An Exit Without Goodbye

I was still reeling from the bombshell that Chester Graham was tying the knot.

Chester shot me a look, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Aren't you going to hurry up?"

I hung my head, flustered, and scrambled to gather my ripped clothes. "Got it, Mr. Graham."

I said, slowly rising to my feet and gingerly dressing in my tattered outfit.

As I was about to leave, limping from the pain in my legs, Chester's voice stopped me.

"Wait."

I spun around, a spark of hope igniting within me.

However, before I could get a good look at him, a coat landed over my head.

"Your clothes are a mess. Wear this coat outside.

"And don't forget your birth control."

His words were like an icy shower, dousing any lingering expectations I had.

I walked out, my steps rigid, and gently shut the door behind me.

I should have known better than to harbor any feelings for him after all those years.

Back in my room, I fought back tears and dug out the birth control pill from my dresser, swallowing it without a second thought.

That was my reality for the past three years.

I pulled out a mirror to fix myself up before heading to work.

As I touched the marks on my neck, I was briefly reminded of their lingering warmth.

My story with Chester started by sheer chance.

At a party one year, a rival of the Graham family spiked Chester's drink, which I accidentally drank in its entirety.

Since I was always expected to be Chester's shadow, I was the only one there when the drug hit.

Overwhelmed by its effects, I collapsed, crying out for him to help me.

Chester, ever the straight arrow, found himself caught up in my turmoil, unable to break free.

In moments of distress, he would haul me onto the bed and forcefully rid me of the drug's lingering effects.

When my eyes fluttered open, still dazed, the Graham parents were already upon me, their hands delivering sharp slaps.

"For eighteen years, we've taken care of you, and you repay us by drugging and tempting our son!"

Before I could even grab my clothes, the Grahams' guards yanked me down to the basement for a daily dose of their cruel punishment.

By the time they pieced together the truth – that it was all a big mistake – they let me go, a battered shell of myself, bloodied and gasping for life.

Chester's gaze was a tangle of emotions as he looked at me. "Why didn't you say anything?"

I could not confess to him the truth – that part of me indeed wished for something more.

I just smiled weakly from the bed. "It's fine."

Maybe Chester got a taste for the thrill, because time and again, he would summon me to his room, clear-headed, and after our secret moments, he would send me away without a second thought.

He never let me stay the night; no matter how exhausted he was, he would always make sure I left.

However, this time was different; he kept me there, on and off, all night long.

In the morning, I freshened up, slipped into fresh clothes, and set out to prepare Chester's breakfast.

I was not like the other maids in the Graham house; I was not bogged down with the usual chores. I was there for Chester alone.

Since he was a boy, Chester was sickly. The family tried everything, and someone suggested that maybe what he needed was the steady company of a kind-hearted woman. So they scoured the country and found me in an orphanage.

I was just a seven-year-old girl then, and Chester was an eight-year-old boy.

The Grahams only took a chance on me, never expecting much. Yet, by day five at Chester's side, he was noticeably better.

That's why I stayed.

As a kid, I was his playmate. Later, his study buddy. After he graduated, he did not need me shadowing him, and I became his personal maid.

He was always distant, except for those moments. Like when he would remember my birthday and surprise me with a stunning necklace.

Or those drunken nights when he would softly hold my hand as I handed him lemon soda, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"Ann, you're not like anyone else, you're the most special," he would murmur, his words laced with a hint of something more.

I foolishly let those words carve a place in my heart, allowing forbidden feelings to bloom.

I wanted to believe he cared for me, even just a little.

That was all I needed.

However, today, reality hit hard. It was all a fantasy.

His heart belonged to Wendy Lawson, the heiress with the silver spoon.

I set his breakfast down, everything in its place, ready to be served. He did not need me anymore, and I had too much self-respect to overstay my welcome.