MEETING MANDY PEREZ

The estate was quieter than usual. It wasn’t silence — it was that eerie, intentional hush that meant something was coming. Something worse.

Aliyah sat by the window, cradling a teacup she hadn’t touched. The morning sunlight painted gold on the marble floors, but everything inside her felt gray and numb.

She was eleven weeks pregnant.

The doctor had confirmed it again yesterday. Pedro hadn’t visited in days.

She was both relieved and terrified.

A soft knock echoed through her door, followed by Elena’s voice.

“He’s coming. Dress quickly. Something simple.”

Aliyah looked over her shoulder. “Pedro?”

Elena stepped inside with a box. “No. Her.”

The maid laid the box gently on the bed and stepped back. Inside was a pale-blue silk gown and matching shoes — nothing flashy, but elegant in the way money made everything seem effortless.

Aliyah frowned. “Who’s her?”

“Elena.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s Mandy.”

Aliyah’s heart skipped.

He was bringing his wife. Here. To this corner of the estate. To her prison.

“Elena,” she said, her voice rising, “why would she be here?”

“I don’t know,” the maid said honestly. “But if she’s here, it means he’s making decisions. And you should be ready for whatever comes next.”

***

Mandy Perez was beautiful. Not just rich-woman beautiful. She had the kind of calculated beauty that screamed designer clinics, curated genetics, and a stylist with no conscience. Everything about her was flawless — right down to the gleaming white smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Aliyah was led to the small sitting room off the eastern wing. It was the first time she had left her suite in weeks — and certainly the first time anyone had made her dress like a doll.

When she walked in, Mandy was seated like she owned the entire room.

Pedro stood near the fireplace, hands in his pockets, watching silently.

Aliyah’s heart thudded so hard she thought it would give her away.

“Ah,” Mandy said, turning. “So this is the girl.”

Aliyah stopped in her tracks.

Mandy stood and crossed the room with slow, predatory grace. She looked Aliyah up and down like she was a piece of art on auction.

“She’s… younger than I thought,” Mandy said, casting a glance at Pedro. “You didn’t tell me she was so pretty.”

Aliyah tried to swallow her fury.

Pedro didn’t move. “She’s carrying the heir.”

Mandy arched a brow. “And here I thought it would be a clean arrangement. A transaction. But this feels… messier.”

Aliyah found her voice. “What am I doing here, Pedro?”

He looked at her, cold and unreadable. “This is a conversation.”

“No,” Mandy cut in, “this is an introduction. Because, sweetheart—” she took a step closer, “you’re now part of my family. Isn’t that precious?”

Aliyah blinked. “I’m not part of your anything.”

Mandy tilted her head. “But you’re carrying my child.”

Aliyah’s jaw clenched. “My child.”

Mandy’s smile vanished. “Legally, everything you create while under contract becomes property of Perez Holdings.”

Aliyah’s mouth went dry.

Pedro didn’t intervene.

“That baby,” Mandy continued, stepping even closer, “is my legacy. And when you give birth, you’ll be compensated and… gently phased out.”

Aliyah couldn’t breathe.

“You can’t just take him from me,” she said hoarsely.

Mandy chuckled. “Oh, darling. You already gave him up the day you walked into this house.”

Pedro finally spoke. “That’s enough.”

“No,” Aliyah snapped. “Let her finish. Let me hear every word. Because I want to remember this moment — the moment I realized how deeply I was buried.”

Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “Careful. I can be your best friend or your worst enemy.”

Aliyah stepped closer, her voice steel. “I was never looking for a friend.”

Mandy scoffed and turned away.

Pedro signaled to one of the guards outside the door. “Take her back to her room.”

Aliyah didn’t fight it.

But as she was escorted away, she turned and locked eyes with Pedro. “You’re letting her take everything from me. Just like you did with my life.”

Pedro didn’t answer.

***

That night, the storm hit.

Thunder rolled across the valley, wind shrieked against the windows. Aliyah sat in the dark, her hands wrapped around her stomach, trying to shield the baby from a world that seemed determined to break them both.

There was a knock on her door.

She didn’t answer.

It opened anyway.

Pedro stepped in, drenched from the rain, his hair wet, his coat flung over one shoulder.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He shut the door behind him. “You were upset.”

Aliyah stood. “Upset? You let her walk into my prison and threaten to steal my child.”

Pedro’s voice was quiet. “It’s not that simple.”

She snapped. “It is for me.”

“I did what had to be done,” he said.

Aliyah stepped closer, tears blazing in her eyes. “Why me, Pedro? Why a girl with nothing?”

He didn’t flinch. “Because you had no one to protect you.”

His reply made her head spin and she hit him again. A second time. 

The crack echoed in the silence.

Pedro didn’t retaliate. He just looked at her — really looked at her — and said, “You hate me.”

Aliyah whispered, “I hate what you made me.”

He nodded once, turned, and left without another word.

***

Later, as the rain pounded the estate, Aliyah took out her journal.

They don’t see me as human. But I will make them feel every wound they gave me.

I will become something they never expected — power they can’t control.

For my child. For my soul. For the girl they buried.