The Ellsworth Scandal
The very first thing that struck me about Serena Ellsworth was her beauty. She hadn’t spoken a word, yet it felt as if I had known her my whole life. The Ellsworth sisters were truly mesmerizing—five strikingly beautiful girls, each born two years apart. Serena was the eldest and my classmate, followed by Thelma, Ursula, Vera, and the youngest, the spoiled Winter.
Their parents, Quincy and Riley Ellsworth, had built an empire. Quincy, a well-known pharmacist, owned a thriving chain of pharmacies in the city. Riley, a former international pageant queen, was the brains behind not only his business operations but also her own lucrative cosmetics and self-care ventures. The Ellsworths were wealthy, respected, and envied.
And then there was me—Oliver Grant.
I was born into poverty, the product of an absentee father who disappeared the moment he learned of my mother Millie’s pregnancy. My brains were my ticket out. Academically gifted and street-smart, I had clawed my way through life. But now, as I tell this story, I sit here a widow, broke, and an outcast, all because I crossed paths with the cursed Ellsworth family.
Let me take you back to where it all began.
The Rise
Serena and I met in ninth grade. She was dazzling, untouchable, and yet, she sought me out—not romantically, but as a study partner. The arrangement was mutually beneficial: I gained recognition, status, and even financial support. Over time, I became practically family. By twelfth grade, the Ellsworths had taken me under their wing, relieving my mother of the financial burden of raising me. I was given opportunities I never thought possible.
I graduated at the top of my class and earned a spot in the medical program at the University of Montgomery. Serena pursued pharmaceuticals, and the Ellsworths continued their unwavering support. She was headed for a doctorate, and I was on a six-year path to becoming a doctor. At this point, our relationship remained platonic. I had seen her date around, but I was more focused on my ambitions than on romance.
That changed in our fourth year.
One evening, Serena showed up at my apartment in tears over yet another heartbreak. I comforted her. One thing led to another, and by morning, we had crossed a line. That night marked the beginning of our relationship.
Her family’s reaction stunned me. They weren’t just happy—they were ecstatic. They celebrated us, showered me with more support, and gave us their full blessing. By the time Serena graduated, her father gifted her a polyclinic—a state-of-the-art medical facility named Blackwood. But the true surprise? It wasn’t just hers. It was ours. I was granted full autonomy to run and manage the clinic alongside her. We were set for life.
We moved into the bungalow built on the clinic’s premises. Life seemed perfect.
The Shadow in the Corner
There was, however, one small detail I had neglected to mention.
Ursula.
Serena’s younger sister and I had always been close, but over the years, our bond had deepened in ways that should have never happened. Late-night phone calls, hours spent alone in her room under the guise of wedding planning—it had all been innocent until it wasn’t.
I should have stopped it. I should have known better. But I didn’t.
With our wedding only two weeks away, Ursula requested a final planning meeting. She insisted the entire family be present, even Winter, who was now in her second year at university. She organized catering. She was serious. But as we all gathered, plates in hand, Ursula remained standing, holding nothing but a notebook.
Then she spoke.
What she said shattered everything.
The Fall
Ursula was pregnant.
With my child.
The room erupted. Screams. Plates shattering. One of the sisters lunged at her, restrained only by their mother. And Serena? She sat in silence, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
I expected rage. A slap. An outburst. Instead, Serena waited for the commotion to settle and, in a voice eerily calm, said to Ursula:
“If this is what you two want, you can have it.”
Then she turned to her parents and added, “Let them have Blackwood too. I don’t want it anymore.”
Without another word, she stood up and walked away. Her mother and sisters followed. Quincy remained for a moment, his cold stare burning through me, before he too disappeared.
I was left alone with Ursula.
My betrayal was complete, but shame never stood a chance against desire. As if possessed by the devil himself, I took her right there on the couch, in her parents’ home, while the remnants of my shattered life lay around us.
The Price of Betrayal
Quincy returned later that night with his final decree.
We were free to have the wedding. We could keep the clinic. But Ursula was fired from her position as operations manager of the family businesses, effective immediately. He was disowning her. As for me, I was to be cut off entirely. The powerful network I had once relied on would no longer exist. We were on our own.
Ursula didn’t care. I pretended not to.
The wedding proceeded as planned, though not a single Ellsworth attended. We moved into Blackwood’s bungalow, and for a time, things seemed stable. Ursula was insatiable, both in bed and in her role as my new business partner. We convinced ourselves that we were happy.
Months passed, and true to their word, the Ellsworths remained ghosts in our lives. But one day, everything changed.
The Final Revelation
I had stepped out to take a call when I saw a familiar figure near the clinic’s entrance.
Serena.
She hadn’t come alone. A man stood beside her, his posture rigid, expression unreadable. Then, she spoke words that unraveled my world.
“You thought you won, didn’t you?” she said, her voice smooth, controlled. “You thought you walked away with my family’s fortune, with my sister, with the clinic?”
I felt a cold sweat break out on my skin.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
She smirked. “Blackwood? It was never yours. The documents you signed? A formality. My father never relinquished control. And now, as of this morning, we’ve sold it.”
I stumbled back. “No. That’s not possible.”
“Oh, but it is,” she purred. “We just wanted to see how long you’d last without us.”
The man beside her handed me an envelope. Eviction papers.
I had nothing left. No clinic. No home. No support.
And as I stood there, speechless, Ursula emerged from the building, a hand on her swollen belly. She took one look at the papers in my hand and turned to Serena, her face crumpling with realization.
“You planned this,” she whispered.
Serena smiled. “Enjoy the life you chose.”
And with that, she walked away, leaving me and Ursula standing in the ruins of our own making.
I had played the game.
And I had lost.
