Chapter 1

There are a few moments in one's life where one decision could change the rest of their trajectory, change anything—from the people they meet, where they live, what they eat, what they learn, what job they do, who they fall in love with. I wondered what my life would have been like had I stuck to my decision to escape from this house when I was a teenager, instead of coming back after three days.

Would I have found happiness, peace in leaving this life behind, or just regret? Would I have gone to college or found another passion? Would I be married? Would I have found fulfillment? What if, tonight, I stopped playing the game of the obedient daughter? What if I broke the rules of decorum and did what I truly wanted?

I was toying with the idea of causing mayhem tonight, ruining my birthday party, taking them all down with me in a spiral of pent-up anger and resentment. But when it came down to it, I always lost my resolve and managed to reason with myself, for better or worse, and I'd put the rebel back in a box and focus on what was expected of me.

Instead of putting on my jeans and sneaking out of the house as my heart was begging me to do, I ordered myself to take a very deep breath. I walked toward the king-sized bed covered with a silky comforter and thousands of throw pillows. If anything, my bedroom always brought me peace.

Richard, my stepfather, had let me redecorate it to my heart"s content years ago. I had chosen light-gray wood furniture with soft, gold-colored drapes and the most comfortable mattress money could buy. The room was elegant and airy, the light colors always calming and reassuring. It was my own little oasis in a house that had always felt too big, too empty for me.

For the evening, I opted for a long black dress. The color reflected my mood perfectly. As I approached the mirror, I noticed how the dress hugged my curvy features. It had a single sleeve on the right shoulder, tied up with a gold brooch. I picked up my makeup and started my routine, picking colors specifically to bring out my hazel eyes, straight nose, plump lips, and delicate oval face inherited from my mother. I undid my hair bun and let the dark-brown cascade of wavy hair fall down the middle of my back.

While I enjoyed parties and balls, this night was a bit different. Richard had organized the evening festivities in honor of my twenty-eighth summer. My stepfather had insisted that this year be a big celebration, but he really was just using my birthday as an excuse to invite the most affluent families in California. What he wanted was to show off his opulence. He wanted to use the opportunity to strengthen his professional relationships, show everyone how rich he was, and strut his beautiful daughter in front of eyes filled with desire, admiration, and jealousy.

When I finished my makeup, I walked to the bed and slid my heels on, fastened my gold bracelet around my left wrist—one of the few items I had of my mother—and attached a pair of golden earrings to my ears, hanging with emeralds, matching the stone in my brooch. This was as good as it was going to get. I was grabbing my golden bag to put my cell phone in when I heard a knock on the door.

"Come in, it's open." Richard entered the room, seemingly annoyed.

"Are you ready? You know I want us to go down the stairs together," he announced.

"I'm ready," I replied, pursing my lips.

Richard was a pale-skinned man in his sixties with intense blue eyes and wavy white hair. He was a bit short with a fairly full body. His eyes and smile charmed everyone who did not truly know him.

I knew better.

I hated this man with every fiber of my being. I cursed the day my mother married him. I was only two years old then, and two years later, my mother died in a car accident and left me with this man for a father.

I had very few memories of my mother, but I remembered her perfume, her smile, and the sound of her voice. I remembered the feeling of being loved, of being comforted, of being fed. My mother was warmth and safety, all of which got ripped from me in an instant, leaving me in the hands of a stranger as a poor excuse for a father.

I didn't know anyone from my mother's family. From a young age, Richard had explained to me that my mother's parents had died, and he knew nothing about my father, who had abandoned my mother when he learned that she was pregnant with me. Richard never stopped reminding me that my mother was a starving artist who had left me with nothing and that, without him, I would be on the streets or in an orphanage.

The man was a bully and a nightmare who always treated me as a charity project instead of the daughter he claimed me to be. When I would disagree with him, he would threaten to kick me out "like the fucking orphan" that I was.

I had spent a good part of my childhood with Richard in Mexico, but after my eleventh birthday, he decided that we should relocate to LA, claiming it was where his business partners and dealings were. Richard always had a strong hatred for Mexico, but I never understood why. And even when he traveled back for business from time to time, he always refused to take me with him.

It always felt like, if he could, he would get rid of everything that connected him to his roots. He even took classes to remove his accent so people couldn"t tell where he was from.

As I got older, he became more vicious in the mental games he played. He made it his mission to remind me that he had paid for the expensive bachelor's degrees in hotel management and English that I had obtained in New York and that I "wasn't worth shit" without him. It was his way of ensuring he would forever have his claws in me.

My attention was snapped back to reality as Richard grabbed my hand and brought me to the mirror.

"Well, very beautiful," he declared. "My guests will be delighted to see you! I think George will be happy as well," he said with a clever smile on his lips.

