When the Good Girl Sin

POPPY My hands were sweating; I had waited so long for this day. One week before this day, I immediately had a red bodycon dress customized that perfectly hugs my curves, and it's long, reaching the top of my feet. It also has slits that go up to my upper legs, and I paired it with my favorite maroon shoes. I let my hair down, just my natural chocolate brown hair with wavy curls. As for my makeup, I only used light makeup. I wanted this raw version of myself. I want him to see the raw me. Since Alex told me he had something important to tell me and asked me to meet him at the top restaurant of his family's hotel—the Dolphin Bay Hotel—I have this feeling that this is probably the day I've been waiting for. The day I will be free from my family. The day that even if there's a new chain that will disguise itself as marriage on my hands, I would still prefer it over being the daughter of a Marilyn and George Lake. Anything, any cage, just not them. I don't want to come across as ungrateful and spoiled. Believe me, I am far from being ungrateful and spoiled. Why? Can you call it ungrateful if, since I was just seven years old, I was pressured to follow in the footsteps of the one and only Hollywood actress, Marilyn Schneider? "You have to audition here, you have to audition there." Thousands of commercials, thousands of movies, and TV series. Marilyn was always shoving down my throat what to wear, what to say, how to smile, how to cry, maybe even how to breathe. And I always followed. There were times when I just wanted to scream, "f**k off!" But I always ended up doing everything she wanted me to be. Because I am more than grateful. Spoiled? Yeah. I always hear those kinds of things about me. Imagine having to wake up in the morning only to be the headline of the news: "Penelope Lake: Truly a brat and a diva on the set of her new movie with Arnold Fauzner? Her being a nepo baby is apparently showing." All I can do is roll my eyes. Is there nothing more important to report on TV news, in newspapers, than me? Can't they talk about the rising crime rates in the country, the wars happening all over the world, hunger, or even the corrupt government? Really? Me? "Nepo baby"—Marilyn, whom I much prefer to call by her first name since she's never wanted me to call her Mom "Makes me feel old," in her own words. She's been an actress for decades. Just like her, Nana, her mom, was also an actress. So, it pretty much sums up the career path—just passing down the crowns. She married a rich man—George Lake, my Father, who prefers that I call him "Sir." Yeah, I do have odd parents. Weird. My father is the CEO of Hollywood's top talent agencies. He manages almost all the big and shining stars out there. And that includes me. That's why, when Marilyn pushed me to pursue a Hollywood career, even though I wasn't interested, no one was there to counter her decision for me. Because my Father wanted me to become the next big star, just like his wife. It boosted his pride, his ego. Having married the one and only Marilyn Schneider. And now, being the father of this generation's superstar. Yep, that's me. That's what they call me. For eighteen years, I haven't been able to make a single decision for myself. For eighteen years, I've been an obedient puppet for them—the people who call themselves my parents. We really did a great job of painting ourselves as the perfect American family. But we're not. At least, not behind closed doors. So, back to Alex. He has been my boyfriend for five years. Alex Sterling—an actor. We started as teenage loveteams, until it developed into something real behind the cameras. Alex is sweet, caring, and understanding... until he wasn't. But I don't care. As long as he can promise me that he can remove my parents' guardianship over me, then I can be free. Don't get me wrong, I love Alex. He is the first man who has given me love. At least, the love that I know. As I entered the restaurant, a waiter who was clearly expecting me immediately greeted me and offered to guide me to where Alex was waiting. I could sense that all eyes were on me. Of course, they know me. And everyone has known about Alex and my relationship for ages. I spotted Alex quickly; his eyes were downcast, his head low. I could almost feel his ragged breathing from where I stood. There were no red roses on the table—which was odd, because every time we went on a date, I always had one. Alex seemed off. As I approached Alex, the waiter gracefully adjusted the chair for me to sit down. Alex was now looking at me and swallowed hard. "Here's the menu, Sir." The waiter handed one to me and one to Alex. Alex smiled at him. "We'll just call you when we're ready to order. Could you please prepare another wine?" Alex handed over an empty wine bottle. "Hey—are you sure you want another bottle? You finished this already," I chuckled nervously, "by yourself." Alex's smile faltered, and he took a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "Can you please just give us a glass of water?" I instructed the waiter. "Thanks," and he left. Alex looked down again—he seemed nervous, and that made me nervous too. "Alex, what's going on?" I finally asked him. He looked at me and smiled, then his gaze fell on the purple bruise around my neck—and he avoided eye contact. I'm