This can't be true

ROSALINE’S POV

“You are a heartless bitch. You should have just died along with your miserable mother. Why are you still living and tormenting my son? Just die, you whore,” my stepmom spat venom. Initially, I thought of brushing it off and heading to work, but the mention of my late mother as ‘miserable’ struck a nerve. I could put up with being called a bitch, a whore, or whatever, but insulting my late mother is something I can never accept.

“Listen carefully because this will be the last time I say this to you,” I declared, turning around with a menacing look. “The next time you call my mom miserable, I’ll make sure you and that useless son of yours are kicked out of this house. I’ll see to it that you leave empty-handed.” Grabbing my handbag, I made my way to the door, but the crazy woman grabbed my arm and yanked me back. In an instant, I spun around, eyes ablaze with anger.

“How dare you touch me?” I demanded, yanking my arm free from her grasp. In an instant, she crumpled to the ground, clutching her cheeks and wailing loudly. ‘What is happening?’ I asked myself, bewildered. Then, my dad’s voice cut through the chaos:

“Rosaline, what the heck did you do to your mum?”

As my dad descended the stairs, it dawned on me that his witchy wife was playing mind games. I smiled inwardly and turned to face my dad.

“She’s not my mom, and I didn’t do anything to her. If that’s all, I’m off to work.”

“Don’t you dare leave this house, young lady,” my dad ordered, unwittingly stepping into the tangled web of his wife’s theatrics.

I let out an exasperated sigh and sank into the plush couch, crossing my legs as I observed the theatrical scene unfolding before me. Dad was playing the doting husband, helping his wife onto one of the cushions. Gripping her unproductive, manicured hands, he asked with concern etched on his face, “Honey, what did she do to you?”

Feigning an exaggerated yawn, I showed my frustration, absolutely over their lovey-dovey charade. All I wanted was to escape this house and bury myself in work. There were piles of files begging for my attention.

“I was just telling her to try and get along with her younger brother, but she cut me off and warned me not to mention my miserable son in front of her again. When I tried to caution her, she... she... slapped me,” the witch narrated, her voice dripping with crocodile tears.

Dad shot me a fiery look, his eyes burning like a raging volcano. “When did you become like this, Rosa? How could you slap your mum?” he demanded angrily.

I stared right back at him, unfazed by the anger that used to send shivers down my spine. “I have said this before, but you keep making me say it again. This woman is not my mum; she’s just your wife.” I didn’t bother defending myself, knowing he wouldn’t believe a word I said. This wasn’t the first time, and he always sided with his witch.

“Rosaline Robinson, watch your tongue. I won’t stand here and watch you make rude remarks about your mum,” he warned, his voice trailing off as I angrily stood up.

“For Christ’s sake, Dad, she is not my mu—”

SLAP!

I held my stinging cheek in disbelief. My father had slapped me, all because of a woman after our money — no, my mum’s money. Holding my reddened cheek, I glared at the witch smirking beside my dad. She got what she wanted. As she began to cry again, my dad lowered his gaze to her. Without sparing them another glance, I stormed out of the house, leaving the drama behind.

“Come back here, Rosaline!” My dad’s frustrated voice echoed, but I paid no heed. I stormed into the garage, only to find my stepbrother leaning on my car.

“What’s wrong with everyone in this house? First, it’s your mom playing mind games, and now it’s you leaning on my car, obviously looking for trouble,” I snapped. Not giving him a chance to respond, I shoved him off my car with a rough push.

“Easy there, Cinderella. I wasn’t the one who slapped you,” he quipped with an annoying grin. I wasn’t ready to exchange words with another idiot, so I ignored him, fired up the ignition, and sped out of our mini-mansion.

Our family wasn’t always like this; there was a time when we were genuinely happy, back when my mom was alive. She was deeply in love with my dad to the extent that she transferred her company to him. Together, they worked tirelessly to build it up. However, everything fell apart when she discovered my dad had a son with another woman. Faced with this shocking revelation, my mom decided to transfer the company to my name. Tragically, she met her demise in a mysterious accident before she could initiate the transition. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if my dad played a role in her untimely death.

He barely mourned Mom for a month before bringing that witch and her foolish son into our home. My only goal now is to expand the company, make loads of money, and uncover the truth behind Mom’s death. It was no ordinary accident, and I was determined to find those responsible and make them pay.

The insistent ringing of my phone yanked me back to reality. I quickly found a suitable spot to park my car. Glancing ahead, I noticed another car stationed in front of mine. A guy and a provocatively dressed lady were shamelessly leaning on it, his hands brazenly placed on her ass. I ignored them and answered my call.

“Ma’am, you need to come to the company right now,” my assistant urgently spoke.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Some men are claiming ownership of the company. They came with legal documents, and...”

“Keep everything in check; I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I interrupted and hung up, stepping on the accelerator.

I arrived at the company,  greeted by chaos – employees in panic and a group of menacing-looking men wreaking havoc.

“What’s going on here?” I demanded as I approached.

A man in a black suit, seemingly their leader, glanced at me and replied, “If you don’t have my money, just shut up and get lost.”

Struggling to keep my composure, I retorted, “What money? I don’t recall getting any loan.”

“Young lady, the CEO of this company took a loan, and this company was used as collateral. Here are the documents,” he said, thrusting papers at me.

Someone must have fooled this man. I’m the CEO of this company. Though it may be registered in my dad’s name, I’ve been the one overseeing it since my mom’s demise. I flipped the papers open, and the first thing that caught my attention was the loan amount – a staggering 600 million dollars. If this amount of money leaves the company, we’ll surely go bankrupt. Turning to the next page, I froze.

“This can’t be true.”