I NEVER FULLY REALIZED THE utmost capacity of how angry you can get.
This fueling rage in me couldn't be tamed down. It was so wild that I could feel it overtaking me, holding control over my own head and body. I don't struggle, letting this feeling eat and swallow me. This feeling and I wanted to destroy everything here.
Am I Izzy Adams? Izzy Sun Lively? Izzy Li? Izzy Kong? What the hell am I? What the hell happened to me?
Pretty easy and simple: Maeve threw me away like a piece of trash.
I grabbed up the lamp next to me on the desk, about to throw it across the room, when my eyes skimmed down to Rosalie.
She was staring at me, hyperventilating kind of, and laughing at the same time. I glared at her, angry tears filling my eyes.
"What's so damn funny?"
"Everything," she said, laughing harder.
"Stop laughing."
She kept laughing.
"Stop it," I wanted to punch her in the face nice and hard for the first time since she came into my life and fetched me out of the steady pace of it. She fetched me out of it just for this? For me to find out that, yes, I did have a birth mother and father, but the most ultimate famous actress, Maeve Sun Lively, threw me away and tore me from the family and love I could have had.
I had spent almost every day of my life thinking that my birth parents didn't want me. But this whole time, Maeve was the one under all of it. I was so foolish for not having seen it coming sooner.
And now...now...the two people that mattered and that I didn't know were related to me are both dead.
Even the one who committed the crime is dead.
Everyone is fucking dead.
I lowered the lamp, letting angry tears run down my face. I fell below to the floor next to Rosalie, crying beside her.
I'm so weak. I hate it. I wish I got to know them. I only knew all of them through the screen and TV. I admired each of them at one point in my life. Even Maeve. She, out of everyone, I had idolized the most.
"I'm never forgiving her," I said out loud, both for Rosalie and I to hear. I hold the recorder that has run itself out, my grip on it so tight my knuckles turn white. I want to break it. I want to destroy everything she left behind in that box. But I find that I...somehow can't. I feel madder at myself for not being able to even be mad and angry the correct way. Why can't I just break the damn thing?
Rosalie, I turned to look beside me, who had been laughing just a few seconds ago was now crying at the same time. The two actions look too alike; she might as well be doing both.
"So this is what you and Carlise have been hiding from me this entire time." I confronted her, eyes squinted, but the person in front of me, I realize, doesn't care anymore. She looks like she doesn't care about anything in fact.
Like I said nothing, she starts to fidget with her fingers, long red hair that is so perfect anyone in the world would admire falling over her body as she hugged her legs to her chest.
"She didn't die of old age."
I looked at her, my chest still heaving up and down from being so angry. "What are you saying?"
Her eyes were glassy and filled with a sadness so spaced I can't comprehend.
"Maeve. Maeve didn't die of old age. She overdosed."
I blinked, staring. Then, I look away from her to gape at the carpet beneath me. Maeve killed herself? Just weeks ago, she had killed herself?
My anger slowly withers away and I just feel confused and...pity.
"I don't know why I did it," Rosalie choked out a small laugh, taking up the bourbon bottle next to her and gulping from it. She exhaled in neither pleasure or ease when she swallowed. "Why I covered for her."
"She told you to hide for her?" I mean, obviously after all the recordings I heard of Maeve, she was a person for fake news and hiding. It wouldn't be a total shocker.
To my surprise though, Rosalie shook her head. "No, I just...it seemed to be instinct of some sort. When I found her body, the notes and the recordings she left, everything was like..." She raised her hands to make a gesture, but it didn't mean anything. She took another swift gulp of the bottle. Exhaled. "So much. I just started cleaning up the evidence, dumping the bottles, until when I called the people and told them it must've been old age."
"But what about the examination that would have happened for the body?"
She shook her head, glancing at me and smiling. "Ah, that. After all, you and I don't live in the same world. That part was taken care of easily."
I felt no energy to ask her how she did it. I turned away from her and stared at the floor.
"You're wondering why right now, right?"
I didn't look at her, but either way she could read me more easily than I could ever know what went on in her head.
"Why she killed herself. Why she did everything the way she did. Why she adopted me. Just why to...why to Maeve herself."
Bam. She said everything I wondered and more. Everything.
She flopped down on her back, as if the carpet under us wasn't itchy against the bare skin. She takes big gulps of the drink again. "I guess I won't see you again after this. It's obvious enough that you won't write her story. Or even finish hearing it."
And she was right about that too, as I began to get up. I don't want to do this anymore. I feel as if I don't have the energy left in me. All of this, the answers I've wanted for so long; they enraged me. But at the same time, I found this comfort in it. I don't want to acknowledge this comfort.
I want to leave.
As if reading my thoughts, Rosalie looked up at me from where I stood above her laying body. She gave me a sincere smile, the best she could offer.
"I booked a plane ticket for you leaving tomorrow already."
