Chapter 6 - Not Simple

"Hahaha…”

A broken chuckle rumbled up from my chest as I stared at the tiny object beside me. The sound didn’t match what I felt—too sharp, too hollow—but it escaped anyway, as if my body no longer knew how else to respond.

“I can’t believe this…” I whispered, dragging my palm slowly down my face.

I laughed again, softer this time, even as tears spilled from my brimming eyes, carving hot, unrelenting paths down my cheeks. Life had a cruel way of never asking if you were ready before pressing its full weight onto your shoulders.

And now, somehow, it expected me to carry all of it.

“Cassidy…” I murmured to myself, my fingers threading through my hair as I struggled to breathe through the tightness in my chest—caught between disbelief, fear, and the fragile beginning of something I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to face.

“I need to eat.”

The words came out shaky but firm. I staggered to my feet, my body protesting as I rummaged through my pocket for money.

“I can’t stay hungry like this,” I whispered, one hand instinctively moving to my stomach. “I can’t harm you.”

The thought grounded me more than anything else had.

“You only have me,” I murmured as I made my way toward the door, forcing one unsteady step after another. “We only have each other now.”

My life was a mess—tangled, broken, barely holding together—but I clung to the one thing that mattered.

“I’ll take care of you,” I promised, breathing deeply with every step until I reached a small, modest cafeteria nearby.

I ordered a simple, healthy meal and a fresh drink, as if choosing nourishment was my first quiet act of defiance—proof that even in chaos, I could still choose to begin again.

"I chewed my food slowly, carefully, my thoughts tangled as I tried to figure out what I should do next. I couldn’t continue living like this—adrift, uncertain, barely surviving from one day to the next.

When I finished eating, I washed everything down with my drink, my hand unconsciously resting against my stomach, moving in gentle, absent strokes.

Deep down, I had already known. The constant dizziness. The unusual exhaustion that clung to me these past few weeks. None of it had been random.

I wasn’t alone anymore.

Little Ashton Pierce was growing inside me.

As the realization fully settled, something unexpected bloomed in my chest—a fragile, trembling excitement that coexisted painfully with fear. Against all odds, there was life here. Mine to protect.

“CEO Ashton Pierce and Knowles heiress Mirriam Knowles were spotted at the airport earlier today, departing for their well-deserved vacation.”

The reporter’s voice pulled my attention to the television. I looked up just in time to see their photo flash across the screen.

As expected, there they were.

Mirriam wore a radiant, practiced smile as she posed effortlessly for the cameras. Ashton stood beside her in dark sunglasses, his posture calm and commanding. He wasn’t smiling—his eyes hidden, his expression unreadable—but together, they looked flawless.

A perfect couple.

A perfect story.

The kind I had almost destroyed.

I stared at Mirriam’s smiling face on the screen, and no matter how hard I tried, envy crept in like a slow, bitter poison.

We shared the same blood—yet she was always the favored one. The chosen one.

I had never been greedy. I never wanted to steal anything that wasn’t mine. Even now, I refused to. But then why did Mirriam take everything from me? Not just opportunities or praise—but even the smallest chance to be acknowledged by our father.

She left me with nothing.

Why couldn’t she share? We were sisters. And yet she treated me like one of the maids—no, worse. Like an invisible servant. An insignificant slave meant only to support her rise while I stayed buried beneath her shadow.

I knew I shouldn’t covet what wasn’t mine. But after everything I’d endured, anger became my only refuge.

I felt betrayed. Used. Discarded like a hot potato once I was no longer convenient. Even my own father cast me aside without hesitation, declared me dead as if I had never existed.

Had I not served them all beyond my limits? Had I not given more than I ever had to give?

They looked so happy—radiant, untouchable—while I sat here alone. Abandoned. Disowned.

And now there was an unborn life depending on me.

The thought tightened my chest painfully. I didn’t even know if I could raise a child properly on my own—but I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

I would never let my child grow up feeling as unwanted as I had.

“It looks like we’re really on our own, my tiny pea,” I murmured, lowering my gaze to myself.

“They look perfect,” I whispered, my hand tightening slightly over my stomach. “And we won’t ruin what they have, my little one.”

I swallowed hard.

“We’ll be fine,” I told myself, gently patting my still-flat stomach. “Just the two of us.”

I smiled—but the lump rising in my throat burned too fiercely to ignore.

