Panting, I rushed into Damian’s house, my chest rising and falling like I had been chased. The first thing I saw was him standing in the hallway, holding the same file I had secretly placed beside his meal earlier.His eyes found me instantly. That stare. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t even angry. It was just… deep. A stare so steady, so prolonged, that my tummy twisted, and my knees felt weak. I couldn’t tell if he was seeing me… or through me.He let his gaze travel from my face heavy with makeup all the way to my dress that hugs my curves and flows down, down to my toes, slowly, like he was studying me. My throat dried. My heart raced, standing there looking amazing for the first time under Damian’s gaze that was sharp enough to cut through bone.“Where did you get this?” he said raising the file. His voice was low, commanding.“From the bar,” I whispered, my palms suddenly clammy.“Has anyone else laid hands on it?”I shook my head quickly confused why he did ask. “No.”
I didn’t expect his words to hurt that much. Damian’s voice still rang in my head like a whip: “You have just one job, to cook and stay hidden.” He made it sound like I was nothing more than a shadow under his roof. I thought after the night I dragged him home drunk, maybe the gap between us will be lesser. But no. He crushed that hope with one sentence.Tears ran down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them. My chest felt so heavy I could hardly breathe.Then I heard footsteps in the hallway. Quickly, I scrubbed my face with my palms, smoothed my hair, and sat upright like nothing happened. My heart thudded when a soft knock came at the door.It was Agnes.“Good day, Rachel,” She said as she stepped in with her calm, motherly smile, but the moment her eyes landed on me, the smile softened into concern.“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle, almost like a whisper.“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a weak smile. My throat burned from holding back another sob.Her eyes lingered on my s
Rachel was still on top of me, her breath shaky, her hair falling into my face. For a second, I almost forgot to breathe. That image of me holding her and whispering don’t leave me burned through me. Shame ripped through my chest.“Get up,” I said holding my breath . My voice was sharp, commanding, colder than ice.She jerked up immediately, as if my tone had burned her skin. Her head bowed low. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.I pushed myself up and stood, brushing invisible dust from my shirt just to stop my hands from shaking. I walked up to her, my steps heavy. Then I slammed my palm against the wall, pinning her there. Her eyes widened, wet with fear and confusion.“Why do you keep meddling in my business?” I hissed, my face inches from hers. “Are you a pest?”She shook her head fast, too fast.“You have one job,” I said, my voice slicing into her like glass. “Just one. To cook. To stay hidden. That’s all.”“Clean this dining room,” I added, my tone still hard tho
The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was peace. Strange, heavy peace. My body was glued to my bed, my face pressed against the pillow, and for the first time in weeks I didn’t wake up to any phone call for company emergency.I lay still, staring at the ceiling. White. Too white. I blinked.Felt like I was waking up from straight one week sleep, was replaying the scenes that happened the last time I was at the company. The fight with my uncle and drinking it off at the bar.Wait, the bar?.The last place I remembered… wasn’t here.It was the bar.My heart jumped. I jerked up from the bed so fast that my head spun. A sharp wave of dizziness hit me, and I pressed my palm against my forehead. My throat tasted of alcohol, bitter and stale.“Great,” I muttered under my breath, dragging my hand down my face.Before I could gather myself, the door creaked open.Agnes walked in.She shut the door gently, holding a small tray. “You’re awake.”“Unfortunately,” I grumbled, swinging my leg
I sat at the far end of the little private sit-out Aria had chosen. The place was dim, quiet, and almost too beautiful for the kind of heaviness I carried in my chest.The night breeze was soft, carrying with it the faint smell of roasted meat from a street vendor nearby. But nothing felt right in my life anymore.Aria sat across from me, her eyes fixed on the table like she couldn’t bear to look at me. I hated how nervous she looked. I hated how her silence stretched between us like a sharp blade.She kept twisting her fingers, her lips trembling like she was fighting words that wanted to escape.For minutes, we didn’t speak. Just silence. Just air pressing down on us. Just my heart screaming.Finally, Aria shifted in her seat, took a deep breath, then shocked me by sliding off the chair and going down on her knees right in front of me.I was shocked. My chest tightened, my heart almost stopping.“What, what are you doing?” I asked, my voice breaking knowing the words that are likely
“What are you doing here?” the voice came againThe voice was sharp, arrogant, laced with some kind of entitlement.I quickly kept the documents and closed the drawer, putting the picture and the decoration ball back in place.I walked out of the room to meet them.Eden. Angela’s son, the young boy my dad introduced to me as my half brother.The resemblance was undeniable. He had her smirk, that sly curve of lips that always seemed to mock before words even came out, and our father’s sharp jawline. He leaned against the wall casually, like he owned the place, like we were intruders in what should have been our own home. His eyes weren’t kind.Aria didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin, her voice steady. “We came for something.”Eden tilted his head, smirk widening. “Something? What kind of something?”I stepped into the light, my breath wavered but I forced my voice to be clear. “We came to get some of our mother’s pictures. For the burial.”For a second, silence hung in the air. Then Ed