Rosalie was beautiful, I knew that much, but seeing her now, it was a beauty that was kind and not cold. She was an affectionate person deep down. But this kindness was so buried that you had to take a look so hard at her until you feel exhausted yourself. I wonder why she goes to these extreme lengths to hide this good part of her.
"Good luck with your life, Izzy. It's good that you're not like me."
I couldn't help my curiosity. "What are you going to do after this?"
She sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "You shouldn't worry about me. I'm not worth the trouble. I'm..." I wanted to reach down and help her, but I held in that urge, watching free tears stream down both her cheeks. "I'm like her. I'm raised by her after all. There's no more hope for me left now that Carlise has left me too."
I watched her as she laid there, not knowing if I should follow my head or my heart.
"I deserve it," Rosalie said, her eyes so far away in a distance, like she is going over a memory. A memory I have no intel on and never will. "I was never worth the time for anyone, but Carlise had taken hers and slowed down for me when no one else did. And now I've pushed her away because I'm a coward. Just like Maeve."
I inhaled a sharp, staggering breath, all my anger faded now except for the feeling of wanting to lay down again next to her. Carlise was right. Rosalie and I were more in common than we thought. Even if the connection was only there because of Maeve.
"She's not coming back."
At that final sentence, she tilted her head away from the ceiling and at me. She grinned, but it was forced, the grin for the public to show that she was the bright, successful, rich, Rosalie Sun Lively.
"Goodbye, Izzy. I wish you the best."
"You too, Rosalie." I turned away before my body did anything foolish for her that would make me regret.
—————
Even though I had spent weeks here, I barely went out and took a good look around Beijing. Since it's my last day here (or afternoon), I decided to clear my thoughts by walking around the neighborhood.
It had begun to rain and drizzle, making the hot summer weather slightly cooler; a calmer temperature to walk in.
To think that Maeve and my birth parents to have once lived here in this compound didn't shake me as it once had. They don't feel so far away or like celebrities anymore. They just feel like...people. People who I never got to truly know. People who made a bunch of wrong choices that have led to this.
I checked my phone for the plane ticket information Rosalie had texted me. By tomorrow morning I'll be long gone from Beijing and back to my tiny apartment in LA. Wait, never mind that. My apartment, I mean, my landlord's apartment, isn't mine to live in anymore. I was kicked out for this opportunity to write Maeve's story.
The one I'm not going to write or finish hearing.
What will I do from here? Continue that pathetic life as a paparazzi? It seems so. But for now, everything seems slightly better than thinking about where I came from. About Maeve's life and truths. About my truths.
I call Max up, even if it's still a time for sleep from where he is. Walking in the rain and breathing in the dampness of the air from the drizzle, I wait three rings until he picks up.
"Izzy, do you have a sense of time?" I open my mouth to answer but he adds at the last moment: "What am I asking? Clearly you don't because it's three a.m.."
"I'm sorry for waking you up."
"Izzy," his voice softened instantly. "What's wrong? I can hear the troublesome tone in you from a mile away."
I stopped walking, now that in front of me was the tree Carlise last showed me when we walked around. It's the tree her father and my birth parents and Maeve had planted when they first moved here. Is it even right to call Klarise and Cameron my birth parents so casually like this?
I touch my hand on the rough bark, leaning my head against it to find the comfort that I seek.
"Izzy? You still there?"
"Yeah."
"Honey, I'm Max Tom, your coworker, your mentor, your upperclassman. But I am also your best friend. I'm worried about you. You went AWOL for three weeks, asking me to move your things to my place because your landlord might kick them out. Which, sorry to mention, they totally did kick everything out." Ugh, another problem on my mind now. No home to go back to. "Where the heck have you even been? Mr. Reed is all yells and blames with you recently too. He's threatening to fire you if you don't call him back."
If only Mr. Reed knew I have so many strings and connections to Rosalie now that writing a damn article about her and getting pictures of her taken won't be hard at all.
"Izzy, I swear to the life of my boyfriend that if you don't tell me what's going on with you I will track you down with my FBI friend and fetch your ass to the moon."
I lifted my face up from the tree trunk, the faintest smile displayed on my face. "You don't have a boyfriend or a FBI friend though."
"That is irrelevant! You get my point." He cleared his throat, acting sarcastically serious. "And also, for the record, if we mention my singleness one more time I will actually tear you to shreds."
I laughed, whether tears of joy or relief cornering my eyes. "You complain about not having a boyfriend but it's because you're way too picky. Don't lie to me. I've seen multiple guys flirt with you and you'd give them your classic head-to-toe look and reject them."
"You win, Izzy Adams. I can't argue with you."
The drizzling has stopped, and I found that after this talk with him, I wanted to spill everything.
"You said you're my best friend, Max?"
"Pinky swear."
"You better not be lying with me."
