Chapter 3 The fabrication

Tessa paced back and forth in her luxurious penthouse, her anger boiling. She had just received a report from her bodyguard and spies about Ethan's scandalous night with a stranger. She could hardly believe her ears when they told her about the tabloids and the pictures. Her fists clenched tightly, and her eyes blazed with fury.

"How dare he!" Tessa screamed, throwing a vase against the wall, shattering it into pieces. The loud crash did nothing to soothe her rage.

Her bodyguard, Marco, stood at a safe distance, wary of her wrath. "Miss Tessa, perhaps you should talk to Mr. Allen before making any decisions," he suggested carefully.

Tessa whirled around to face him, her face twisted with anger. "Talk? You think I should talk to him? After he humiliated me like this?" she spat. "I won't let him get away with it. I need to find that girl."

Marco nodded. "We'll find her, Miss Tessa. But first, let's deal with Mr. Allen."

Tessa stormed out of her penthouse, heading straight for Ethan's office. She didn't bother with pleasantries, barging in and slamming the door behind her.

"Ethan!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the large room.

Ethan looked up from his desk, his expression turning from surprise to annoyance. "Tessa, what the hell are you doing here?"

She marched over to his desk, slamming the tabloid down in front of him. "Explain this!" she demanded.

Ethan glanced at the tabloid and sighed. "It's nothing, Tessa. Just a one-night thing. It doesn't mean anything."

"Nothing?" she seethed. "You think this is nothing? You humiliate me, and you say it's nothing?"

Ethan stood up, trying to stay calm. "Tessa, calm down. You're overreacting."

"Overreacting? You cheated on me, Ethan! You embarrassed me in front of the whole world!" Tessa's voice was rising with every word. "Who is she? Who's the girl?"

Ethan hesitated. "It doesn't matter. She's nobody."

Tessa's eyes narrowed. "I'll find out who she is. And when I do, she'll regret ever crossing me."

Without another word, Tessa turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Ethan to deal with the fallout of his actions.

---

Meanwhile, back at Emma's house, the tension was rising. Emma had just returned home when she saw her stepsister, Taylor, lounging on the couch with a smug look on her face.

"You're home early," Taylor remarked, not bothering to hide her disdain.

Emma ignored her and started to head upstairs, but Taylor wasn't done. "Heard about your little scandal. Must be tough being the talk of the town for all the wrong reasons."

Emma stopped in her tracks, turning to face Taylor. "What do you want, Taylor?"

Taylor stood up, sauntering over to Emma. "Just enjoying the show. You always thought you were so much better than me. Well, look at you now. A pathetic mess."

Emma's patience snapped. "Shut up, Taylor. You have no idea what I'm going through."

Taylor laughed. "Oh, I know. And I love it."

Without thinking, Emma shoved Taylor hard. Taylor stumbled back, losing her balance and hitting her head on the corner of the coffee table. She cried out in pain, clutching her head as blood started to trickle down her forehead.

Emma's eyes widened in horror. "Taylor! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

Just then, Tamela came rushing in from the kitchen, her face filled with rage. "What on earth is going on here?"

Emma stammered, "I-I didn't mean to-"

Tamela knelt beside Taylor, examining the wound. "You're in big trouble, young lady. How dare you hurt your sister?"

Emma felt tears welling up. "It was an accident. She provoked me."

Tamela stood up, her face stern. "I don't care what she said. You don't put your hands on family. You're grounded, Emma. No going out, no friends over. You stay in your room and think about what you've done."

Emma's heart sank. "But-"

"No buts!" Tamela snapped. "Go to your room, now!"

Emma entered her room and slammed the door shut. She leaned against it, taking deep breaths to calm herself. The weight of everything that had happened crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of anger, regret, and fear.

Downstairs, Tamela was tending to Taylor's wound, her face tight with concern. "Let's get you to the hospital," she said, helping Taylor to her feet. "We need to make sure this cut isn't too deep."

Taylor winced but couldn't hide the triumphant look in her eyes. "She'll pay for this, Mom. She always thinks she can get away with everything."

Tamela sighed, shaking her head. "We'll deal with Emma later. Right now, we need to get you checked out."

They headed out the door, leaving the house in an uneasy silence. Emma sat on her bed, staring at her hands. She replayed the moment in her head, wondering how things had gotten so out of control. She knew Taylor had provoked her, but she couldn't shake the guilt.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at it. A message from Cassie popped up on the screen.

Cassie: "Hey, heard about what happened. You okay?"

Emma hesitated before typing a reply.

Emma: "Not really. It's a mess. I pushed Taylor, and she got hurt. I'm grounded."

Cassie: "Wow. That's intense. Want me to come over?"

Emma: "I can't have anyone over. I'm stuck here."

Cassie: "That sucks. If you need to talk, I'm here."

Emma: "Thanks, Cassie. I might need to vent later."

Emma put her phone down, feeling slightly better, knowing Cassie was always there for her. She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to make things right. She knew she needed to apologize to Taylor, but she also needed to confront the bigger issue: her relationship with her stepmother and stepsister. It had always been strained, and this incident had pushed it to the breaking point.

Hours passed, and Emma drifted in and out of a restless sleep. She was jolted awake by the sound of the front door opening. She could hear Tamela and Taylor talking downstairs, their voices hushed but tense. She knew she had to face them sooner or later.

Gathering her courage, Emma slowly made her way downstairs. As she entered the living room, she saw Taylor on the couch, a bandage on her forehead. Tamela stood nearby, her arms crossed and a stern look on her face.

"Emma," Tamela said, her voice cold. "We need to talk."

Emma nodded, taking a seat across from Taylor. She couldn't meet her stepmother's eyes.

