Wanting My Step-Daddy

IVY

I hate this.

I hated this so much. The fake smiles, hypocritical chatter, the snide glances people threw over their shoulders when they thought no one was watching-it all crawled under my skin. Everything here grated at my nerves, boiling my anger. I shouldn't have been there. I didn't even know why I had let my mother talk me into coming.

Yes, my mother-Clarissa Hart. One of the most revered women in modern high society. After the tragic fallout with my late father, she rebranded herself as a philanthropist. She advocated for orphans and widows, using her personal tragedy as a stepping stone to fame. At least, that was the story she told the world.

She stood now with a group of well-dressed people, having what I would assume to be a conversation while sipping sparkling champagne. Except it's not. That clique are like a group of vultures ready to devour each other at the slightest chance. I wonder why she's still with them. A bunch of rich hyprocites. Throwing a glance over my shoulders, I notice the group of men who are standing together and are pointedly staring at me, perhaps wondering who I am.

I scoffed, completely ignoring them and focusing on the glass of wine in my hands. Twirling it slightly, I take a sip and look around, disgruntled. I should probably get out of here, but my mother won't let me hear the end of it, especially since I've been avoiding her ever since I touched down in Vegas.

Finally, she slips away from the group, sashaying her way towards my table, her bleached blonde hair flying around. She smile she put on for other guests drops slightly the moment she laid her eyes on me and I clenched my jaw, looking away. Most daughters would be happy to see their mother after years of being away. I am not.

"For a moment there, I thought you won't be coming. I looked everywhere for you." She says as she sat next to me, her honey-gold eyes filled with barely concealed malice. Clarissa Hart was a very beautiful woman who had kept up with her appearance with various cosmetic modifications. So even though she was advanced in age, she didn't look a day over twenty-five. It was sickening to see.

"Did you really? I remember sending you a text that I would arrive late." I muttered, picking out my phone and checking the message. "You haven't read it yet."

"As you can see, I've been busy talking with guests. I didn't expect this amount of crowd tonight." She said as she looked around, throwing a few smiles here and there. I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"Cut to the chase mother, why did you drag me all the way from New York? I was doing perfectly fine there."

"Drowning in debt and being chased by the paparazzi with your recent scandal with a married actor? Of course, you were doing fine." She seethed and my face flushed