One Star Lights My Way

To marry into the Manhattan elite, I fabricated my entire existence. I scrubbed away the stench of being a degenerate gambler's son and molded myself into an Oxford-educated prodigy.

But even liars have real hearts. I shed my old skin for one reason alone. I wanted the right to stand beside Victoria Sinclair.

I finally breached the gates of high society. I touched the untouchable upper crust.

I thought if I worked hard enough, if I became elegant and refined enough, I could stay by her side forever.

That was until the always-composed Victoria Sinclair threw a physical fit over a high-school dropout who worked at a hostess club, nearly coming to blows with a major business partner.

She bled millions in lost contracts and didn't even blink.

To clean up her mess, I arranged a peace-making dinner with that partner. By pure chance, I heard a familiar voice drifting from the adjacent private dining room.

"Victoria, your Mr. Perfect is probably busy wiping your ass right now, isn't he? Tsk, what a devoted little housewife. Watching him try so hard to play the elite corporate shark just to smooth things over for you almost brings a tear to my eye."

"If you weren't trying to dodge your family's arranged marriage, there is no way you would have married a fraud like him."

"He's a street rat who crawled out of a trailer park. Did he really think putting on a bespoke suit and dropping a few French phrases would actually change his bloodline?"

A soft chuckle escaped Victoria's lips. It was dripping with mockery.

She knew. She knew I was faking it this whole time.

And she had been faking it, too.

Standing outside that mahogany door, my chest felt like it had been hollowed out with a shotgun blast.

"I heard his deadbeat dad just got out of prison. Want to make a bet? I give it three months before his old man comes knocking for cash. When that happens, our dear Kyle's painstakingly crafted elite persona is going to shatter into a million pieces."

"I give it one month." The voice belonged to Carter, Victoria's childhood friend. "The whole Oxford backstory was a nice touch, but you just can't hide that deep-rooted poverty. Have you seen the way he cuts his steak? He grips the knife like he's murdering a personal enemy, terrified his etiquette isn't textbook perfect. It is absolutely hilarious."

Victoria let out a low laugh. Her tone was completely indifferent.

"I bet on a year. His ego is massive. To protect his little lie, he will probably figure out a way to exile his father back to the rust belt. He won't let him show his face anytime soon."

She paused, letting out a soft sigh.

"When my mother tried to force me to marry that braindead heir from the Gallagher family, I obviously refused."

"Kyle just happened to serve himself up on a silver platter. He might be a peasant, but he is clever. I needed a clever pawn to distract my parents. With them constantly warring with him, they naturally didn't have the energy to micromanage me."

"Besides, watching him try so desperately to mimic old-money elegance every single day is actually quite entertaining."

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

Victoria had known from the very beginning.

All my late nights, all my grueling efforts, were nothing but a circus act for her amusement.

A chorus of laughter erupted inside the room.

Victoria suddenly hushed them.

Through the crack in the door, I saw a young boy.

He was curled up on the leather sofa behind them, fast asleep. He was draped in Victoria's custom-tailored trench coat.

He shifted slightly, and Victoria immediately ordered the room to silence.

"Keep it down. Do not wake him up. He pulled a double shift at the club last night. He is exhausted."

Carter clicked his tongue, teasing her.

"Come on, Victoria. He is a literal hillbilly. He's as unrefined as it gets. What do you even see in him?"

Victoria rested her chin on her hand, gazing quietly at the sleeping boy.

"Compared to Kyle's manufactured elegance, I prefer authenticity. A twenty-dollar thrift store shirt looks incredibly charming on him. He doesn't bow down, and he doesn't grovel. That is what attracts me."

Just as she spoke, the boy rolled over and woke up.

He rubbed his sleepy eyes and clumsily sat up.

"How did I fall asleep..."

He carefully handed the coat back to Victoria.

"Ms. Sinclair, thank you for covering my little brother's medical bills. I swear I will pay you back every single cent..."

"You do not need to pay me back."

"No, I have to. I refuse to owe anyone."

He bit his lower lip. His eyes were shining with a stubborn, fierce pride.

Victoria's lips curled into a smile. She tapped the tip of his nose.

It was a gesture full of absolute adoration.

"Alright, alright. I can never win an argument with you. How about this. Come work as my executive assistant. I will pay you ten thousand a month."

