Childhood Loves Go Mad Chapter 2

Every year, Julian Ashton threw me a birthday gala.

He called it a celebration, but I knew the truth. It was a performance, a way to market his public image as a doting father while parading me around for business connections.

I’d drunk myself into stomach ulcers at these parties, all for the sake of his damn projects.

But attendance was never optional.

A stir at the entrance drew my attention. Molly, dressed in a magnificent ball gown fit for a princess, glided in, flanked by Ian and Sean.

She blushed and hid behind Sean, feigning shyness, as if overwhelmed by the scene.

I watched her, a cold amusement rising in me.

If she was truly uncomfortable, would she have worn something so ostentatious? Would she have made such a grand entrance?

Molly spotted me and hurried over, grasping my hand. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Leah, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with false contrition. “I know Dad threw this party just for you, but…”

She shot a look at the two towering men beside her, a mix of shy blame and affection. “They insisted I come. They said since it’s my birthday too, I’m a guest of honor…”

She clung to my arm, her words overflowing with apology and helplessness, as if terrified I might be upset. But I saw it clearly—the triumphant glint in her eyes.

I let out a quiet, mirthless laugh. I had no energy to play along with her charade. I pulled my hand away without a word.

That simple gesture seemed to ignite their fury. In the eyes of Ian and Sean, it was a declaration of war.

Sean immediately stepped in front of a teary-eyed Molly, shielding her as if from a physical blow.

Ian’s brow furrowed, his gaze landing on me, heavy with disappointment. “Leah, how could a few years abroad make you so selfish?”

I looked at the two brothers, their faces set in hostile lines, and a profound weariness washed over me.

To be publicly reprimanded at my own birthday party, simply for not responding to Molly’s act. I had endured this, in one form or another, countless times over the past year.

I had argued. I had cried. I had pleaded. Nothing could win back a single kind glance from Ian or Sean.

Now, I was just tired. I didn't want to fight anymore. I turned to leave.

But Ian’s hand shot out, his fingers closing around my arm.

I looked at him, my exhaustion plain on my face.

For a split second, his grip faltered, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going? Apologize to Molly!” Sean, ever the hothead, snapped before Ian could speak.

I tried to pull my arm free, but his grip was like iron.

I understood then. Ian, the cool, calculating one, felt the same way.

The eyes of the room were on me, a mixture of pity and amusement. They all knew. The girl who was once the center of the Grant brothers’ world had lost everything. They were all waiting for the next act of my humiliation.

A smirk pulled at my lips. “Why should I apologize?”

“Molly grew up an orphan,” Ian said, his tone one of patient reason, as if explaining a simple concept to a child. “She never had a real birthday until your father adopted her. She’s never been to a party this grand. You’ve had parties like this your entire life. Is it really so hard to share just one with her?”

His words were like little shards of glass embedding themselves in my heart.

An orphan? They actually believed Julian’s ridiculous cover story!

Molly wasn't adopted. She was my half-sister, born to my father’s mistress less than a year after I was.

The tension in the room was suffocating. Just as the whispers and mocking glances reached their peak, Julian finally made his appearance, rushing over to play peacemaker.

“Ah, Ian, Sean! No need for all this!” he said, clapping them on the shoulders with sickening familiarity. “Molly is such a sensible girl. I was already planning to celebrate her birthday tonight as well!”

He then turned to me, his voice taking on a tone of gentle chiding. “Leah! You need to stop being so willful. Molly is your sister, after all!”

His words were earnest, but his meaning was clear: I was the selfish, spoiled heiress, and Molly was the blameless victim.

The hypocrisy made me nauseous. I scanned the faces around me—my duplicitous father, my treacherous friends, his innocent-looking mistress’s daughter—and felt a wave of pathetic irony wash over me.

With a final surge of strength, I ripped my arm from Ian’s grasp.

“Fine. If you all want it so badly, then this party is for her. Let the entire night be for Molly Ashton.”

If it’s for her, I thought with a bitter twist in my gut, at least she won’t have to spend the night poisoning herself with alcohol to please potential business partners.

I laughed at my own dark humor and walked towards the exit without a backward glance.