Vengeance

I started having a panic attack and grabbed for my purse on the table beside me, reaching inside to get my can of pepper spray. I didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger over my shoulder and spray not only the beast trying to attack me but also anyone else within range.

He yelled out in pain and called me a bitch. His brother yelled, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Hannah immediately took me by the arm and started pulling me toward the exit. “Let’s go!”

There was a panic in the club, but we rushed out before the bouncers at the door could be alerted that I had done anything. Hannah pushed me into the back of the limousine that was waiting out front for us.

“Back to the hotel,” Hannah instructed the driver, who immediately took off as the twins and the waitress made it out the entrance to search for us.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “Please don’t tell Daddy what happened.”

“It’s my fault,” Hannah replied. “I wasn’t thinking. I never should’ve taken you there in the first place.”

I started crying. “Will I ever be normal, Hannah? How am I ever going to fall in love if I can’t stand a man touching me?”

“That’s what your therapy is for. It takes time.”

“It’s been six years!” I dried my tears with my sleeve. “This is never going to end.”

“Everything ends eventually, or at least improves,” she reassured me. “You’re going to have to learn to forgive them. They were kids, like you, and made a huge mistake.”

“A mistake? What they did to me wasn’t a fucking mistake!” My chest tightened as memories of the past rushed through my mind. “They ruined my life!”

Hannah took my hand. “We’ve been through this. Your life is not ruined, Ladonna. You’ve been given an opportunity for a new beginning. Richard loves you and he’ll never let anyone hurt you.” She ran her fingers from her other hand across my cheek where my scar had been removed by several plastic surgeries. “You’re stunning, you’re talented, and you’re famous. I only wish that you would let the world see the real Wicket. You shouldn’t hide behind that veil onstage.”

“But what if someone recognizes me?” I asked as tremors shot through my body.

“Think about it. Who on earth would put two and two together? As far as the world is concerned, Richard adopted you nearly a decade before it actually happened. You don’t look the same. Money talks, and Richard has made sure that the truth will never come out.”

“Maybe it should come out,” I said. “Maybe I should go back and fuck up their lives like they fucked up mine.”

“That’s not truly on your heart.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you. There’s no reason for you to go back there . . . ever!”

I leaned back in the seat. “I should’ve been there for Grandma when she . . .”

“You can’t change that. I’m sure she only wanted you to be happy. You used to write her letters. She knew you loved her.”

“Yeah, letters with no return address. That was so immature of me.”

“It was the only thing that made sense at the time. Stop beating yourself up. It’s not easy living a triple life.”

I let her words sink in: a triple life. That was exactly what I was doing. I was three women living inside one body.

There was Caprice Tatum—a scared, scarred young girl suffering from intermittent explosive disorder.

There was Ladonna Sterling—the world-traveled, seemingly confident daughter of billionaire Richard Sterling.

And then there was Wicket—the veiled, sensual singer taking the music industry by storm with her first hit album in constant rotation at radio stations around the globe.

No wonder I was so fucked-up in the head!

Sunday, October 25, 1987

2:36 a.m.