Oliver's eyes lit up.

"But I didn't even finish high school. I don't know the first thing about business..."

"Degrees do not matter. You are a smart boy. You will learn."

He hesitated for a second, then nodded eagerly.

My heart felt like it was being pierced by a sewing needle.

A sharp, radiating pain filled my chest.

That assistant position belonged to me.

The official job posting for her executive assistant strictly required a Master's degree from an Ivy League university.

My family background was a fabrication.

But my academic degrees were completely real.

To earn that position, I had prepared for years.

Victoria's company had a major branch in Paris. She traveled there constantly.

Terrified that she would find me unprofessional, I spent every waking hour mastering French and studying high-society etiquette.

I lived my entire life in transit between tutors and classes.

It turned out none of that mattered to her. Not in the slightest.

For the first time, I realized you didn't need to be brilliant to stand by her side.

Victoria gently ruffled the boy's hair.

"For my assistant, a high school education is more than enough."

Oliver smiled shyly.

Standing in the hallway, my hands and feet went completely numb. I could barely hold myself upright.

I dragged my hollow body back to my own private dining room.

The business partner was still trying to humiliate me.

He poured cheap vodka straight into a glass of expensive scotch.

"If Mr. Kyle downs this glass right now, whatever bad blood Ms. Sinclair and I have will be wiped clean."

He flashed me a sleazy, arrogant smirk.

Once, to secure a contract for Victoria, I drank until my stomach hemorrhaged. I nearly died on an operating table.

This time, I was done being a fool.

I took the glass from his hand and poured the liquor straight onto the carpet.

"Mr. Gallagher, you and Ms. Sinclair can settle your own disputes. I have other matters to attend to. Excuse me."

Like a walking corpse, I returned to the Sinclair estate.

My mother-in-law was sitting rigidly on the parlor sofa, her eyes closed in meditation.

Hearing the door open, she did not even bother to look up.

"Have you finalized the seating chart for tomorrow's charity luncheon with the foundation directors?"

"Also, for the family heritage gala next month, I had the butler email you the flight itineraries for the senior board members. Make sure you personally arrange their airport transfers."

"We allowed you to marry into the Sinclair family so you could maintain our public image. You must execute these duties flawlessly. Otherwise, what is the difference between marrying you and plucking a filthy illiterate beggar off the streets?"

A filthy beggar.

My chest throbbed again.

I stood quietly in the foyer. I didn't say a single word. I just turned and walked toward the grand staircase.

"Halt! Are you deaf? Or was your basic breeding fed to the dogs?"

I paused at the foot of the stairs. For the first time in five years, I did not turn around to face her.

"Find someone else to do it. I am tired."

Behind me, Eleanor unleashed a torrent of vicious insults, but I tuned them all out.

I slammed the bedroom door shut, sealing away the noise.

Memories flooded my mind. I suddenly remembered the very first time I laid eyes on Victoria Sinclair.

I was a broke college student working as a banquet waiter to pay my tuition.

It was my first time stepping into the glittering world of the ultra-rich. I was terrified. I was trembling.

I accidentally knocked over a guest's glass, spilling champagne all over their suit.

The man flew into a violent rage. He grabbed me by the throat, slammed me into the marble floor, and kicked me hard in the ribs.

I was shaking from the agonizing pain.

"You filthy street rat! Do you have any idea how much this suit costs? It is custom Italian couture! It costs seven figures! It is money a bottom-feeder like you couldn't earn in three lifetimes!"

I kneeled on the floor like a beaten dog, pressing my hands together, begging for forgiveness.

My face was bleeding from his slaps. The blood mixed with my tears, turning my vision red.

It was Victoria who stepped out of the crowd and saved me.

"It is just a piece of fabric. There is no need to torture the poor boy over it."

Her tone was light, effortless, almost bored.

The way her slender, beautiful fingers held the pen as she wrote a blank check for the man.

I still remember it vividly.

My heart pounded violently in my chest.

It was the first time I truly understood the crushing weight of class disparity.

I was a top-tier university student, yet just because I was born poor, they could grind me into the dirt like an insignificant ant.

But I refused to be an ant. I wanted to be the master of my own fate.

I wanted a beautiful life, and I wanted the woman standing in front of me.

