CHAPTER 89

I WON'T LET HER WIN...

The ride back to Abigail’s mansion felt like it stretched forever. Maya sat in the backseat of the car, her hands folded tightly on her lap. The glow of the streetlights blurred past the windows, but she hardly saw them. Her thoughts were trapped in the café, replaying every word Obetta had said, every cruel smile, every dagger disguised as a whisper.

The driver glanced at her through the mirror once or twice, as though sensing her unease, but he didn’t ask anything. She was grateful for the silence. Her chest felt heavy, like a stone pressed against her ribs, and she didn’t know how to begin explaining it to anyone.

By the time the car pulled into the driveway, Maya had forced her face into calmness. She breathed deeply, telling herself she could not walk in looking like a ghost. Abigail would notice. Luke might notice. And Obetta’s power would grow if she let the fear show.

The door opened, and the warm light from the house spilled out. Abigail was already waiting in the sitting room, curled on the couch with a blanket across her lap. When she saw Maya, her eyes softened with a smile.

“You’re late,” Abigail said gently, her tone more teasing than scolding.

Maya tried to smile back. “Traffic.”

Abigail tilted her head, studying her. “Hmm. Traffic doesn’t usually make someone look like they’ve seen a ghost.”

Maya’s stomach tightened. She had forgotten Abigail wasn’t the kind of woman who looked only at surfaces. She saw beneath them, into the places people tried to hide.

“I’m fine,” Maya said quickly, stepping closer. She placed her bag down and sat beside her friend. “Really.”

Abigail didn’t push immediately. She only reached out and touched Maya’s hand. “You don’t have to tell me now. But I hope you know you can. Whatever it is.”

The kindness in her voice nearly broke Maya. For a moment, she felt the tears threaten to rise, but she swallowed them back down. She could not bring Obetta’s poison into this room not yet.

“I’ll tell you… soon,” Maya whispered, her eyes lowering.

Abigail gave her hand a squeeze. “That’s enough for now.”

Across the city, Obetta paced her bedroom like a lioness caged. The glass of wine she had poured sat untouched on her vanity table. Her reflection in the mirror mocked her with its calm beauty while her insides burned.

“How dare she,” Obetta hissed, slamming her palm against the dresser. “That little girl dares to walk away from me? From me?”

She could still see the look in Maya’s eyes defiance where she had expected fear. It unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. She had always been the one to hold power, the one to pull strings and watch people dance. Maya was supposed to break, not stand tall.

Obetta paced faster, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “She thinks she’s strong. She thinks she can defy me. I’ll show her. I’ll break her from the inside out.”

Her mind raced through possibilities. She could spread the story immediately, ruin Maya’s image in Abigail’s eyes. But something in her wanted to savor it, to drag it out, to watch Maya squirm under the weight of knowing what she held over her.

“Yes,” she murmured to herself, sinking into her chair. “I’ll wait. I’ll press where it hurts most. I’ll let her confidence grow just enough… so when I strike, she’ll fall harder.”

Her lips curved into a cruel smile. “And Abigail will see. She’ll see that I’m the one who belongs by Luke’s side. Not that little stray who follows her around.”

Obetta lifted the wineglass and finally took a sip. The bitterness of it only sharpened her resolve.

Maya lay awake in the guest room, staring at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the night pressed around her, but inside her head, Obetta’s voice echoed mercilessly.

Stay away from Abigail. Or I’ll tell the world.

Her fists clenched against the sheets. She hated how much power the words still carried. It was only a rumor an ugly lie twisted from something innocent but it had nearly destroyed her once. Could she survive it again? Could Abigail still look at her the same way if she found out?

Her throat tightened at the thought. Abigail had been nothing but kind, nothing but loyal. She deserved honesty. But the fear of losing that trust kept Maya silent.

Sometime past midnight, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She picked it up, hoping it was nothing urgent. A message lit the screen.

From Obetta: Sweet dreams, little bird.

Maya’s stomach dropped. She gripped the phone tightly until her knuckles turned white. Obetta wasn’t done. She was just beginning.

At breakfast the next day, Luke was already at the table, reading the morning paper. Abigail poured herself coffee while Maya sat quietly, pushing scrambled eggs around her plate.

Luke glanced up. “You look tired,” he said simply.

Maya managed a small smile. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Abigail studied her carefully. She could tell Maya’s unease had not lifted since the night before. When Luke left the room to take a call, Abigail leaned closer.

“Maya,” she said softly, “you know I won’t judge you, right? Whatever it is that’s haunting you you’re safe here.”

Maya’s lips parted, the confession trembling on the edge of her tongue. But then she saw Obetta’s smirk in her mind, heard her voice dripping with poison.

“Not yet,” Maya whispered instead, shaking her head. “Please. Just give me time.”

Abigail wanted to push further, but something in Maya’s eyes stopped her. It wasn’t refusal it was fear. So she nodded, though worry gnawed at her.

“All right,” she said. “But whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Back in her room, Obetta reclined on her bed with her phone in hand, scrolling through pictures. She paused at one she had saved years ago a grainy photo from Maya’s university days. It wasn’t proof of anything, but in the right hands, with the right words, it could be painted as damning.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, itching to release it, but she stopped. Not yet.

“No,” she murmured to herself. “I’ll wait until she’s standing tall beside Abigail, smiling like she belongs. Then I’ll drop the fire. Then I’ll watch her burn.”

She set the phone aside and let her eyes drift shut, her lips curling into a satisfied smile.

That evening, Abigail suggested a movie night. Maya agreed, though her heart wasn’t in it. They curled up together on the couch, the flickering light from the screen dancing across their faces. Abigail laughed at the film, but Maya’s thoughts were far away.

She tried to focus on the warmth of her friend beside her, on the safety of this home. But she could still feel the shadow creeping at the edges, threatening to swallow it all.

Abigail leaned her head against Maya’s shoulder, unaware of the storm inside her. “You’re quiet,” she said softly.

Maya swallowed. “Just thinking.”

Abigail closed her eyes. “Don’t think too much. Just… be here.”

Maya’s chest ached with gratitude and fear all at once. She nodded, resting her cheek against Abigail’s hair, and whispered to herself:

“I won’t let her win.”

But deep down, she knew Obetta was only just beginning her war.