Chapter six

~THE STRANGER’S HOME~

AMAYA’S POV

He smiled, but I barely noticed it because my mind had already drifted somewhere darker.

For years, Brown made me feel powerless, but sitting there in that car with Ariel asleep beside me, something inside me slowly started changing.

I wanted him to hurt the way he hurt me.

I wanted him to wake up one morning and realize he no longer controlled me. I wanted him to feel the emptiness, the humiliation, the rage he spent years forcing down my throat.

My fingers tightened around the bag on my lap. I used to look at myself and feel beautiful, but now, I avoided mirrors.

Before Brown, I was confident, loud, and full of life. I took care of myself because I loved myself, not because I was trying to please anybody. My skin used to glow. I used to laugh without thinking about how I looked while doing it.

I even contested in a major pageant once.

I smiled faintly at the memory. I worked so hard for it too. Long rehearsals, strict diets, heels that left blisters on my feet. I pushed through everything because I wanted that stage so badly. And I actually made it to the finals.

Then suddenly, I got really sick.

One minute I was preparing backstage, the next I was in a hospital bed while doctors kept asking what I ate. They said it was food poisoning, but deep down I always felt it was more than that. My life had never been lucky enough for coincidences.

I sighed quietly and looked down at Ariel sleeping peacefully against me. Growing up, nothing ever came easy for me. My family made sure of that. There was always criticism, comparison, control. So when Brown came into my life acting like my protector, I fell for it completely.

I thought he loved me, that I had finally found someone who truly saw me. Instead, he slowly destroyed every good thing about me until I became someone I barely recognized.

The insults were constant. He called me too fat, told me my skin was bad, and called me disgusting, ugly, and undeserving of love. At first, I used to argue back. Then I started believing him.

That was the scary part. I became quiet, careful, and ashamed of myself all the time. Even when I looked good, I still felt ugly, because his voice lived permanently in my head.

“Are you okay?” Ethan’s voice pulled me back so suddenly I blinked. “You’re shaking.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying until then. Tears were sliding down my face silently. I quickly wiped them away with the back of my hand and forced a small smile. “Yeah,” I murmured. “I’m fine.”

The second the words left my mouth, I felt stupid.

I looked away quickly. I was suddenly so embarrassed of the bruises on my face, ashamed that a stranger was seeing me at my lowest. In that moment, I looked exactly like the kind of broken woman Brown always said nobody would ever want.

I didn’t realize when I fell asleep. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe my body had finally given up after hours of fear, pain, and adrenaline.

All I knew was that I felt a light tap on my arm before I slowly opened my eyes.

“We’re here,” Ethan said quietly.

For a second, I looked around in confusion, disoriented by the soft hum of the car engine and the unfamiliar darkness outside the window. Then reality came rushing back all at once.

My chest tightened immediately.

I looked down and saw Ariel curled beside me, deeply asleep, her tiny face pressed against my lap.

I carefully tried to lift her, but the sharp pain that shot through my side made me wince.

Ethan noticed instantly. “I’ll carry her,” he said.

Normally, I would have refused automatically. But my arms felt weak, and Ariel looked peaceful for the first time that night.

So after a small hesitation, I nodded.

Ethan leaned in carefully, surprisingly gentle for a man who looked like he belonged in dangerous places. Ariel stirred slightly as he lifted her into his arms, but she didn’t wake up. Instead, she rested her head against his shoulder comfortably like she somehow sensed she was safe.

I slowly stepped out of the car and looked around.

The environment was quiet. Soft golden lights lined the driveway, reflecting against expensive black tiles and trimmed hedges. The night air smelled clean, nothing like the suffocating tension that always surrounded Brown’s mansion.

Then my eyes lifted fully to the house ahead of us. A massive glass structure stood before me, modern and elegant, glowing beautifully against the night sky. The architecture was breathtaking—sharp edges, floor-to-ceiling windows, warm lights spilling through transparent walls.

Brown’s mansion was bigger, louder, designed to scream wealth and power.

But this place…

This place had taste. It didn’t feel like a prison pretending to be luxury. I caught myself staring before quickly looking away.

Ethan had already started walking toward the entrance with Ariel still asleep against him, and I quietly followed behind. My body ached with every step, but I pushed through it.

The large doors opened before we reached them.

Two women stood inside waiting. One looked to be in her late fifties, dressed neatly with soft eyes and gray strands visible through her dark hair. The other looked much younger, probably in her early twenties, holding a tablet against her chest.

Both of them immediately looked at me or more specifically… at my bruises.

The older woman’s expression changed instantly. Shock first. Then anger. Then something that looked painfully close to sympathy. “Oh my God,” she breathed softly.

I suddenly became aware of how terrible I probably looked standing there barefoot in an oversized gown with swollen cheeks and dried blood near my lip. Shame crawled up my throat immediately.

Ethan adjusted Ariel carefully in his arms before speaking calmly.

“Prepare one of the guest rooms.” His voice was firm but controlled. “And bring the first aid kit.”

The younger staff hurried off quickly.