In that moment, a twisted mixture of lust and ambition gave birth to an absurd, desperate plan.

I forged my origins. I spun a web of lies.

All just to earn a ticket into her world.

Just to stand as her equal.

I eventually made it happen.

But looking back now, I finally understood that I was nothing more than a game to Victoria.

She did not love my hard-earned brilliance. Yet she was completely captivated by a high-school dropout from a nightclub.

Just because he was authentic. Because he refused to bow down.

It was hilariously tragic.

I dialed my lawyer's number and instructed him to draft a divorce settlement.

I knew it was time to end this.

I lay in bed, tossing and turning in the dark.

It was nearly midnight when Victoria finally came home.

I heard Eleanor's muffled complaints from the living room before Victoria walked upstairs.

She carried the faint scent of sweet citrus. It must have been that boy's cologne.

She kicked off her heels and unbuttoned her blouse. "My mother said you gave her an attitude today. Go down and apologize to her later."

I lay there without moving.

She gently patted my shoulder. "What is wrong, baby? You look like you're in a terrible mood."

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

It was her usual gentle touch, yet I couldn't feel a single trace of warmth.

I forced myself to breathe evenly and replied, "It is nothing. I just don't feel well."

"By the way, how did the dinner with Gallagher go?"

"I didn't fix it."

Victoria paused for a second. "That is fine. Drop it. We can just scrap the deal. I do not want you swallowing your pride for them."

A bitter laugh almost escaped my throat.

I wanted to ask her, whose pride was she really trying to protect?

But the words died on my tongue.

"Alright."

I didn't sleep a wink that night.

When I walked into the corporate office the next morning, the boy had already started his first day.

His name was Oliver.

Up close, he was even more handsome and youthful than he looked in that dim private room.

But he was an absolute idiot.

During the board meeting, he couldn't even figure out how to project the presentation slides.

His meeting minutes were an illegible disaster.

Victoria was notoriously ruthless with her employees.

Yet toward Oliver, she possessed an infinite well of patience.

I endured the farce until the meeting ended.

I followed Victoria into her private office to discuss a new project rollout.

Oliver hovered nearby, pouring tea.

With a clumsy twist of his wrist, boiling hot tea splashed directly onto my arm. Blisters instantly erupted on my skin.

All the documents on the desk were ruined.

I couldn't hold it back anymore. "How do you mess up pouring water?"

He slammed the teapot onto the table.

He didn't say a word, but his face was a mask of sheer defiance and resentment.

"Shouldn't you be apologizing to me?"

I asked him calmly, but my tone only made him defensive.

"I didn't do it on purpose! Why do you have to be so aggressive? Don't think just because you have money you can bully me."

Standing beside us, Victoria looked at him with unmistakable admiration.

Was this the fierce independence she loved so much?

I was about to reprimand him, but she immediately grabbed my hand, stepping in to shield him.

"He is young. He doesn't have any corporate experience. Let me apologize on his behalf, okay?"

My heart gave a violent tremor.

I pulled my hand out of her grip.

The incident was swept under the rug.

After finishing our work discussion, I packed up to leave.

Victoria suddenly cleared her throat. "I have a networking dinner tonight. Head home without me. Don't wait up."

I knew her too well.

She always cleared her throat right before she lied.

"Okay."

Back in my own office, I pulled Oliver's contact info from HR and added him on Instagram.

Sure enough, just past eight o'clock, Oliver posted a new story.

Victoria was sitting right there in his photo.

They were eating at a dirty street-food stall.

The table was covered in aggressively spicy greasy food.

Next to their plates sat two cheap, sugary lemonades from a corner bodega.

This was a woman who refused to drink coffee unless the beans were flown in from Yemen.

Now, she was happily sipping a three-dollar lemonade.

It was pathetic.

I clicked onto Oliver's profile.

His sparse feed was suddenly dedicated entirely to Victoria.

[My twentieth birthday. Ms. Sinclair bought me my first pair of Italian leather shoes! But I still prefer my worn-out sneakers haha.]

[The CEO experiences a dive bar for the first time. She frowned the entire time but still peeled my crawfish for me!]

The more I read, the tighter my chest became.

Right then, my phone vibrated loudly.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I glanced at the preview, and my stomach plummeted.

...It was my father. He had just been released from prison.

