My Other Half

CHAPTER FOUR

«VALERIA' POV»
CHAPTER FOUR

From what I knew of, there was only three people in my family, not including my other relatives.

There is my father, Maxwell, who married my mother two years, before I was born, at the age of twenty-two. He is now a famous movie director and is known for his wide variety of movie categories. One of my father's first movies was about two girls called Anna and Augusta, he had told me he made it in honor of my dead sister.

Then there is my mother, Joanne, who is mostly known for being the wife of a famous movie director but is also semi-prominent for her clothing store called Luna And Sol.

But, let me tell you an unknown fact about my wealthy and well known family. We weren't always well known and wealthy.

In fact, before we moved to Florida about thirteen years ago, we were basically penniless.
I obscurely remember our dilapidated New York apartment and the beat up Audi Sedan we drove. It was revolting compared to our four story beach mansion and multiple automobiles. My father, Maxwell Maefield, once worked as a cashier at a supermarket during the evenings while my mother, Joanne Arvemich, worked at a daycare in the afternoons.

It wasn't until the summer of two thousand and two when my father debuted his first movie and scraped up enough money to get us a new life in Florida. My parents knew what it was like to have nobody except themselves and I doubted they would want anyone to go through that type of loneliness. So, why would they give their own child, my twin sister, that type of lifestyle?

I don't even know what she looks like!

Oh...wait.

Never mind.

So, when a teenage girl with brown hair and eyes a shade darker than mine appeared on my doorstep not long after I got the news, I was idiotic enough to - for precisely four seconds - believe that she was my twin sister!

But, then I actually got a good look at her and well, we have a lot of differences. For example, she has knotty hair that reached up to her breasts, and even those weren't that big. While I was more on the slim side, the girl had a boyish stature, with broad shoulders and almost no curves - much like Samantha. Apart from her physical features she also wore the most tattered clothes I've ever seen, so I guessed she was homeless. When she asked for my parents I presumed she wanted to ask for money, gag me with a spoon.

I mean, who has enough self-esteem to go up to a mansion and have the decency to ask for money? Of course, I don't really think she had any considering she ran off our property the minute my parents got home. She probably chickened out, the wimp.

Right now, Sam and I are face-timing on my cracked phonescreen, while I chew on cookie dough ice cream and she spray paints yet another one of her bedroom walls.

"Why in fucking hell would they lie to you about that?" Sam furrowed her eyebrows in anger as she wrote her name in black over the turquoise paint.

"I don't know!" I huffed after I swallowed yet another spoonful of ice cream. Yum. We usually don't call Violet for important stuff because she's not the most sentimental person on the planet and has everything a person would want.

"Do you even know her name?" Sam's muffled voice echoed through my room as she tied her jet-black straight strands in a tight bun and crossed her arms, looking at me pointedly through the Apple computer I'd gotten her for her sixteenth birthday. Samantha isn't rich, in fact, her father left when she was two and her kind mother, Brielle, works at a gas station during the night. Sam also works from four to eight at my mother's clothing store - she's one of my mother's best employees.