CHAPTER TWO – COMING HOME TO THE FAMILY

Sunlight pierced through the curtains, waking Madison with a pounding headache. Memories of the night came back slowly – kisses in a hidden garden, the cozy atmosphere of the speakeasy, and the whirlwind escape from Hollywood's superficiality. She sat up, feeling a pang of pain in her stomach. Beside her, the bed was empty and cool. Loneliness washed over her. Where was Ethan? Was it all just a fleeting moment of freedom before reality returned? Reaching for her phone on the bedside table, she winced at the flood of missed calls. 10 from Bella, 5 from Johnny, 3 from Veronica. Dealing with one was hard enough, but all three together would be overwhelming. Then, a notification from a social media app caught her attention. With dread, she opened it to find a headline: "Actress Caught in Controversy with Hollywood Executive!" Below was a blurry photo showing Mr. White's hand on her arm, his face twisted in a predatory expression. The article painted a false picture of Madison as a desperate actress seeking favor from a powerful man. Anger boiled inside her. Of course the reporters would make up such a false narrative. The real story, where Mr. White was the one making unwanted advances, wouldn't make headlines. Rushing out of bed, Madison struggled to find clothes, her limbs heavy from the night before. The world spun with each frantic movement, and she grabbed a silk dress that clung to her in all the wrong places. Digging through her bag, she found a mismatched pair of sandals – one sparkly silver, the other a practical black wedge. No time to worry about looks; she shoved them on, the pain a welcome distraction from her pounding headache. Leaving the hotel room felt like escaping a sinking ship. The hallway seemed impossibly narrow, bathed in harsh fluorescent light. She stumbled around the corner, hoping for an empty elevator. But luck wasn't on her side. The doors opened to reveal a group of socialites, their faces a mix of amusement and disdain. "Well, well," one woman drawled, her tone dripping with malice, "looks like someone had quite a night." The others laughed, adding to Madison's embarrassment. She gritted her teeth and pushed past them, her dress snagging on a purse. The woman yelped as her belongings spilled onto the floor, but Madison didn't stop to apologize. Reaching the lobby was a challenge, dodging hotel workers and curious guests. As she stepped outside, cameras flashed, reporters swarming around her. "Miss Miller! Can you comment on your encounter with Mr. White?" "Are you the mystery woman seen leaving his mansion?" "Is this a publicity stunt?" The questions blurred into a chaotic mess. Panic gripped her as she fought back tears. Pushing through the crowd, she hailed a taxi, but even there, she wasn't safe. Reporters banged on the windows, desperate for a story. Tears filled her eyes. This wasn't the glamorous Hollywood life she'd imagined. It was frenzy, and she was the target. As the taxi pulled away, leaving the chaos behind, she clenched her fists, hoping this wouldn't define her career. The taxi ride blurred by, neon signs flashing past as Madison sank into the worn leather seat. Her headache pulsed to the beat of her heart. Approaching downtown, where her stepmother, Constance, lived, memories flooded back. Her childhood was marked by grief after her mother died giving birth to her brother, Henry. Then Constance entered their lives, a beautiful woman with a cold heart, bringing her venomous daughter, Veronica. Veronica, with her blonde hair and sharp tongue, had tormented Madison for years. Even after Madison left to chase her acting dreams, Veronica's cruelty lingered. Now, with her career in jeopardy and her personal life a mess, Madison longed for solace in her childhood home – a sanctuary it hadn't been in years. The cab stopped outside the imposing brownstone building. Madison paid the driver and walked to the entrance, her stomach in knots. The apartment door opened, revealing Veronica with a smirk. "Well, well, well," she sneered. "Look who finally decided to show up. Did you hear about the scandal? Quite the 'public display of affection' you had with Mr. White last night." Veronica's words stung, twisting the knife deeper. Before Madison could respond, Constance's voice came from inside. "Veronica, enough! Can't you see she doesn't look well?" It was Constance, her concern hollow. "Just a headache, Constance," Madison forced a smile. "Long night." She braced herself for the questions and judgments sure to come as she entered the apartment. Constance guided Madison into the apartment, the air heavy with the scent of lilies and unspoken tension. Veronica, lounging in an armchair, greeted Madison with a predatory smile. "So, darling," Constance began, her voice dripping with feigned concern, "what's all this excitement in the tabloids about?" "Honestly, Constance," Veronica interjected, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "you'd think Madison would aim higher than a creepy old man like White." Madison winced at Veronica's sharp jab, feeling her nerves fray even more. She took a deep breath, trying to maintain composure. "It's not what it seems," she replied, her voice strained. "Oh, really?" Constance raised an eyebrow sceptically. "The pictures tell a different story, dear." Madison's resolve hardened. "There's more to it than what the photos show," she insisted. "Mr. White made unwanted advances towards me." Veronica snorted derisively. "Unwanted, huh? Sounds like you need to work on your acting skills, darling." Anger surged within Madison. "It wasn't like that, Veronica! He cornered me on the balcony, and—" "And you just happened to fall into his arms?" Veronica interrupted, her laughter cutting through the room. Madison clenched her fists, fighting back tears. "I didn't fall into anything! Ethan—someone—intervened." "Ethan?" Constance echoed, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Who's Ethan?" Madison hesitated, not wanting to divulge too much. "Just someone who helped," she replied vaguely. Veronica's smirk widened. "Sounds like someone you should stick with, then," she taunted. Madison felt her frustration boil over. "This situation is a mess, and I don't need your judgment on top of it," she declared, her voice trembling with emotion. Veronica's smile faltered momentarily, but Constance quickly stepped in, her tone condescending. "Oh, dear, we're just trying to understand." "No, you're judging," Madison retorted, her frustration evident. "Twisting things to fit your version of who I am. I came here hoping for support, not criticism." The room fell silent, tension thick in the air. Constance's expression wavered, guilt briefly flashing across her features before hardening again. Just as Madison felt overwhelmed by her emotions, a loud crash echoed from the hallway. The apartment door burst open, revealing a furious Johnny, his expression stormy with anger. "What's happening?" Johnny's voice cut through the tension, his eyes darting between the accusing stares of Constance and Veronica and Madison's tear-streaked face. "The news... is it true?" Madison's thoughts scrambled. "News? What news?" she stuttered, desperately grasping for an explanation. Veronica seized the opportunity with a sickeningly sweet smile. "Oh, Johnny, dear, haven't you heard? Seems like Madison's been making waves at some fancy Hollywood party," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. Johnny's expression darkened, and he strode towards Madison. "Is that what's going on?" he growled, his gaze piercing. "Some kind of stunt for attention?" He reached out, his fingers brushing against her neck. Madison recoiled as his touch sent a shock through her. "And these?" he demanded, his voice strained with anger and disbelief. "Are these... love bites?" Madison's breath caught in her throat. Betrayal burned in her eyes, leaving them hot and dry. She searched for words, but her mouth moved soundlessly.