[Kyle, help your old man out. Did you really think you could strike it rich and cut me off?]

[I am rotting in the gutter, and I will drag you down into the mud with me!]

[Do not forget how you crawled your way into the Sinclair family. Give me half a million dollars, and I will keep my mouth shut.]

I didn't reply.

My hands shook as I deleted the message.

I suddenly remembered the bet Victoria and her friends made in that private room.

They placed bets on exactly when my facade would crumble.

My father was a ticking time bomb.

Sooner or later, that bomb was going to detonate.

But I was exhausted. I was done living in constant, suffocating fear.

If this lie was going to shatter, I wanted to be the one holding the hammer.

Victoria didn't come home until dawn the next day.

She brushed it off, claiming she was stuck negotiating with clients all night.

But I had already seen Oliver's social media.

There were no clients.

She had hiked up a public trail with Oliver to watch the meteor shower.

They spent the whole night looking at the stars, waiting for the sunrise.

At the breakfast table, Eleanor spoke up. "The annual family gala is approaching. Kyle, you need to start the preparations."

The Sinclair family hosted a massive heritage gala every year.

Every direct heir, distant cousin, and board member of the Sinclair dynasty attended.

It was the single most important event on their social calendar.

I listened to Eleanor and asked, "What is the exact date of the gala?"

"The twentieth."

My phone buzzed relentlessly in my pocket.

The blackmail texts were pouring in one after another.

[You ungrateful brat! If you don't reply right now, I am marching straight to your mansion!]

I hesitated for a few seconds, then typed my response.

[You want money? On the twentieth of this month, come find me at the Sinclair ancestral estate.]

The days dragged on.

The twentieth was rapidly approaching.

Some people were stressed, while others were living a fantasy.

Oliver's Instagram updated daily.

It was a meticulous diary of his romance with Victoria.

Victoria skipped executive board meetings to drive him out to the suburbs to visit his sick grandmother.

She spent her weekends experiencing the "working-class struggle" with him, wearing a ridiculous mascot costume to hand out flyers on the sidewalk.

The two of them squatted on the curb, eating cheap hotdogs from a cart.

Every photo, every caption was a poisoned needle driving straight into my heart.

My father's threatening texts continued to flood my phone.

The messages grew increasingly vile.

He called me a cheap whore, a sewer rat trying to feast with the royals.

He told me I was born to die in the mud.

The locked doors of my trauma were kicked wide open.

I remembered his drunken rages. The way he beat me until my skin split open.

He used to pin me to the dirty floor and force me to bark like a dog.

He tied me up with extension cords and hung me from the ceiling pipes.

My head felt like it was going to split open.

The emotional pain made my physical body violently shake.

I had to dig my fingernails into my palms until they bled, biting down on my teeth so hard they nearly cracked, just to maintain a blank expression.

The twentieth was almost here.

Money couldn't save me anymore. This glamorous, glittering illusion couldn't save me either.

I had to crawl my own way out of this swamp.

I had to save myself.

The day of the gala finally arrived.

The entire family was required to gather at the Sinclair ancestral estate in the Hamptons.

Victoria's Bentley was idling in the driveway.

When I pulled open the passenger door, I froze. Oliver was sitting in the front seat.

Victoria quickly explained, "I brought him along today to let him experience high society."

She turned to Oliver. "Move to the back seat. The front is for my husband."

Oliver bit his lip and tugged pitifully at Victoria's silk sleeve.

"Ms. Sinclair, I get terrible motion sickness. If I sit in the back, I'll throw up..."

Victoria's heart melted instantly.

"Kyle, why don't you..."

I didn't say a word. I quietly closed the door and got into the back seat.

The ride was dead silent. We finally arrived at the estate.

Oliver looked exactly like I did when I first stumbled into this world.

His eyes darted everywhere, terrified and shrinking into himself.

But he was much luckier than I ever was.

Victoria hovered over him like a protective hawk, shielding him from every judgmental stare.

When a younger female cousin tried to flirt and offer Oliver a glass of champagne, Victoria silenced her with a lethal glare.

"What are you doing? You already have a boyfriend. Trying to take my little assistant home as a side piece?"

The cousin rolled her eyes. "Why not? Is that a problem?"

Victoria instantly snapped her head back to look at me.

She was checking to see if I had heard the exchange.

