brittle smile.
Ignoring Mom's questions, I fled toward the elevators.
The elevator doors closed, sealing off the music and laughter. In the sudden silence, my heartbeat thundered in my ears.
The floor numbers ticked upward like a countdown to execution.
Ding. The doors slid open. The corridor to the presidential suite was carpeted in thick cashmere that swallowed all sound except the desperate click of my heels.
The suite door waited at the corridor's end.
With each step, the scents grew stronger—Scarlett's perfume mingling with my father's cologne.
The heavy wooden door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness waiting to swallow me whole.
I trembled violently, teeth chattering as I pushed the door open.
The living room stood empty, crystal chandelier casting cold light. But from behind the bedroom door came muffled laughter.
Scarlett's laughter.
I approached the bedroom door, each step like walking on broken glass. My hand trembled on the cold doorknob as I pushed open the gateway to hell.
What I saw shattered my world in an instant.
The king-sized bed was a mess, expensive sheets tangled and twisted.
Scarlett—my best friend—wore nothing but my father's dress shirt, buttons undone to reveal pale skin and black lace underneath.
She straddled my father, both of them flushed and breathless, the air heavy with sex and sweat.
Scarlett smiled as she traced a finger down my father's chest. "God, Damian," she purred, "you put all those college boys to shame. You're such a fucking beast."
Dad grunted with satisfaction, gripping her chin. "And do you like this beast?" His eyes held that same predatory hunger I'd glimpsed earlier.
"I fucking love it…"
I stood frozen in the doorway, witnessing this soul-crushing scene, unable to move or even breathe.
My father. My best friend.
On the bed my family had reserved.
Their voices died as they finally noticed me standing there.
The lust on Dad's face vanished, replaced by shock and panic. He shoved Scarlett aside, scrambling for the sheets.
"Ava…" His voice cracked with fear.
Scarlett, though, took her time climbing off him. No embarrassment. No shame. She tugged Dad's shirt down to cover herself and turned to face me.
There wasn't a hint of shame on her face—only a taunting smile.
In the deadly silence, before Dad could stammer out excuses, Scarlett reached out and defiantly stroked his chest.
Her eyes locked on mine as she enunciated each word with vicious clarity:
"So, Ava darling… isn't it time you started calling me Mommy?"