George and I had been dating since I returned to LA after my college graduation and had gotten engaged a few months ago. His ring was shining on my finger, the weight of it feeling uncomfortable. Richard had urged me to meet him, and eventually, I agreed. George was the son of one of the most powerful businessmen in LA, so for Richard, a relationship between the woman he introduced to the world as his daughter and George was a transaction he could not avoid making.

While I had been reticent at first, eventually I agreed to date him. The truth was, I didn't really have high hopes when it came to men, but the long distance worked out. I went to Stanford for my graduate degree, and he gave me the distance I so craved in life.

Honestly, I considered George to be a decent man, but I hated the fact that he was Richard's protégé.

"Let's go," ordered Richard, slightly pushing me toward the door. "It's showtime."

I took a deep breath, put a dazzling smile on my face, and proceeded to walk out of the room and down the hallway as instructed. I would not have to endure this situation for much longer, I reminded myself.

When we got to the top of the stairs, Richard put his arm around me. We trailed down the staircase together as the guests were cheering and shouting, "Happy birthday!" I forced myself to smile and accept the greetings, kisses, and hugs I received from all these strangers.

After all, in the eyes of California's elite class, I was the happiest young woman in the world. I had it all. According to them, I was beautiful, young, and wealthy, with a father who adored me and the perfect fiancé to top it all off. The world saw Richard as a very clever businessman and a good father to his only daughter—he played the part quite well.

"There you are, honey, more beautiful than ever," said George, kissing my hand. "Happy birthday again."

"Thank you," I replied with a smile.

George was a tall, slim, but slightly muscular man with beautiful blue eyes that inspired peace. His light-blond hair was combed toward the right side of his face.

He grabbed two glasses of champagne from one of the waiters and handed me one.

"Thank you."

"Cheers, my dear," said George, toasting with his glass.

The evening was going as slowly as I had feared. I went from group to group with Richard and George by my side. I kept smiling and behaved as the pleasant, seductive, and attractive host Richard wanted me to be.

The celebration was taking place in one of the large halls of the house, which had been transformed into a dance floor surrounded by golden high-top tables for cocktail hour. The event planning crew had installed two bars at each end of the room. Near the entrance were musicians playing soft, instrumental music so the attendees could still hear each other talk.

There must have been at least a hundred people and more than a dozen waiters making sure there was no shortage of drinks and appetizers. I generally found this house, with its white walls and marble floors, to be quite stale. Even the paintings on the walls were devoid of color and life.

Richard had confused sophistication with boredom, as Iris loved to explain—a lesson I feared my stepfather would never learn. But this was no longer my home. Frankly, it never really was.

"Yesterday, Richard and I finally convinced Mr. Ramos to let us buy his property," said George.

"That's very good!" I replied, pretending to be interested in the conversation.

After a while, I got a little distracted. For the past thirty minutes, I had observed a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and tan skin staring at me as he made his way through the crowd. He was dressed in a tuxedo, like most men were this evening, but he had chosen a thin black tie instead of a bowtie. He kept a hand in his pocket as he talked to guests, but he was clearly following my every move with his gaze.

I couldn't see his features very well, but I was sure I had never seen him before. I wouldn't have forgotten a man who looked like he fit—but also didn't. I turned to give him my back and wrapped my arm around George's, still feeling his gaze down my spine. George turned his head and kissed me on the forehead, likely feeling my discomfort.

"Are you okay?" asked George.

"Yes, just a little tired. You know I didn't want such a big birthday party. I would have preferred a dinner for two or to go to the movies."

"We must celebrate. Your father would have been very sad if you had not agreed to have this gala. Look around at everyone who came to see you! Only you could complain about a celebration like this."

"I don't really know these people, and frankly, their company doesn't do much for me."

As George was getting ready to retort, a group of guests joined us. As I smiled and accepted their compliments, Iris made her way to me.

Iris was tall and fit, a naturally elegant woman with warm, golden-blonde hair, defined cheekbones, and gorgeous blue eyes. Her stylish emerald dress, with a high cut on the front leg, brought out the shine in her eyes.

She had been my best friend since middle school, one of the few people I truly trusted in this world.

"I came to save you! Olivier was taking all my time, but I'm here!" said Iris. She knew that, behind what I hoped was a sensational smile, I hid a lot. She saved me from the inquisitive crowd and took me by the hand to go to the bar.

"Tell Olivier that I was here first!" I joked.

Olivier and Iris had known each other for only a few months, through a family connection. I was very happy for her, but I couldn't help but think the relationship was going way too fast. Iris was a tender soul, and I didn't feel like Olivier appreciated that. He seemed to be in a rush to infiltrate himself into every aspect of her life, and I wasn't sure of his intentions.

I had shared my doubts with Iris, and since then, I felt that he was avoiding me. Iris promised that she hadn't said anything to Olivier, but his behavior seemed to indicate the contrary.

"You have to admit, this is a nice party," teased Iris as we managed to grab an empty table by the bar, a bit far from the rest of the crowd.

