THE FALL

SLAP!

I jolted awake, my cheek stinging from the sharp blow. Catherine stood over my bed, fully dressed in an expensive cream suit, her face twisted with disgust.

"Get up, you lazy cow," she hissed. "It's seven in the morning. A proper mother should already have breakfast prepared and children ready for school."

I scrambled to sit up, my heart racing. Violet was still sleeping peacefully beside me, her small body curled under the blanket.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

"Of course you didn't know. Whores don't know how to be mothers." Catherine's voice dripped with venom. "Get dressed. You have duties now."

She threw a piece of paper at me. It fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf. "Your daily schedule. Follow it exactly, or you'll answer to me."

The list was written in perfect cursive handwriting:

6:30 AM - Wake up, prepare breakfast

7:00 AM - Wake children, ensure they're dressed properly 

7:30 AM - Serve breakfast, pack lunches

8:00 AM - Drive children to school

9:00 AM - Clean house, do laundry

12:00 PM - Prepare lunch

6:00 PM - Prepare dinner

8:00 PM - Help with homework

9:00 PM - Put children to bed

"But I don't know how to cook fancy meals," I said, my voice small. "And I've never driven such an expensive car.."

"Then you'll learn. Fast." Catherine's eyes were like ice chips. "Mess up once, and you'll remember why you married my son in the first place. Your sick little brat needs those medical bills paid, doesn't she?"

The threat hit me like a punch to the gut. She was right. I was trapped.

I dressed quickly and stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, which was bigger than my old apartment. Everything was stainless steel and marble, intimidating and cold. I opened cabinet after cabinet, looking for something simple to make.

"What the hell is this?"

I spun around to find Jason, the oldest boy, holding up a plate of scrambled eggs and burnt toast. I'd tried my best, but the fancy stove was nothing like what I was used to.

"I'm sorry, I'm still learning how to use the kitchen.."

"This is garbage," he said, then deliberately dropped the plate. It shattered on the marble floor, eggs and toast scattering everywhere. "Clean it up. And make something edible this time."

I dropped to my knees, picking up the broken pieces with shaking hands. A shard cut my finger, and blood dripped onto the white marble.

"Disgusting," Sophia, the daughter, said as she walked in. "You're bleeding on our floor. How unsanitary."

The youngest boy, Michael, kicked at the mess I was cleaning. "Dad should have married someone who actually knows how to cook. Not some street trash."

By the time I'd cleaned up and made new breakfast, they were already late for school. Alexander was nowhere to be found, probably at work, avoiding the chaos his marriage had created.

"You'll drive us," Jason announced, grabbing expensive car keys from a hook. "And don't embarrass us by talking to anyone at school."

The Mercedes was a monster machine that I was terrified to touch. My hands shook as I adjusted the mirrors and seat. I'd only driven my old beaten-up car before this.

"Hurry up!" Sophia snapped from the backseat. "We're already late because of your incompetence."

I managed to get them to school without crashing, but just barely. The other parents in their luxury cars stared at me through the windows, probably wondering what the help was doing in the driver's seat.

When I got back, Catherine was waiting with another list.

"The house is filthy," she announced, though everything looked spotless to me. "You'll clean every surface, wash all the linens, and scrub the bathrooms. Properly."

I spent the entire day on my hands and knees, scrubbing floors that already gleamed, washing sheets that seemed perfectly clean. My back ached, my hands were raw from cleaning chemicals, but Catherine kept finding new things for me to do.

"The silver needs polishing," she said, appearing like a vulture. "And you missed a spot on the chandelier in the dining room."

By afternoon, I was exhausted. When I went to check on Violet, who was napping in our room, Catherine blocked my path.

"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.

"To see my daughter. She's been alone all day.."

"Your bastard child can wait. The children will be home soon, and their snacks aren't prepared."

"Please, just five minutes.."

"Did I stutter?" Catherine's voice turned dangerous. "You'll do as you're told, or your daughter's medical care gets cut off. Permanently."

I bit back tears and returned to the kitchen. Making snacks for kids who hated me while my own child lay alone upstairs.

When the children came home, things got worse.

"This sandwich is disgusting," Michael said, taking one bite and spitting it out. "What kind of cheap bread is this?"

"It's the same bread you eat every day," I said quietly.

"Are you talking back to me?" His voice was sharp, just like his grandmother's. "You're just the help. Know your place."

Jason laughed. "She thinks she's family now. How pathetic."

"Dad only married her for charity," Sophia added. "Like those commercials about starving kids in Africa."

Each word was a knife to my heart. But I kept quiet, kept serving, kept pretending their cruelty didn't matter.

That evening, Alexander finally came home. I thought maybe he'd see how his family was treating me, maybe he'd care.

"How was everyone's day?" he asked, loosening his tie.

"Terrible," Jason said immediately. "She can't cook, she made us late for school, and she talks back when we correct her."

Alexander looked at me with disappointed eyes. "Emily, we discussed this. You need to try harder."

"I am trying"

"Try harder," he repeated coldly. "These children lost their mother two years ago. The least you can do is take proper care of them."

Their mother. The perfect woman I could never replace. I understood now why they hated me so much.

Later that night, I finally got a moment alone with Violet. She was feverish again, and I was panicking.

"Mama, I don't feel good," she whimpered.

I carried her downstairs to find Alexander. Maybe he'd help, maybe he'd remember why I was here in the first place.

But as I reached the main floor, I heard Jason's voice from the balcony that overlooked the garden.

"She's such a pathetic gold digger," he was saying to someone on his phone. "Dad married a literal prostitute. It's so embarrassing."

Something inside me snapped. My daughter was sick, I'd been treated like garbage all day, and now this sixteen-year-old was laughing about my pain.

"Jason," I called out, stepping onto the balcony. "We need to talk."

He turned around, his face twisted with annoyance. "What do you want?"

"I want you to stop," I said, my voice shaking with anger. "Stop being cruel. Stop treating me like I'm nothing. I'm trying my best"

"Your best is pathetic," he spat. "You're pathetic. Dad only married you because he felt sorry for your sick kid."

"That's enough!"

"Or what?" Jason laughed, stepping backward toward the railing. "You'll tell my dad? He doesn't care about you. None of us do. You're just temporary charity"

His foot slipped.

For a moment, everything froze. Jason's eyes went wide with shock as he realized what was happening. He reached out, trying to grab something, anything.

But there was nothing to grab. And then he was falling.

Five stories down to the stone garden below.

The sound his body made when it hit will haunt me forever… All I saw was blood splattered everywhere.