pretty sure he remembered the night he gave me these bruises. Even though I told him it was an accident, that he didn't mean to do it. So, I subtly covered it with my hair. Yes, maybe this is one of the reasons why I chose to let my hair down tonight—to hide the bruises that felt like a necklace around my neck. Alex hold my hand, still avoiding eye contact. "You know how much I love you, Penelope, right?" he asked. I nodded, a knot of unease tightening in my chest. Why didn't this feel like the night I had been looking forward to, the night I had been hoping for? "Alex, what's going on? You're making me nervous," I told him, my voice barely a whisper. "I want to break up with you, Pen," he said. Just straight forward. Cold and distant, as if he had rehearsed those words countless times. "What?" He sighed and let go of my hand. "I want to end this, Penelope." "Is it because of what happened last week?" I pressed. Maybe he was still guilty about what he did to me that night? But if he was guilty, why now? Why not after it happened the first time, the second time, the third time, until I lost count? What was different about that night that made him feel guilty now? "What we have is not something I want for the rest of my life, Pen." He looked me straight in the eyes, his gaze unwavering. "I love you because I've grown accustomed to you being there. I love you because I needed you. Not because I love you for who you truly are." A bitter laugh escaped my lips, and I fixed my gaze on anything but him. "f**k you, Alex." "And I needed to tell you this before you heard it on the news." If I thought his speech to dagger my heart was over, it wasn't. "I am in a relationship with Erika Delacroix." "What the f**k, Alex?" This time I shot up from my seat, oblivious to the eyes now fixed on us. "Calm down, Pen," Alex muttered under his breath. I sat back down, trying to steady my nerves from what I had just heard. "You cheated on me with Erika Delacroix?" He didn't answer. "Since when?" I pressed. "For several months now." He says. Why did I even ask? He had been fooling me, cheating on me for several months now. Where were the paparazzi when I needed them to expose this f*****g cheater? "f**k, Alex. Out of all people, why Erika?" Of course, because he is an asshole. "I met Erika after your fight in Bali. I went to apologize to her after the news broke out," he explained. "Why would you apologize to her if she was the reason we fought in Bali? f**k, Alex, she insulted my PA, and you know me, I'm not just going to stand there and let her insult my people." I gritted my teeth at him. "Actually, Pen, I don't care about the reason for your argument back then. I care about her. I like her." This time my tears fell, and I laughed bitterly. "And here I was, hoping that today would be the day you'd propose to me, Alex." I wiped my tears and looked at him. "You were my only hope for freedom. You were the only one I was counting on. Then you f*****g failed me too, Alex. I accepted that sometimes—" I stopped, pointed a finger at him, and shook my head. "No, often you have anger issues. Even when you hurt me physically, I gaslighted myself into believing it was because of me." I sobbed. "It's not fair to me either that you would only marry me just because you want your parents out of your life, Penelope." I couldn't bear to listen to him anymore. I stood up, my chair screeching against the floor. "Goodbye, Alex." And I left him in that f*****g restaurant. I knew that tomorrow, the news would break out about me crying in the middle of the restaurant because of Alex Sterling. Some people would surely be angry at him, would bash him because he cheated, but that would be forgotten after a few weeks. But for me, having my broken heart headline the news as if they were celebrating my pain, is just too much, even for me. As I got into my car, my driver, Tommy, immediately noticed that I wasn't okay. "Do you want to go somewhere?" I nodded. "Can you please drive me to my penthouse? I just want to rest." "Your parents are expecting you home tonight," he reminded me, but without pressing the issue. I closed my eyes. "I'm sure they'll find out from the news tomorrow the reason why I won't have the face to show them tonight." Tommy sighed. "Your home it is." Then he started driving. The Peninsula—this is where my safe haven resides. My first property. My first owned property. Far from my parents' mansion. And that is precisely why I bought this place in the first place. As I went up to my penthouse, I was immediately greeted by darkness. My place was designed with a white and brown theme, a minimalist space. A place where I can properly breathe. I immediately dialed my best friend Demi's number. She answered right away, after just one ring. "Hey, soon-to-be Mrs. Sterling—" I sobbed at her greeting, unable to even speak. "Penny, what happened?" I could clearly hear loud music blasting on her line. She was in a bar. Living her best life. "Where are you?" I managed to ask her, my voice thick with tears. "I'm at Contraband. What happened? Are you okay? I'll come to you," she said, her voice laced with concern. "No—" I shook my head, even though she couldn't see me. "I'll come to you." Tonight, there will be no Penelope Lake, the dazzling star. Tonight, I will just be the girl who got dumped.