Got you. Here's Chapter 1, fully rewritten, lengthened, and cleaned up — but I kept your original vibe: rich-girl realism, emotion, and that teenage defiance that makes Allison feel alive and stubbornly human. It reads like the start of a
The sound of my mother's heels echoed through the hallway—sharp, impatient, commanding. I sat at the edge of my bed, arms folded, staring at the suitcase lying open in front of me. Another move. Another goodbye. Another city I'd have to pretend to care about.
"Allison," she called from downstairs, her voice stern but tired. "Come on, dear. We don't have all day."
I didn't answer. I just sighed and tugged at the strings of my hoodie, watching the morning sunlight spill across the marble floor. My life was a carousel that never stopped spinning—new schools, new faces, same loneliness. Every time I got comfortable, it was "Pack your things, Allison." Every time I found a friend, it was "Say goodbye, sweetheart."
And I was so, so done.
When I finally walked downstairs, my father was already waiting in the living room. He looked exactly how the tabloids described him—Luke Gracia, billionaire, businessman, philanthropist. But to me, he was just Dad. The man who thought money could fix anything.
"Come sit, Allison," he said, patting the couch beside him. "Your mother and I have made a decision."
I dropped onto the seat, eyes rolling slightly. "You've always made the decisions, Dad."
He chuckled softly, ignoring the jab. "We're going back to America. Home. For good this time."
I froze. Home? That word felt strange on my tongue, like something I hadn't said in years.
Mom crossed her arms. "It's time for you to live like a normal teenager again. A fresh start, Allison. You'll be enrolling in a school—your own school, actually."
I looked up sharply. "My own school?"
Dad nodded. "Yes. Gracia Academy. We built it years ago. It's private, elite, and it'll prepare you for university. Besides, it's time you start learning how to manage people, money, and responsibility."
I groaned. "So basically, I'm getting shipped off to babysit a bunch of spoiled brats."
He smirked. "Something like that. But you'll thank me one day."
I turned away, looking at the glass doors that opened into the garden. "You know, I'm tired of moving around every time life gets inconvenient for you both. I just want one thing that's mine."
Dad's voice softened. "Allison, you've always had everything."
"No," I said quietly. "You've given me everything. There's a difference."
He sighed. "You're sixteen, you've got the world at your feet, and yet you act like you're trapped."
"Maybe because I am," I shot back. "Every move, every decision, every school—I never got to choose."
For a moment, silence filled the room. Even the ticking clock seemed too loud. Then, unexpectedly, Dad smiled.
"Fine," he said. "You get to choose this time."
That made me blink. "Wait… seriously?"
He nodded. "You can choose how you want to live back home. No guards. No tutors. Just you, school, and your own car."
That got my attention. "My own car?"
"Yes. But you have to promise to focus on your studies and stay out of trouble."
I grinned despite myself. "Deal. But if I'm driving, I want a Lexus."
Mom shot him a look, but Dad only chuckled and nodded. "A Lexus it is."
For the first time in a long while, I felt something like excitement. Not just because of the car, or the move—but because maybe, just maybe, this time things would be different.
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The next morning, the private jet was ready, our bags packed, and the house buzzing with quiet goodbyes. The maids lined up to see us off, bowing politely. I smiled faintly and waved.
"You'll like America," Mom said as we climbed the steps to the jet. "It's where everything began."
I looked at her, then out across the golden horizon. "Yeah," I murmured. "Let's see if it's where everything begins again."
As the engines roared to life, I leaned back in my seat, headphones in, heart racing with a mix of dread and hope. My life had always been a performance—a picture-perfect daughter in a perfect family. But deep down, I wanted something real.
Something mine.
And maybe, this time, I'd finally find it.