my father's only bride, My heart only girl

--- ### *Chapter One: Happy Birthday, Girl* _Karen Abee POV_ _A/N: EDITED 04/04/26 - Added the spiked drink + hotel cliffhanger! No plot changes, just more tension. Tell me who you think was at the door!!_ #### _Battersea, 9:03 AM_ I slept till 9am because it was my off day. Thank God for retail jobs and a manager who actually lets you breathe. My phone screamed before my brain did. “Happy birthday, you broke but gorgeous menace!” Lilian’s voice could shatter glass at this hour. "Aargh Lilian, you are such a jerk I hissed into my pillow. “You could’ve surprised me with cupcakes. Or ice cream. Not this empty noise you came up with.” She cackled. “Babe, save your complaints. Matt has a bigger surprise for you.” Matt. Her boyfriend. The one with the car and the job that pays more than tips and minimum wage. " you got me cakes, vanilla flavor?"I smiled, My eyes popped out but Lilian sighed. "C'mon, must you be a glutton." “What, you got me a pound coin?” I mumbled, pulling my duvet tighter. “Better. He got us tickets.” She paused like she was on a gameshow. “For Wesley’s concert. Tonight.” I sat up so fast my head spun. Wesley. Wesley Whitshire. Chelsea billionaire heir. Kensington’s favorite ghost with a guitar. My celebrity crush since I was 16 and he dropped that acoustic cover in a white tee. “Shut Up.” My voice came out a whisper. “You’re lying.” “Matt’s picking us up at 7. Don’t be late, birthday girl.” I hung up and stared at my ceiling. The peeling paint, the c***k in the corner, the fairy lights Lilian helped me hang last year. Battersea. Not Kensington. Not Chelsea. Battersea. My flatshare was above a laundrette on Battersea Park Road. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, three girls, and a fridge that made sounds like a dying cat. My room was the box room. But the window looked out over the Thames. If I stood on my tiptoes, I could see the lights of Chelsea Embankment across the water. Wesley’s world. Not mine. #### _7:02 PM. Battersea Park Road._ Matt’s Audi pulled up. Lilian tumbled out. “You look hot! Birthday skirt! I love it.” “The dress” was black midi from Primark that looked expensive if you ironed it. Cream knit top. Black cardigan. Silver hoops borrowed from Lilian. Moderate. Clean. Not trying too hard. Just me, on a good day. We drove toward Kensington. The streets got wider. The buildings got taller. #### _The Venue: The Kensington Hotel, Exhibition Road, 8:55 PM_ It wasn’t a stadium. It was a hotel ballroom. Gold and red velvet. Chandeliers. 300 people who could afford £200 tickets. When we got in, Wesley wasn't there yet. But soon after, three cars strolled in,two white McLaren one in the front and one behind then a black Aston Martin in the middle Like a shadow with bodyguards. The crowd surged people struggling for a glance, for a selfie. I saw him from afar, more handsome than what cameras pictured him to be. I was at the front barrier when a shove came from the left. My ankle twisted. I was going down. An arm shot out. Strong. Warm. Caught my waist and yanked me up against a chest that smelled like cedar. I looked up. Wesley Whitshire. Closer than any screen. Dark hair. Storm-cloud eyes. Black everything. He didn’t let go right away. “Careful,” he said. Low. Rough. “You’ll get trampled, birthday girl.” My brain short-circuited. “H-How did you—” Lilian must’ve screamed it. He remembered. My face went red, I smiled sheepishly. "Can I......." I shoved my phone right in front of him then he smiled and took it, taking a double selfie A security guy shoved a pen into my hand. He signed my cardigan sleeve in silver ink. _W.H._ Then he was gone. I felt elated that I ran in without my friends There was a gunshot blown in the air,a sign that the dark stars were on stage,then the piano played then I saw his eyes on me. He winked an gave a sweet smile. He looked at me twice during _If You Were Mine_. "It felt as though the song was mine. As soon as he stopped, my mind did something stupid,it felt the song was mine so I was able to go up stage but someone was faster, Clarissa, his on and off girlfriend, the girl within his society class, I felt belittled instantly. Then Clarissa kissed him on stage Lilian finally found me "C'mon girl,say that face for something else, let's go chill somewhere" By 11pm we were heading to the bar. My head felt heavy. “Drink?” A guy in a black cap appeared. I didn’t know him. He pressed a pink fizzy drink into my hand. “Complimentary. For the birthday girl.” Lilian was distracted. Matt was on the phone. One sip. Tasted like elderflower and something bitter. “Karen?” Lilian’s voice sounded far away. “The lights are too bright,” I mumbled. The floor felt far away. That was the last thing I remembered. #### _9:14 AM. I don’t know where I am._ Sunlight on my face. Silk under my hands. Not my £600 Battersea duvet. Gold ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Kensington skyline. Panic shot through me. I sat up. Head spun. Foggy. Like I’d slept for a year. Last thing I remembered: the bar. The drink. Wesley on stage. Then nothing. “...Lilian?” No answer. Water on the nightstand. And a folded note under the glass. > _Rest well._ > " Who could it be?" I stood. Legs shaky. I got down, Walk-in closet. Men’s suits. And on the end, laid out: A dress. Black. Silk. Simple. It fit me in the mirror like it was tailored. No tag. No name. I put it on. It smelled like cedar. Too careful. Too expensive. On the dresser: a framed photo. _Dark Stars._ Lead singer: Wesley Whitshire. Arms crossed. Same eyes from last night. My phone buzzed. 47 missed calls. All Lilian. _Last text: WHERE ARE YOU??? I’M CALLING THE POLICE_ I didn’t go home. Someone spiked my drink. Someone brought me here. And the only thing I have is a note that says _Rest well_ from a billionaire I don’t remember meeting. Outside the door, I heard footsteps. Stopping. A key card beeped. The door handle turned. --- *End of Chapter 1* _A/N: 😭😭 COMMENT: WHO’S AT THE DOOR?? WESLEY?? HOTEL STAFF?? SOMEONE WORSE?? VOTE IF YOU’RE SCREAMING_ --pls add to your reading list guys, I'd be updating daily