The Fault Dwells In Our Stars

My life used to be golden.

The flashing cameras, red carpets, and adoring fans; everywhere I looked, someone wanted a piece of me. I was living a dream that most people only fantasize about. However, dreams can rapidly turn into nightmares, as this incident demonstrated six months ago.

A perfect trap, and I had walked right into it.

"Izalea Benson, you're under arrest for money laundering and embezzlement of funds from the All-Star Best and Creative Agency," one of the agents declared with a severe determination.

I never imagined I'd find myself in this stance. Handcuffed. Surrounded by FBI officers, their voices were frigid and professional as they recited my rights. The cabin I believed was my sanctuary, my secret escape from the world, was now overrun with law enforcement.

Flashing lights from news vans lit the quiet, isolated location. I felt like a criminal in a story I never wanted to be part of. The press had already crowded outside, hungry for a story. They pointed their cameras at me as if I were a dangerous criminal. I knew the headlines were already writing themselves.

*Izalea Benson: Money Launderer. Embezzler. Fallen Star.*

The agents were professional but firm, I was escorted to the FBI vehicle. They shielded me as best as they could, but the barrage of questions and flashing lights were relentless.

"Ms. Benson, is it true you've been involved in money laundering?"

"Who else in the agency is implicated?"

"How do you respond to the allegations?"

I kept my head down, refusing to answer any questions. My mind was racing, trying to piece together what had just happened and what lay ahead.

I couldn't believe this had become my reality. I went from being Hollywood's sweetheart to making headlines in the latest scandal, and I had no idea how it happened.

But that's the thing about betrayal. You never see it coming, especially from the people you trust the most.

How did I get here?

The worst part was that I wasn't sure how I could explain how it all fell apart. It seems like just yesterday that I was the industry's rising star, lighting up the screen and gracing magazine covers. Now, here I was, a criminal in the eyes of the world.

As the agents pushed me into the back of the FBI vehicle, the gravity of my situation started to settle in. Stared out the window, replaying the last few months over and over in my head.

The car began to move, I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. Everything had happened so fast, and I was now facing serious charges. I thought I had been careful. I felt I had removed myself from danger. But it was evident that I had been wrong.

Now, it was too late.

I was no longer the adored actress Izalea Benson. I became a suspect. A cautionary story for those who climb too quickly or too high.

And while I sat there with my wrists still shackled in cold metal, I realized this was just the beginning.

But one thing was certain, I wouldn't go down without knowing *why.*

A tortured expression crossed my face as I curled deeper into the duvet. The darkness and eerie feeling from the dream pervaded my sleep, trembling in fear from the horror of my past. My father's violent rage and my mother's desperate pleas overwhelmed my thoughts.

Izalea awoke abruptly, heart palpitating. The constant buzzing of her phone broke through her agony, bringing her back to reality. The phone had been a delightful diversion, but now it was interfering with the quiet.

It buzzed nonstop, but I ignored each ring. I turned over and reached for my phone, intending to turn it off. A loud, insistent knocking echoed on my white door. With a groaning expression, I mumbled, "Go away," my voice heavy with discomfort and sleep.

"Izalea, are you okay?" My PA's voice, laced with a sharp edge of worry, filtered through the door.

Okay? Why wouldn't I be? Confusion clouded my blissful mood. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" I called back, feeling a flicker of irritation.

"Can you open the door?" she pressed further.

Pulling the plush duvet tighter, I whined, "I don't want to. I want my alone time!"

"You have to open this door. If you don't open the door, Izalea, we will break it down!"

Why would she want to break down my door? Panic surged through me. What in the world was going on? Was there a fire? Had I missed some earth-shattering news while I was blissfully asleep? A million questions swirled in my head, each more urgent than the last.

I heaved myself out of bed, legs shaky with a sudden, unsettling premonition. With a sigh, I shuffled towards the door, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Belle and Leonard's worried faces appeared behind the door as I opened it. "What is it?" I asked, searching their eyes for answers.

Belle was the personal assistant my agency got for me since I signed my contract with them. She has been my support system. She wanted what I wanted before I could say it. She reads my thoughts before she hears my voice. Honestly, I can't do anything without her.

"Are you okay?" Belle asked again, adding to my worries.

"Why are you asking? Did something bad happen?" Anxiety was an understatement of what I was feeling as I stared at their faces. "Can someone answer me?"

I could read on their faces that they were hiding something terrible from me. I feel like screaming and pulling my hair out. What was the worst that could have happened? Trolls?

"You've not seen the news?" Leonard's voice came out laced with concern. Since Belle had become mute, my assigned driver did the talking.

"What news? Is it different from the ones those trolls had been posting about me?" My questions met deaf ears again. I rolled my eyes because I couldn't contain the irritation.

"So you guys disturb my sleep because of those trolls? Are you kidding me?" I placed my hand on my face in resignation. Belle? I faced Belle, demanding answers.

"It is different, Izalea. It is bad and unfortunate." Belle broke her silence. Her gaze was fixed on me as she spoke. Whenever she doesn't do this, it will be a serious situation.

I sighed as the gravity of the situation hit me in the face. I don't know what it was yet but my heart is racing. "What the fuck happened?" I mustered the courage to ask.

She fumbled for something in her bag, she took out her phone from her bag. After scrolling through her phone, she passed it to me.

"Can't you just say it?" I don't have time to read anything, hearing it from her was better than reading it myself.