Honestly, I was past the point of caring.

I stared blankly at the antique grandfather clock against the wall, silently counting down the minutes.

Finally, the estate manager rushed into the ballroom, looking frantic.

He announced that an uninvited guest was causing a scene at the front gates.

As he spoke, his eyes kept darting nervously in my direction.

"The man claims... he is here looking for the master of the house."

I spoke up, my voice perfectly flat. "Let him in."

The man who walked through the heavy oak doors was my father.

His face was weathered and deeply lined. A cheap, unlit cigarette dangled from his lips.

He was wearing a stained, torn flannel shirt. The soles of his work boots were peeling off.

Victoria had run background checks on me. She instantly recognized his face from the private investigator's files.

She immediately flagged down the estate security. "Throw this man out!"

"That won't be necessary," I said, stepping in front of the guards.

"...What exactly do you think you are doing?"

I looked Victoria dead in the eyes. "I told him to come today. I want to confess everything to your family."

Victoria's face drained of color. She lunged forward to stop me.

But it was too late.

"My entire identity is a lie."

"My parents are not university professors. I am not an Oxford graduate. I am the son of a degenerate gambling addict. I have never even set foot in Europe. Every single thing I told you was a fabrication."

The grand ballroom erupted into absolute chaos.

Eleanor looked like she had been struck by lightning.

She was trembling violently, screaming at me, "Are you having a psychotic break?"

"Eleanor, every word I am saying is the truth. If you don't believe me, ask Victoria. She knows everything about me."

"From the very beginning, she knew I was a fraud. She sat back and watched me put on a show. She watched me play the elite prodigy, bleeding myself dry just to climb the ranks of your family."

I looked at Victoria and forced a smile.

It probably looked more like a grimace.

"Victoria, I lied to you, and you played me for a fool. I would say we are finally even."

Before the silence could settle, my father lost his patience. He spat on the polished marble floor.

"Kyle, are you done running your damn mouth? You people can sort out your rich drama later! Give me my money!"

I slowly turned my head and locked eyes with him.

I spoke slowly, emphasizing every single syllable. "I don't have your money. You are not getting a single cent."

"I just confessed everything to the Sinclair family. You no longer have any secrets to hold over my head."

"I have nothing left to lose. I am not afraid of you anymore. If you push me one more inch, I will drag us both to hell!"

I pulled a pocket knife from my jacket and pointed the blade directly at him.

The crowd shrieked in horror. Panic swept through the room.

It was absolute pandemonium.

But for the very first time in my life, I saw genuine fear flash in my father's eyes.

His lips quivered. He muttered curses under his breath, but he didn't dare raise his voice.

Right on cue, the estate security swarmed in. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of the ballroom without another word.

The remaining guests stared at each other in shock.

The whispers grew louder, echoing off the high ceilings.

"Everyone, please quiet down!" Victoria barked, her expression dark and dangerous.

She glared at me. She looked like a lioness preparing to tear my throat out.

"Kyle, you planned this. Pulling a stunt like this today... what exactly is your endgame?"

I twirled the small pocket knife in my fingers.

The blade was sharp. It slipped, slicing a shallow cut across my palm.

Bright red blood welled up instantly.

"I used to worship the life you people lived. I was willing to lie, cheat, and steal just to experience it for one second. Now that I have lived it, I realize it is entirely hollow. It is incredibly boring."

"When a person lives in a world that doesn't belong to them, they will never find peace."

"I am exhausted. The illusion is broken. I just want it to be over."

"Let's get a divorce, Victoria. I am done being a pet in your gilded terrarium."

I pulled off the blood-stained diamond wedding band and dropped it onto the marble floor.

It let out a sharp, echoing clink.

Her jaw locked tight. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard.

"A divorce? You conned me for years, and now you want out? If we divorce, you get absolutely nothing. You will walk away with the clothes on your back. I highly suggest you reconsider!"

"My mind is made up."

I pulled the prepared divorce settlement from my inner pocket and handed it to her.

Victoria was breathing heavily. Blinded by rage, she snatched the documents and ripped them in half.

"You are not thinking straight. Once you sober up and calm down, we will talk."

"I am perfectly sober. I am divorcing you."

I looked at Victoria, my voice unwavering. "No matter what it takes, we are done."