<a class="postlink" href="https://imgur.com/4W8iRG1.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/>Molly Quinn O'Donnell<br/>23<br/><br/><br/>The past 24 hours had been rough for rusty haired Molly Quinn. Once living every girl's dream, Molly had lived the high life in New York City. Meeting celebrities, dining with the up and coming, going to ritzy parties and wearing lavish gowns, and only sleeping in the finest hotels.  She was a far cry from the girl everyone thought they knew.<br/><br/>"$500,000??" Molly's jaw dropped in disbelief, her Hazel eyes wide while her brows rose higher and higher. She couldn't afford that kind of money. For all she pretended to be one of the Elites for over 3 years, Molly had nothing. Her family had been middle class. Her mother, orphaned at a young age, moved from America to Ireland, where she met her father.<br/><br/>"I don't know what we can do for you, Miss O'Donnell." A bookworm of a man sat across the table from the fire-haired young woman. He was the complete opposite of her in every way. His hair was dark, neat, and he sat with a hunch, as if to make himself seem unimportant. Whereas Molly's long red curls were a mess, the result of being behind bars since her arrest, she sat up straight, and confident, as if she weren't in prison, but some expensive restaurant.<br/><br/>Molly cringed at the sound of her last name. Since moving to America, Molly had dropped her last name, opting to use her middle instead. While her mother had no ties in America, Molly didn't want her past ruining the fairytale she had grown accustomed to living. "It seems to me..." The bookworm, for she had really begun to think of him as such, so much so Molly had already forgotten his name. "Molly, that you're only real option is to plead guilty." Molly huffed, crossing her arms. She would do no such thing. Coming to a stalemate, her lawyer left as Molly was taken back to a cell. She glanced at her reflection as she was taken from the room, orange really wasn't her color, and longed for something decent to wear. What was she to do?<br/><br/>Molly made use of her evening by trying to comb the mop on her head with her fingers. Without any personal belongings, she had to make due. No one would let her borrow their's, no matter how nicely she asked. Molly knew she wouldn't be able to survive a place like this. Prison. And this wasn't even her final destination. With over 1 million dollars is debt, Molly could either pay it off, which was impossible, or find herself locked up for a very, very long time. Sure, it could be taken to court and Molly could, potentially, get off the hook, but in reality that was not an option. So instead, Molly lay upon her bed, running her fingers through her tangled hair, and contemplated firing her lawyer. If she was going to be pleading guilty it better be for a good deal and Molly had a feeling the bookworm wasn't the sort of man who could do that for her.<br/><br/>"O'Donnell. Come with me." A burly guard rumbled as the bars to her cell opened. With a furrowed brow, Molly stood, allowing the man to take her arm and lead her from the cells to processing where she was given back the belongings she arrived with. "Get dressed. Someone's posted your bond. They're here to pick you up." Dumbfounded, Molly entered a small room and stripped out of her orange jumpsuit. Who would post her bond?? Thinking back, Molly had plenty of acquaintances, but no real friends. Or, rather, no real friends that could afford $500,000.<br/><br/>Exiting the room, now wearing fitted gray slacks and forest green top, rather flattering if Molly said so herself, she was met by an older gentleman, dressed in business casual. "Hello." Molly tested the waters. "Are you the one who-?" The older man shook his head. "No." His words were curt and Molly didn't much like that he interrupted her. "My employer did." the man went on to explain that he was the limo driver and Molly was to come with him. His employer was waiting for her inside the limo.<br/><br/>Curious, Molly followed. Who was his employer? The older man opened the door for her and held her hand as she slid inside, her slacks making a light swish as she positioned herself comfortablely. Blinking, Molly waited for her eyes to adjust to her, much darker, surroundings. Very aware of her own appearance, Molly looked a bit abashed. It was very nice inside and she, with her unkempt hair and wrinkled clothes, obviously didn't belong. Of course, had she ever<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>belonged amongst these people?