"I'm sorry, I can't read it." I took the phone from her to read whatever she wanted me to read. My stomach lurched, and my vision swam. Leonard's hands, thankfully, clamped down on my shoulders, anchoring me before I could crumple to the floor.

What had I just stumbled upon on Belle's phone? What the hell was this? The headlines screamed accusations, each one a fresh slap on my face, my past had resurfaced, and the nightmare was far from over.

"Your favorite actress, Izalea, rose to the spotlight by lying. She hid her identity and changed into someone else. Who knows whose identity she stole?" Every word crackled with accusation and hatred.

Izalea, the darling of Hollywood, built her career on lies. Who wrote all this shit about me? How did the media have access to my secret?

The accusations didn't stop there. The next headline sent a cold shiver down my spine. "Trending news: Izalea, whose real name is Jazlyn Gabby. Does the name Gabby ring a bell?" The name echoed in my head, a familiar ghost from the past. Could it be...?

The final headline landed with the force of a wrecking ball. "Izalea, the star of the latest movie, has been living under a different identity. You won't believe who her descendants are."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Everything became blurry as my head began to ring. Who told the media all this? And how did they know I was related to Gabby? This was the secret I had buried with Jazlyn, nobody knew about it.

The weight of the situation threatened to suffocate me. Was this how my life would crumble? What would happen to me, my career, and my mother? The thought of my mother made me panic. She had made sure to live her life away from the spotlight. What can I do now?

My legs and hands were shaking in fear. Tears welled up in my eyes. I avoided Belle's gaze. I don't want to know what she was thinking at the moment. I clung to Leonard's grip, desperate for a lifeline in this storm of the situation.

Finally, Belle's voice shattered the silence, "Are all these true? I know there are not, but I want you to confirm it yourself."

I returned her phone to her, I released myself from Leonard's grip. "Please, leave. I want to be alone". I ignored her questions.

"Izalea?" Belle and Leonard echoed at once. Their gaze was fixed on my face.

I avoided eye contact and turned my back on them. "I'm sorry," I said before I locked my doors behind me.

If I take one more step, my body will collide with the ground. I froze behind the door, slowly, I lowered my body and sat on the marble floor of my sitting room. My lips started to tremble as I burst into tears. I wanted to scream, to pull my hair out and claw at the whirlwind of emotion that surged through me at once.

How did I slip up?

My deepest fear rose like a monster from the depths; my family. The Gabbys. My father. The very reason my mother fled with me fifteen years ago. The reason my life had always been shadowed by secrets and lies. And now, the media storm was just noise compared to the terror of my family coming after us.

My father... he was the real fear. The thought of him finding me, dragging me back into the nightmare we escaped; crushed me. This was the terror that gripped my heart more than any headline.

I curled into myself, huddled behind the door like a broken doll. My head spun. My legs screamed from the awkward position, but the pain in my chest overshadowed it all. I had failed; failed my mother, my agency, and myself.

Only this morning, I was basking in the glow of a record-breaking movie premiere. And now? I was crumbling under the weight of a past I'd spent fifteen years burying.

How did it unravel so quickly? How was my name now plastered across every headline, twisted into scandal?

What would I tell my agency? Whatever my reasons were, they would never justify a scandal with my name plastered across every internet headline.

"Ms. Izalea, please open the door." Belle's voice floated in from the hallway, soft but urgent. "You can't lock yourself in forever."

I can't face her, I can't face anyone. I need to pull myself together, but I don't know how.

My phone buzzed relentlessly, each buzz sent a fresh wave of panic through me. Ignoring it felt like plugging my ears underwater. The pressure building inside me was increasing with every unanswered call and unattended notification.

I crawled to my bed, I was too weak to stand on my feet. I reached for the phone, the familiar weight a cold comfort in my clammy hand.

The screen lit up; headlines, messages, notifications, every single one a dagger aimed straight at my heart.

My thumb hovered over the power button, ready to cut myself off from the digital storm when a single notification on the screen stopped me. This headline screamed at me.

"From a reliable source: Izalea Underwent Cosmetic Surgery After Stealing Identity?! How could she be so fake?"

My stomach lurched. Reliable source? What did that even mean? Who was their reliable source? Who was feeding them this shit about me?

I knew I should stop but I could not. I clicked on the article, knowing it would hurt, but the need to know consumed me. What was wrong if I had undergone cosmetic surgery? What was wrong with changing my name for my safety? Did that mean I had stolen someone else's identity?

"She is a Liar," Her movies are wack!" - the hate poured out.

Why are people quick to bring others down? These were the same people who once praised me, now turning on me like vultures. Were they my fans, or were they haters from the beginning?

My hands were shaking with my phone in my grasp.

Tears blurred my vision as I scrolled through the hateful comments. The weight of their accusations pressed down on me.

How could everything change so quickly? It wasn't fair. It wasn't true. Was this my end? How could everything change so fast?

The consistent rapping of the door brought me back to reality. Belle and Leonard were still at the door, knocking nonstop.

"Ms. Izalea, you shouldn't be alone. Please, open the door." Leonard voiced out insistently. I knew he was capable of bringing down the door if I didn't unlock it. But still, I didn't.

And then... I saw her name.

Jasmine. My best friend.

Relief flooded my veins. The sight of her name on my screen was like oxygen in the suffocating storm.

Finally, the only person I wanted to talk to, was the only person that understood the gravity of what had happened. She had a special power to calm me.

Without a second thought, I answered, "Jasmine". My voice trembling as I cried out her name. "It is over for me."

"No, it's not." Jasmine's voice boomed over the phone. "It is not over until you say it is over, Izalea."