I can almost see his imaginary cross the heart swear through the phone. "I swear on my non-existence boyfriend."
"So you swear on air?" I teased, delaying what was going to pour out soon.
"I said I will tear you to shreds if you mention that again."
I laughed, and then, before any warning from my own body, I burst out into tears.
I began telling him about how my mom called me back home three weeks ago while I was writing that article Mr. Reed assigned me. From there, I told him about finding out Maeve was my supposed birth mother all the way till now, as I sit under this tall fifty year old tree that was illegally planted. Who outlived all the people—except Jackson, or should I call my uncle now?—that had planted it. And of course, I told him about my all-time favorite singer Klarise being my actual my mother and the famous sweetheart Cameron Li being my real father. But Max seemed to be more fixated on the fact that the most famous and billionaire actress Maeve Sun Lively plotted—and I quote from him word for word, "Evilly"—against a child who was one week old (aka me).
"I'm sorry!" Max protested, even though I knew he was doing this to make me laugh and lighten the situation. And it's totally working, because I can't help but smile through my tears. "Maeve Sun Lively literally plotted against you! You were a week old! Damn, if this isn't the life time bedtime story of my life, I don't know what is."
"Uhm, reminder: my life is not a bedtime story."
"Sorry. But you get the idea."
"Yeah, the idea that my origin was crazy and I don't want to be a part of it. I just want to go home right now."
"So your step-sister ordered your plane ticket for tomorrow?"
I rolled my eyes, my tears drying up against my cheeks. "Can you please not call Rosalie that? My birth mother is Klarise Kong, not Maeve. We don't share a mother."
"Fine," he said reluctantly, so I knew he'd keep calling Rosalie my sister or step-sister anyway in the future. I was beginning to doubt if it was the right choice to have told him everything. Now he'll bring up every single detail I don't want to hear about whenever we meet. "Then what about your cousin, Carlise Kong? You said she left somewhere?"
I couldn't tell him to not call Carlise my cousin, because I suppose it's correct. We share the same blood after all. Hold on...now, thinking about Carlise, she did sound like she left while being really mad. But about what?
"Hold up, Max. I feel like I should tell Carlise about how I'm leaving. Except I don't have her number."
While I thought about how to get Carlise's number or just get word to her about me not doing any of this anymore, Max blabbered on about how it was such a pity that I was not going to finish Maeve's story. Mostly, he was just curious about what the tea and drama was really all about and he's still bugging at me about telling him what actually went on in those recordings (I didn't tell him the details because, come on? How long would that take?) when I realized; so simple really, that I can just ask Rosalie for Carlise's number. I may be leaving and untangling myself out of this mess, but the idea of keeping some contact with Carlise didn't seem half bad.
I checked the time. It's been about an hour since I've taken this walk. Rosalie is probably still in the study, either having passed out or drinking.
"Max, I'll call you back later. I need to go do something real quick."
"What? But you didn't even tell me more about how Maeve was never in love with Cameron Li and was Klarise's lover this whole time! Which, by the way, Cameron was like so hot I can't believe you're his descendant and that I never realized how hot you are too until now. Anyways, Izzy! You can't leave me on a cliffhanger like this! And also, what about that thing about her parents not really being her parents and how she ran away and—"
"Max."
"Ugh, fine. I suppose I can ask you a million times once you're back."
I sighed, already thinking about how many questions he'll have for me. And there's a very likelihood that I might be crashing at his place when I'm back in LA. "I am so grateful for your nosy ass letting me go. Goodbye."
"Hey, what did you—"
I laughed, picking up my umbrella and running back to the penthouse.
—————
Instead of heading straight for the study, since there was no rush and I was soaked completely wet (my umbrella ended up flying away, I know, dramatic, but it did), I decided to take a shower.
While drying my hair, my mind unwillingly went over the crazy events that happened these past three weeks. And believe it or not, I think I might remember the days I've spent here forever. Rosalie had warned me about the truth being ugly, and yet I paid no attention to that and wanted things my way. I ignored my parents, making them feel bad, which, I think they are still sad about the way I left. I have been completely horrible over finding out more about myself. I hurt my parents, I left Max worried, and now that I've finally gotten what I wanted, it didn't seem worth the people I troubled.
I fixed up my bangs last moment, taking a long look at myself in the mirror. A girl who doesn't look thirty-eight but rather twenty-five stares back at me (asian genes work funny). Now that I know the truth, I can see the bits of resemblance of Klarise and Cameron in me. The hair color that's a deep jet black and thick from Cameron, and the small button nose from Klarise. My lips have a hint of something that, as I give a smile to myself to see how it looks, gives me the vibes of Cameron Li's trademark smirk. For the first time in my life, maybe, I've stopped to take a good look at myself and realized how maybe the answer and truth was in front of me the whole time if only I took a leap of wider assumption at it. Still, I don't expect myself to have just randomly claimed to be Klarise and Cameron's daughter without any proof other than how I have some of their features.
