He Rejected Me, His Father Worships Me

The mansion loomed, a beacon of wealth and privilege, casting an oppressive shadow over the tree-lined street and she braced herself before walking through the door. Stepping inside felt like entering a different world, one of polished marble floors, twinkling chandeliers and a string quartet serenading the arriving guests. Bolstered by the confidence of the vintage Chanel dress she had gotten from one of the thrift stores she frequented, she boldly walked around. She spotted her father at the bar, his smile widening as someone spoke to him until he turned and caught sight of her then the smile was wiped off his face. Lyse noted that he looked surprised to see her which gave her pause, why would he be surprised since he sent her the invitation. He looked older than the last time she had seen him, lines etching themselves deeper around his eyes, but his charm had not diminished. The truth was that, Lyse had not wanted to come. Her father's house held too many memories, almost all of them painful. Memories of being the unwanted one, the constant reminder of a past discretion, memories of years spent navigating the awkward and tense spaces between them afterwards so ever since she moved out of the house, visits were infrequent, laced with tension and conversations danced around the gaping chasm between them. So, an invitation to this house, let alone a party, was an anomaly. She wondered if it was a trap? Could it be a veiled attempt at reconciliation? She laughed aloud at her foolish and ridiculous thoughts. As if Sutton would ever allow that. Curiosity, an insistent buzz had flown around in her mind until she decided to go. Moreover, ignoring the invitation felt like admitting defeat, surrendering to the narrative of their fractured past and she was anything but a coward. As she approached her father, his wife Sutton came to his side and held his arm possessively and it took all of Lyse’s power not to throw up right at their feet. "So glad you could make it, sweetheart," she said, her voice a touch too high-pitched while she smiled deviously. Her words felt rehearsed, and the forced joviality sent a warning chill down Lyse's spine. She knew something was afoot, her father did not seem to know that she would be coming, could that mean Sutton had been the one who sent the text? Lyse did not put it past her bitter stepmother to orchestrate something so sinister, the thought made her uncomfortable and want to leave immediately. "Uhm," she said, her voice firm and not betraying the turmoil insider her. "So, what is the big occasion?" Her father’s silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Finally, he cleared his throat. "It's... a surprise. You will just have to wait a little patiently to hear it like everyone else." The smug glint in Sutton’s eyes put her on guard and she desperately wanted to leave but she maintained her ground. She had come to realize that nothing gave Sutton more pleasure than making her unhappy and she would not give her the benefit tonight. “Why don’t you mingle around and enjoy the party.” Sutton urged with another suspicious smile before leaving her alone to her devices. As she picked up a champagne flute and navigated the throng, her gaze landed on a figure bathed in the warm glow of the chandeliers and her breath hitched. Riley? What was he doing here? He stood beside a radiant Brooke, her step-sister, his hand possessively around her waist. Brooke, beautiful in a flowing white dress, beamed, her smile brighter than the lights overhead. Riley, her Riley, looked… different. Happier. A knot tightened in Lyse's stomach. Their eyes met. Shock flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a forced smile. He excused himself from Brooke and approached Lyse, his steps hesitant. "Lyse," he said, his voice strained. "I… I did not expect to see you here." "Me neither, somehow I was under the impression that you were away on a business trip." she said, her voice cold. The words felt heavy, laced with unspoken accusations. A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Before either of them could speak, Brooke came from behind and tugged Riley without acknowledging Lyse, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “Come on hurry up before dad does the announcement.” She said and dragged him away from Lyse’s side. Before Lyse could protest, her father’s booming voice cut through the tension. "Everyone, gather around!" He raised a glass, his smile strained. "Tonight, we celebrate a joyous occasion!" Lyse's heart hammered against her ribs in fear. Celebrate what? A sickening dread coiled in her stomach. "My daughter, Brooke," Richard continued, his voice thick with emotion, "has found love." Lyse felt the blood drain from her face. Love? With whom? Her gaze darted to Riley, his face pale, eyes downcast. The answer slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave but she refused to accept it. "And tonight," Richard declared, his voice trembling, "we gather to celebrate their engagement!" The room erupted in cheers, oblivious to the storm brewing within Lyse. Her vision blurred, the clinking of glasses and excited chatter a distant hum. Engagement? Brooke and Riley? It was impossible. A cruel joke. A nightmare she had to wake up from. Her gaze locked with Riley's, searching for a flicker of denial, a hint that this was some elaborate charade. But his eyes, usually warm and filled with laughter, were cold, distant. He looked away, his hand tightening around Brooke's and she went to his side, ignoring the flock of well wishers gathered and pulled him to the side. “What is the meaning of this?” She asked her voice deadly. “Listen Lyse, we are not compatible, our relationship was doomed.” He tried to reason “So you decided my sister was more appropriate fare?” She raised her eyebrows with incredulity written all over her face. “I am not your sister,” Brooked announced haughtily. “You are just an interloper, a gold digger just like your mother was.” She said. “Your mother is the gold digger and you are exactly like her, scarvenging through the bin for scraps and all you will ever...” *SLAP* Before Lyse could finish she felt herself being turned and slapped so hard that a flash of lights went off in her eyes and she staggered a little. “Get. Your. Filthy. Self. Out. Of. My. House!” Father bellowed loudly, drawing the attention of everyone who had not been listening to the fracas. “And don’t you ever return.” The truth, sharp and ugly, shattered the last vestiges of hope. Betrayal, a venomous serpent, sunk its fangs into her heart. She would never belong here and her father would only ever see her as a shameful piece of his past, Lyse felt the ground beneath her feet dissolve, replaced by a bottomless pit of despair. She looked at father’s disgusted frown, Brooke's saccharine smile, Riley's averted gaze and Sutton’s smug smirk. Finally, she could take it no more and she felt the emotion crawl up her throat and the threat of tears. No, she would never let them see her cry. She desperately scrambled through the suffocating atmosphere of people who were eyeing her with scorn. As she ran out of the house blindly, her ankle twisted. As she fell, she closed her eyes and waited for the horrible impact on the hard floor but it never came and instead she felt arms around her, holding her against a firm chest. She opened her eyes and stared up straight into a pair of the most beautiful honey brown eyes she had ever seen and for a moment she stayed there until she realized what she was doing, swooning in some stranger’s arms. She hurriedly pushed against him and winced as a bolt of pain traveled from her ankle through her body. The man reached out for her again and she held out a restraining hand before eyeing him like a skittish mare and hobbling away.