"I mean, I didn't expect anything less. He should have hired you, but no, he had to get the same designers his competition used. Instead, the man hired two party planners and made them compete against each other until the very last second."

"Wow, that's intense."

"It always is," I acquiesced.

"Well, I know you hate this, but all we can do is enjoy it," concluded Iris.

"Amen to that!" I declared as I gently tapped my glass to Iris's.

Iris and I had been best friends since the first week Richard and I had moved to LA. I had been in school for about a week, a confused little girl who barely spoke any English. Other kids had made fun of me for that. All I wanted was to go back to the life I had been forced to leave behind—a whole different culture, different language, friends, a home that still had memories of my mother.

But instead, I found myself in an unknown land where people looked at me with curiosity, and sometimes disdain, like they didn't know what I was or how to behave around me.

Then, one day, while I was sitting in the back of the cafeteria alone, Iris came and offered me half of her sandwich. She had introduced me to other kids in the school and made sure, perhaps without realizing, that I didn't continue to feel like an intruder in my new school. Richard had been thrilled because Iris's dad was a very successful fund manager—just the type of person he wanted desperately to be around.

Iris had been my confidant and gave me strength through her friendship. I missed our Sunday brunches and our escapades to the spa as retaliation against Richard or whatever was pissing us off. She was an excellent interior designer who was already making a name for herself in California. She had started a social media page before college, and was now booked months in advance. We dreamed of working together one day, with Iris deciding themes and decor for hotel chains I would be running.

"I wish Keisha and Chloe had made it," said Iris.

"Yeah, me too, but you know those lawyers and their crazy work schedules," I joked.

"I know." Iris and I met Chloe and Keisha at a college party, and the four of us had been inseparable ever since.

Keisha, Chloe, and Iris had been my everything at the time. It wasn't boys, but the promise of a career and the love I got from that group of wonderful women. We traveled together, protected each other, took care of each other when one of us was sick. A real support system that made me feel like I finally belonged somewhere. Those girls had become like a family to me.

My mind wandered back to the man who had been making me feel uncomfortable all night. I looked for him around the room, but I could no longer find the man in black.

By the time the clock hit almost eleven in the evening, I was at my wits' end, tired of pretending I was having a good time, so I decided to announce that I needed some fresh air as an excuse to be alone. I quickly removed myself from the group that had interrupted my exile with Iris and claimed to be heading to the bathroom.

When I was finally out of sight, I walked down the hall to the enormous, two-island, all-white, marble-countertop kitchen. I moved through it, quickly exiting to the beautifully landscaped garden. It was an unusually chilly night in May, and the moon was full and beautiful, its light reflecting softly on the trees and their leaves.

I took a deep breath, feeling my shoulders relax instantly. I took off my shoes and walked over to a bench. I sat down on the stone and closed my eyes, letting my feet softly graze the wet grass, my mind drifting into thoughts of the new life I was about to start.

I found peace in thinking about my plans to get away from my stepfather forever. He wanted George and me to live with him after our wedding. I frankly didn't understand why he always wanted to keep control over my life, considering he despised me.

I had hoped that once I turned eighteen, he would make good on his constant threat of getting rid of me, but when I told him I wanted to go study in New York, he had been adamantly opposed. I knew that my reputation was my most precious asset in his eyes since, being his beloved stepdaughter, I was an extension of him. So, I started to party with pretty questionable characters, and those wonderful times were documented all over social networks.

When he learned that I was dating "bums" as he called them, he let me go study in New York. I spent four wonderful years studying at NYU, and then I spent a year traveling Europe. When I returned to New York, after having job offers mysteriously rescinded, I agreed that I had to go back to California, temporarily. I eventually became suspicious that Richard had used his connections to close the doors for me in New York, but I had no proof.

Once I was back in LA, feeling defeated, I eventually caved and worked at one of Richard's hotels. He eventually allowed me to work in the company directly, but with supervision and only when he was there.

Despite Richard treating me like a child, I loved it. I developed an interest in company management and had a desire to be at the round table of executives making decisions, but it seemed like Richard had different plans for me. He wanted to join his company with the McAllens's company once I married George. He didn't want me working. He never saw women as equals. I knew that by how I witnessed his treatment of female employees. After that experience, I swore to myself that I would be independent and never need Richard in my life ever again.

That was when I decided to enroll at Stanford, and a month ago, I graduated with my MBA. As much as I wanted to be involved in Hotel Estrellas, Richard's company, I did not want to work for him. I had secretly secured a job in New York and planned on moving out of this house in a month.

A noise in the trees snapped me back to reality and I refocused on my surroundings. I got up and looked toward the bushes, trying to find the source of the interruption. Suddenly, I felt a hand grab me by my waist and, before I could cry out, another hand placed a cloth soaked in strong liquid over my face. I tried to fight whoever was attacking me but to no avail.

When I realized I wasn't going to win, I felt fear invade my brain, and before I could try to strike my attacker one last time, everything turned dark.