Now though, the brown eyes staring back at me, the facial structure and bones, despite the pale skin I've always carried which looks a lot like Klarise's; I can't shake the resemblance that shows the greatest on my physical appearance, overlapping all of Klarise's and Cameron's possible genes.
I look a lot like Maeve.
I know in the recordings, when me, "Isabella", was first born, she said I looked like her. But I didn't expect any of it to count, since Maeve must have been biased and so was my birth mother, Klarise. And of course, Maeve has no blood relation to me at all.
Yet here I am, staring at a sudden beautiful me with half-dried hair and bangs lurking over her eyebrows. And she just happens to look like the person who threw her away more than her own birth parents.
I felt irritated, annoyed. Sure, I look prettier because I lean more toward Maeve (who I shall add again is not blood related to me at all), but to see a great resemblance of someone who made my life the way it is everyday is going to be a great pain.
There was an angry urge to lift up my fist and punch the mirror, shattering it, something you'd see in movies. But a sudden ringtone text message from my phone quickly pulls me back to reality. I'm glad it did.
Max: Are you done yet? You literally woke me up at 3 a.m. to tell me a crazy bunch of drama to last my whole life and now you won't tell me anymore? I. Am. Waiting!!
I roll my eyes, sending back a quick text to tell him to go back to sleep.
Not bothering to finish up my hair, I take off the robe I am wearing and throw on the clothes nearest to me on bed. I groaned in annoyance, realizing that after getting Carlise's number, I had to start packing my suitcase. Couldn't Rosalie have at least given me two days to pack and bought the ticket a day later?
I walked toward the direction of the study, while fumbling with the disabling notifications button on my phone because Max was over spamming and it was too problematic for both my mental and physical state.
When I finally looked up, Rosalie was laying on the floor with her back facing me, her body on the itchy carpet to your skin even if it was probably more than two thousand bucks. I wonder why Maeve or whoever that bought it would spend so much money on a carpet like that.
Seeing the empty bottle of bourbon on the floor next to her, I realize she must have passed out drinking. And now, unable to ask her for Carlise's number, I need to tend to her until she wakes up again. Great.
Despite my irritation that kept building up as the tasks that needed to be done increased, the tender kindness that took over my heart and head was there as I walked closer to Rosalie, prepared to lift her up and sit her on the sofa instead of the rough carpet.
"Rosalie, you got to stop making everything so damn hard," I muttered as I came closer, getting out a tissue from my pocket to wipe the drool near her mouth that I am expecting.
My breath catches when I see her face.
"Oh, my, god."
This cannot be happening.
Rosalie's eyelids are half open, her face a pale sick yellow color. A pile of liquid substance is piled near her mouth and on the floor. The fluid stank, but what I am freaking out most about is seeing the bottle of empty container in her hand that she still grasped onto. I snatch it out of her hand before my mind can process anything else, reading what said on the now empty bottle.
Benzodiazepines. Benzos. From little of my knowledge, they're used to calm or sedate someone. The prescription on the bottle is prescribed to Maeve, not Rosalie. And under that it says to take one pill daily and no more.
But now this bottle is empty. How many pills had been in this bottle? How many did Rosalie take?
I glance back at Rosalie, checking her pulse. It's still there. I gasp in relief. But that relief doesn't stay for long when I realize her breathing is getting fainter and fainter by the moment.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She fucking overdosed?
Tears spring through my eyes as I searched the number to call for an ambulance here in Beijing. There was no 911 and I didn't know which number it was.
Rosalie's glassy eyes stared at me as I called the number for 911 here. Fuck again. I don't know any mandarin.
Hoping for the best, I start speaking in English, panicking. The woman on the line switches to a translator who knows what I am saying.
I set the phone down, the world spinning and my body that was tough and calm moments ago are now beginning the slightest trembling.
I crawl back to Rosalie, ignoring the fluid and things she had barfed out, and lift up her face in my hands.
She has the barest movement. She isn't going to stay here long.
"Stay with me, Rosalie, stay with me. The ambulances are coming."
All problems are thrown aside. The only thing that has overtaken my mind now is to save Rosalie. But she looks too much like she is going to join my birth parents and Maeve soon.
I sit uselessly next to her, waiting and waiting, the short minutes feeling like eternity.
The ambulances and helpers finally arrived. I started crying, but never leaving her side even when the nurses tried to pull me aside and help me.
I realize there, right there, as the people helped her and began to lift her out and down this penthouse and apartment, that I care about Rosalie more than I knew.
I may not have gotten to know my birth parents or Maeve, but Rosalie's still here. I want to get to know her. I want to help her. I want to be the proper sister we should be even if we aren't on paper or by blood.
And so because of that, I cannot let Rosalie die.