"Taylor's injury isn't severe, but it could have been much worse," Tamela continued. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but this behavior is unacceptable."

Emma swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt her."

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Taylor snapped. "You always act like you're better than us. This time, you went too far."

Emma felt a surge of anger but forced it down. "I know. I messed up. I'm really sorry, Taylor."

Tamela sighed. "This family has enough problems already. We don't need you tearing us apart."

Emma nodded with disdain.

Tamela looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. you're still grounded. But I expect you to make an effort in apologizing to Taylor every day until she forgives you."

Emma's heart sank, but she nodded. "Okay."

Taylor smirked. "Looks like you'll be apologizing for a long time."

Emma bit her tongue, refusing to rise to the bait. She knew this was going to be a tough road, but she was determined to make amends. As she headed back to her room, she resolved to find a way to repair her broken family and prove to her stepmother and stepsister that they could overcome their differences.

---

Across the town, Tessa was deep in conversation with a private investigator she had hired to find Emma. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this girl than met the eye.

"We'll find her, Miss Tessa," the investigator assured her. "It's only a matter of time."

Tessa nodded, her mind racing with plans. "Good. I want her found, and I want her to pay for what she's done."

As she watched the investigator leave, a cold determination settled over her. This wasn't just about Ethan anymore. It was about reclaiming her pride and ensuring that no one ever dared to cross her again.

Chapter 4

Ethan's footsteps echoed through the deserted alley as he approached the old warehouse. The darkness enveloped him, and the cold air whispered secrets of the past. He paused at the rusted metal door, feeling the weight of memories pressing down on him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, and it creaked in protest.

Inside, the warehouse was a forgotten relic, covered with dust motes dancing in the faint light. Ethan moved cautiously, his senses heightened, every creak and groan of the ancient structure setting his nerves on edge.

"Ethan," a voice hissed from the darkness, freezing him in his tracks. It was a voice he hadn't heard in years, yet it still held the power to chill his blood.

Damian emerged from the shadows, his face illuminated by a flickering light bulb. His smile was a mask of malice, his eyes cold and calculating. "Long time no see, old friend," he sneered.

Ethan's jaw tightened. "Damian," he acknowledged, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he felt inside.

"I see you've decided to join me after all," Damian said, spreading his arms wide. "It's been too long."

Ethan took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "This ends tonight, Damian."

Damian laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the empty warehouse. "You think you can just walk in here and stop me? You've always been so naive, Ethan."

Memories of their childhood flashed through Ethan's mind. They had once been inseparable, best friends navigating the complexities of adolescence together. But everything had changed one fateful summer day.

---

They were twelve years old, playing in the neighborhood park under a blazing sun. A group of older boys decided to start trouble, and while Ethan tried to calm things down, Damian fought back with a ferocity that shocked everyone. The fight ended with one of the boys being killed, and Damian lied and told the police it was Ethan who was responsible for the murder. Ethan was immediately taken away by the police.

After that, Ethan's life took a dark turn. He became embittered and angry, blaming Damian for his fabricated lies. Their friendship fractured, and Ethan spiraled into a life of crime. But Ethan's father's wealth and power buried the fabricated murder case, leaving scars that never healed.

---

"Yes, Damian. This is your fault," Ethan said, his voice steady but his heart pounding. "You fabricated everything. You didn't have to."

Damian's eyes darkened. "You always were the righteous one, weren't you? Always trying to save everyone. But you couldn't save yourself."

Ethan stepped closer, his eyes locked onto Damian's. "I'm not here to reminisce. I'm here to stop you."

Damian's lips curled into a sinister smile. "You're too late, Ethan. Much too late."

Suddenly, the warehouse echoed with the sound of footsteps. Figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding Ethan. Damian's men, a silent army ready to do his bidding.

"Welcome to my world," Damian said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're right where I want you."

Ethan's mind raced. He had to think fast, find a way out. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings, looking for anything that could give him an edge.

"You won't get away with this," he said, his voice filled with defiance.

Damian stepped back, a smug grin on his face. "Oh, but I already have."

As Damian's men closed in, Ethan's heart pounded in his chest. He had to stay calm, find a way to escape. The walls seemed to close in around him, the darkness pressing down.

Then, an idea sparked in his mind. He scanned the room again, this time noticing the rickety scaffolding above. If he could just get up there...

With a sudden burst of energy, Ethan made his move. He dodged the first man, grabbing a loose pipe from the floor and swinging it in a wide arc. The man went down with a grunt, and Ethan took off, sprinting towards the scaffolding.

He climbed quickly, the metal structure groaning under his weight. Below, Damian's men shouted and scrambled to follow. Ethan reached the top and looked around frantically. There, in the corner, a skylight.

Without hesitation, he ran across the precarious beams, the scaffolding swaying dangerously. He could hear Damian's men clambering up behind him. Reaching the skylight, he smashed it open with the pipe and hoisted himself through.

The cold night air hit his face as he climbed onto the roof. He glanced back to see Damian's furious face in the broken skylight, shouting orders. Ethan didn't wait. He ran across the roof, leaping to the adjacent building.

He landed hard, rolling to absorb the impact. Pain shot through his side, but he pushed it aside, scrambling to his feet and continuing to run. He could hear Damian's men behind him, but he didn't look back.

He knew the city well, its twists and turns, its hidden alleys and dead ends. He led them on a wild chase, darting through narrow passageways and over fences, until he finally lost them in the maze of streets.

Breathing hard, he leaned against a wall, his heart racing. He had escaped, but he knew this was far from over. Damian was more dangerous than ever, and this was just the beginning.