MONICA'S POV
I expected Dad to scold Jessica, but his troubled look surprised me. Was he considering her feelings?
All this time, I worked hard, feigning pity, forcing out tears so Dad would give in. My usual act always worked, or so I thought, but today, he hasn't moved at all.
For a moment, I just stared at him, waiting for the familiar spark of concern in his eyes. My chest tightens, panic stirring beneath the surface when I see none.
What is wrong with him lately? Could it be that Jessica softened him during the two years I was away?
I heard Dad always assigned Jessica difficult tasks that took days, sometimes even a week or two, to finish.
Learning this, I was happy Dad was torturing her.
For as long as I remember, he always kept Jessica at arm's length, making her prove herself with impossible tasks and reminding her she was never quite part of us.
Jessica was always the outsider who needed to work twice as hard just to be noticed. But now, watching his attitude, my satisfaction turned quickly to unease when he suddenly seemed oddly considerate of Jessica, as though something deep between them had shifted while I was away.
'I must find a way to get Dad's sympathy, and so he will punish Jessica.'
Again, I forced some tears, grabbed Dad's cuff, and said, "Dad, I'd better go home and treat my cheek."
Dad turned to me. I smiled pitifully, tilting my head so he could see where Jessica had slapped me, hoping he would snap out of his daze. However, he looked confused instead, which I did not like at all!
"You need to see a doctor to treat your swollen face." Finally, he told me decisively. "Remember, you have an upcoming play. My assistant will drive you to the hospital."
Despite my efforts, Dad showed little concern, which I never expected. His coldness surprised me. I lowered my gaze and bit the bottom of my lip. "But, Dad?"
Is he kidding me now? Why does he not get angry at Jessica? I am the pampered Collins princess, and so I didn't expect this from Dad.
Before coming here, I'd rehearsed my performance until it was flawless. All the way, I cried, fanning my friends' outrage. Once they exploded at Jessica, I would step in, making it look like Jessica hit me.
It was supposed to be fake. But Jessica actually hit me—hard. Maybe by accident, but I don't care. Everyone saw it. Perfect. Now I can claim that Jessica is violent.
Earlier this morning, I had a morning appointment at a high-end salon with my best friend, Mia, when Terry sent me a picture of Jessica with Chadrick. My mood darkened in an instant.
I almost exploded, jealousy flooding my heart and overshadowing the excitement from my morning with Mia.
Chadrick is mine. I have worked for years to build my image, and being with him is my ticket to the top. He is my stepping stone to becoming a top-tier celebrity, the kind everyone envies and talks about.
Hence, I will not let anyone, least of all Jessica, steal him from me. He belongs with me, and I deserve everything that comes with him: fame, admiration, and the life I've always wanted.
I don't care even if our relationship is just for show, for now, but I'll win his heart once we're married.
Back in Italy, I could make any man chase me. Chad will be no different.
Clenching my skirt, I forced a smile at Dad. "It's okay. I'll ask someone for an ice pack and cream. We should have a first aid kit, right?"
I tried sounding more pitiful, hoping Dad would get angry at Jessica.
"Darling, you have a play next week. You need to see a doctor."
He looked at me with concern but still insisted on the hospital. My hope dimmed to disappointment.
That wasn't the concern I wanted. Frustration built—I wanted Dad to be furious at Jessica, to make her apologize and lose face in front of our employees.
But my imagination never became reality.
My lower lip caught between my teeth. I had no choice but to give in.
"Don't worry, Dad. My sister didn't mean to slap me. My friends are just protective and upset seeing her with my fiancé," I told him, forcing my voice to sound calm.
As I spoke, resentment boiled quietly in my chest; I hated that I had to stand up for Jessica, hated that my plan was unraveling before everyone.
I desperately wanted Dad to believe me, but somewhere deep inside, I feared he might finally see through my act.
"That's not true, Dad." Jessica's voice sounded from my side; her tone carried a chill and a warning. She added, "I have no intention of seducing Mr. Murray, and you know that very well, Dad."
Jessica's defense annoyed me. I glared for a second, then hid it quickly.
"But Dad, the photos…" I hid my displeasure and acted well, but he only sighed heavily.
"Jessica is correct. You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart," Dad said, but it didn't reassure me.
'What does that even mean?' I don't understand why Dad can't just be mad at Jessica for once? Why can't he take my side this time?
In the past, he would get annoyed quickly and scold Jessica, telling her she must know her place in the family. She should not act spoiled nor contradict what Mom says.
'But what is going on now?'
"Mr. Collins, you should punish Jessica for hurting your biological daughter's feelings!"
Mia spoke up for me. Relief surged—finally, I need not work up. Now, I just have to keep up my performance.
"Enough, Mia, Terry. It is just a photo. It must be a misunderstanding."
"Don't say that, Monica! I saw it myself! Don't believe Jessica!" Terry chimed in, making everything perfect.
I looked at Dad, but to my disappointment, he only smiled and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Monica, darling, you are right. It's just a misunderstanding. Your friend saw Mr. Murray open a door for Jessica. He's probably just being courteous, since your sister is assigned to negotiate with him. Murray Holdings is our most prominent investor, so it's normal to see them together."
"What are you saying, Dad?" My blood boiled. I hate that he assigned Jessica to work with Chad—he could have chosen anyone else!
"Mr. Murray only offered me a ride," Jessica spoke behind me.
I glared at her, irritation prickling inside me, then quickly feigned surprise so that I would be believable.
"Really, sis?" My voice drips fake warmth. I hate calling her that; there is no way I would recognize her as my sister. But Dad needs to see me as a good and understanding daughter. "Okay. Then, you're right, Dad."
~
TERRY
"But I clearly saw her and Mr. Murray…" Terry swallowed hard, feeling uneasy about Monica's swift acceptance.