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26

Author: Thekla Jackiv
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-05-30 07:13:16

The sun came down on the terrace like it was trying to bribe someone. It turned the silverware into petty thieves and the linen into starched liars. I sat under a striped parasol sipping black coffee I needed badly, stirring it like it held answers. The only thing it held was bitterness—and not the metaphorical kind.

I was wearing one of Marta’s handpicked outfits—some tasteful beige thing with ruffles that made me look like a slightly burnt cupcake on house arrest. The look was important. The cameras liked the tastefully helpless looks. They valued soft girls around here, with gentle hands and no dark secrets. I almost ticked the boxes, but the secret bit was letting me down. I was considering to check myself into a mental hospital after it crossed my mind my father could have faked his own death. If he did, I am sure he had a good reason. I was surprised how calmly I took it. No fuss, no drama, no silly tantrums. But what reason he could possibly have to concieve a daughter in secre
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  • The Vision She Hid   70

    It took Marta three full minutes to hand over the key. Not because she didn’t know where it was—she reached for it with the certainty of someone who’d memorized its shape by heart—but because she knew exactly what I was about to find.“It hasn’t been opened for a long time,” she said, eyes on the rusted little thing lying on the wine table between us. “If he left anything, it’s been there waiting for you,” she said.The old greenhouse stood like abandoned heaven, beautiful once, rotting now. Its windows were filmed with mildew, its doors locked tight with the kind of padlock that suggested someone thought glass alone wasn’t enough to keep the dirty past from leaking.I shoved the key inside a rusty piece of metal that ceased to look like a lock. It hesitated, resisted for a bit, then turned with a promising click.Inside, it was humid, warm and stale. The scent of decay, mold, and damp, unwanted paperwork. The vines had long since claimed the corners of the metal frame, curling over

  • The Vision She Hid   69

    That drawer was older than my two granddads, and twice as stubborn. It stuck halfway, like it knew better than to give up secrets after midnight. But I wasn’t in the mood for furniture with opinions. I yanked, cursed softly, gave it a forceful pull and the thing groaned open like it was confessing to a crime.Inside was yellowed lace, a rolled-up menu from a wedding reception, and a photo album bound in white leather. It had that brittle look—like if you breathed too hard on it, the ghosts inside might run away. I flipped it open.There they were. Elky and Celeste, she looked exactly like me. They were newly married. Smiling like the world hadn’t noticed the wolves in tuxedos at their reception. She changed into pale blue, the Grace Kelly vibe. He looked like a man who’d won something he hadn’t earned and knew it. But it was the way he looked at her that cracked something soft in my ribs.I started to close the album, but the page felt thick too. Like it had something else for me to s

  • The Vision She Hid   68

    But Marta didn’t have a chance to tell me what it was. There was a loud bang somewhere in the garden. I recognized the sadly familiar sound of a car exploding in the car park. I felt Marta’s strong hands grabbing my shoulders, protecting me from what may come next. But nothing did; just people running down the stairs to look what happened. Some out of fear, some out of curiosity, and at least one of them to double check that what had to be burn did so nicely. It was my chance to do the work done and I was too alert to waste it. I slipped out of Marta’s embrace and joined the crowd stomping outside. Only I didn’t go with the flow towards the car park. The night was the kind that pressed its palms over your mouth and whispered, “Don’t scream.” I slipped out of the stomping crowd of staff and confused bodyguards like a rumor on legs, taking the long path toward the stables that hadn’t seen a horse since grief ran its last lap. The moon dragged over the estate like it owed me an explanat

  • The Vision She Hid   67

    Marta’s room didn’t believe in luxury. It was the kind of place where modesty felt compulsory and comfort was an afterthought. The beige linen curtains were drawn. No frills, no lies you couldn’t hear coming. The kind of space where truth might take off its shoes, sit down and relax for a change.I had to talk to her. Our encounter in the greenhouse was too surreal for honest talk. It assumed continuation, and Marta was aware of that. She didn’t look up when I walked into her humble quarters. Just reached for the teapot like we were about to discuss the weather, not the possibility that she’d sold us all out to the highest bidder.“Tea?” she said.“Only if it’s not poisoned,” I said.She smiled like someone who knew the arsenic dosage but wouldn’t waste it on me. “Lemon verbena. Best served with suspicion,” she shrugged.I was still standing. She poured tea for two anyway. Her hands were steady, which was unsettling enough. Traitors’ hands usually shook pretty well.“How long,” I said

  • The Vision She Hid   66

    The greenhouse smelled like dried manure and rot. Humid air was sick with stuffy perfume, vine leaves dripped overhead as if they’d rather dry out than reveal what grew beneath them.Andros Jennings, Elky’s older brother, leaned against the orchid bench like a man leaning on the edge of a noose, dressed in fine linen suite. That Jennings was a bit shorter, still handsome, polite, and had a particularly strong hands capable of turning a handshake into a confession.Marta faced him, calm and indifferent as usual. Between them, the orchids nodded in silent applause, petals slick with humidity and eavesdropping.His smile was slow and measured. “You’ve built something here,” he said, voice caressing each word as if it was his favorite whiskey. “I am impressed, lady. Your intelligence, your survival instincts, your loyalty for God’s sake!” He shouted out each word like a keen auctioneer, then paused. “But when a man falters, when knives come out—where will you land, huh?” He asked, playin

  • The Vision She Hid   65

    The morning crept in like a guilty wife—slow, quiet, full of excuses no one wanted to hear. The light slid across my sheets like it didn’t have intention to wake me up. But something else had already done that. The silence. The kind that hangs on the edge of your bed like a guilty verdict. The kind that says: You’re alone, but not unsupervised.I blinked at the ceiling like it owed me an explanation. The room was still heavy with last night—Elky’s cologne on the pillow, his tension still cooling in the corners like the last cigarette. I reached toward the other side of the bed. It felt empty and cold. Just the imprint of a man who knew how to vanish without a sound.His jacket was gone. But his phone wasn’t. Which meant he was somewhere close.I slipped out of bed with all the grace of a crime suspect. My ankle cracked though my pride didn’t. I padded to the bathroom. No one was there. No steam, no water, no razor whispers of movement. Just marble that had seen too many bad hair days

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