“I won’t steal someone else’s man,” I said, shaking my head as if to seal the promise. I refused to sink that low.

But my fingers curled protectively over my abdomen as resolve slowly replaced despair.

“Still,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision once more, “I will reclaim what should have been mine too.”

My name.

My dignity.

My truth.

“I’ll clear my name,” I vowed, my smile brittle but determined, never lifting my hand from the new heartbeat growing inside me. “I’ll take back my dignity.”

I drew in a deep breath, steadying myself.

“I’ll make things right this time,” I promised softly.

“For you… and for myself.”

"I left the place, unwilling to watch their happiness any longer. Every smile, every carefree glance only sharpened the blade of abandonment already lodged deep in my chest.

“You are Cassidy, right?”

The sudden voice made me flinch.

A figure stepped into my path, blocking my way. My breath hitched as I stared at the hooded woman, fear prickling down my spine. Instinctively, I glanced around, gauging whether there was anyone nearby—anyone who could help if I needed it. But there was none.

“Don’t be scared,” she said quickly. “My name is Sylvia. I used to be a maid in the Knowles household.”

I didn’t respond, my guard still firmly up.

“I’m your mother’s friend,” she added softly.

That caught my attention.

“I don’t have much time,” Sylvia continued, her eyes darting around nervously.

“I saw you on the news recently. I believe it’s time we finally met.”

She lowered her voice. “Your mother and I worked together as maids. I was against her affair with Sir Red from the very beginning. I warned her—it wouldn’t bring her anything good. But Daisy wouldn’t listen. She fell in love… and she got pregnant.”

Her hands trembled as she spoke.

“Madame Rima would never allow her family to be dragged into a scandal,” Sylvia whispered. “After Daisy died, I thought you were dead too. Just like her.”

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confusion tightening my throat.

“Let me hug you.”

Before I could even react, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. I stiffened in surprise—but then I felt it. Something firm and unfamiliar pressed into my palm between our bodies.

Without pulling away, I lowered my gaze and carefully opened my fingers.

A small, thick packet rested there.

Slowly, I unfolded it.

Inside was an empty vial.

“What is this?” I asked quietly, lifting my eyes to hers.

“I found it in the trash can in your mother’s room,” Sylvia said in a hushed voice.

“Right after she gave birth. Not long before Madame Rima had me dismissed.”

My fingers tightened around the vial as I examined the faded label.

“Heparin,” I read, my brows drawing together.

I wasn’t in the medical field—but I knew enough to understand what it was used for.

“Hide it,” she whispered urgently.

She closed my fingers around the vial and guided my hand into my pocket. I kept my hand there afterward, gripping the small package as if letting go would make it disappear.

“I looked it up online,” Sylvia continued, her voice trembling. “When I learned what it does… I was terrified.”

She glanced around once more before reaching for my other hand. Hers was cold. Shaking.

“Daisy—your mother—died from excessive bleeding after giving birth to you,” she said softly.

My breath caught painfully in my throat.

“Death during childbirth can happen,” she went on, forcing the words out.

“It can be unavoidable. But when I found not one—two empty vials in the trash, I started to question everything. And not long after Daisy was buried, Madame Rima sent me away.”

She exhaled shakily, as though the memory still crushed her.

“I don’t want to accuse anyone unjustly,” Sylvia said, her eyes glistening.

“But I have never known peace since that day. I kept those vials all these years.”

She pressed her palm briefly against my pocket, where the vial now lay.

“It’s up to you now, Cassidy,” she said quietly. “I hope—truly hope—that my suspicions are wrong.”

She stepped back, wiping at the corner of her eyes.

“All these years, this has haunted me,” she whispered. “Daisy was like a sister to me. Losing her devastated me.”

Her lips curved into a fragile, sorrowful smile.

“If her death wasn’t… natural,” she said carefully, “then I hope you find the truth.”

She glanced over her shoulder, panic flickering across her face.

“I can’t stay,” she said quickly. “Please take care of yourself. And never—ever—trust the Knowles. Especially Madame Rima.”

She gave my arm a gentle pat, then turned away before I could say another word—her steps hurried, her figure dissolving into the shadows as if she had never been there at all.

I stood frozen, the small vial heavy in my pocket.

And suddenly, nothing about my mother’s death felt simple anymore.

****tbc****