A/n: Thank you so much for your reviews! Just a quick warning: there is some swearing.
Summary: It was funny; he wasn't in love with the story or the characters. He fell in love with the girl behind the story.
It was a warm morning in New York; however, the sun couldn't make Chuck Bass smile today. He had just come back from the bank where he was informed that his monthly eight thousand was not inserted into his bank account. Chuck knew it had to be a mistake. No one knew the truth. No one knew what truly happened to his mother.
A day did not go by, for Chuck, when he didn't think of his mother and all of the "what ifs". He always wondered if she was still around, would his father be more accepting of him. Or if, he could find happiness with someone else, would he stop blaming him for the death of his wife. Except, the first would never happen and Chuck believed, his father, Bart Bass, had given his heart away and never got it back.
When Chuck arrived at The Palace, he headed straight for the Pent-House. Last night, he had spent the evening with Nate and a couple girls who thought they were rock stars.
That was a good time.
Chuck spotted his father quickly, in his study. His body language told Chuck that something had happened and he was expecting Chuck to come to see him.
"I thought we agreed eight grand a month if no one found out." Chuck harshly told him. He did not sit down and stayed standing at the door. Bart looked at him would his business face.
"Oh really? Explain this." Bart told him in his business voice. On his desk, Bart flipped over three major newspapers and a large printing of The New Yorker.
All four exclaimed the same thing: The truth about his mother's death.
"Dad… I didn't… I wouldn't." Chuck realized that there were no words that could possibly make his father realize it wasn't him. He would never do that.
"You will now resign in room 1218… I will cut off the eight grand and will only give you a thousand a month. However, I will continue to pay for your schooling and other necessities." Chuck didn't move and was completely stiff. It wasn't until his father didn't look at him as he walked out of the room that he realized this wasn't a joke.
Someone would pay.
In his head, he started a list of people that could possibly know the truth; however, the sound of his phone vibrating shook him out of his thoughts.
"Hello?"
"Chuck… I just heard I am so sorry." It was Serena Van der Woodsen, a friend of Chucks'.
"Look, Serena… as much as I appreciate the phone call, I have to go move out of my house." With one last click, he hung up.
Someone would pay.
Blair Waldorf walked into her mansion with a smile on her face, the trip to the library was successful and she felt that she was ready for her exam tomorrow.
"Where the hell were you?" Blair looked to see her father, wearing the same clothes he had been wearing for the past few days.
"I was at the library, daddy."
"You call when you're going to be fucking late, understand?" Blair gulped and then nodded softly.
"No, see I don't think you do. If you understood you would have said 'yes, daddy I understand.' But, once again you remind me that you're nothing like your sister." That's when Harold Waldorf took a few steps closer and threw her on the ground.
"Daddy! Please don't!" Harold grabbed her by the arm and stood her up again.
"You are not my little girl." That's when Harold lifted his hand and hit her across the face.
"You're not perfect." Those were the last words that she heard before the phone rang and Harold went to answer it. He had left for the kitchen and Blair ran upstairs.
She hid under the covers until she could hear her mother walking through the front doors. Blair anticipated the yelling and was not surprised when it came.
"Were you out with him again?" He yelled.
"You know very well where I was and if you were intoxicated and then we wouldn't be having this conversation." She yelled back.
Blair hid under the covers until the yelling stopped and she could hear her mother's foot steps up the marble floors. Blair popped her head up and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. Her mom, Eleanor Waldorf, walked in and gave her daughter a peck on the cheek and left the room. When Blair was sure Eleanor was no longer upstairs she hopped out of the bed and went to her computer station.
While waiting for her computer to start, Blair looked at a family photo. It had been taken three years ago; it was Blair, Harold and Eleanor. However, Blair's sister's long blonde locks were covering the corner of the picture. Blair smiled at the memory. It felt like forever-ago that they were a happy family.
Finally, the computer was running and Blair clicked the short cut to her story. When the link was fully loaded she realized that there was a new comment, from someone by the name of Charles B. Blair thought his name was slightly old-fashioned yet very sophisticated.
Carefully, she read the comment and smiled. She was happy that someone thought her story had emotion. Blair looked at the time and knew she had to be in bed or else she wouldn't be "perfect".
Like sleep would help, Blair could hear her mom thinking. Blair shook her head and quickly replied.
Why yes, it happens to be loosely based on the story of my parents.