THREE-Could This be a Trap?

                                     ❧

In the week that follows, my life is miserable. I’m either crying for Lena or trembling at the thought of my punishment. 

I keep waiting for guards to burst into my room at any moment and drag me to the torture room. But nothing happens.

Even though Sebastain hasn’t said a word since the night I slapped him, I’ve noticed how he took out his anger on other people. 

The bodyguard who watched everything happen, died in a car accident some days later. 

Majority of the maids working in the house that night, who could have overhead our argument, are nowhere to be found. 

When I asked the head maid about the others, she told me they were away to see families. Yet she wouldn’t meet my eyes the whole time she was speaking. 

I understand what happened, Sebastain has killed them all because they witnessed me disrespecting him. 

I wonder when my own death would come. 

I’m still thinking about it when a knock sounds at my door. 

“Come in” I sit up, ready for my fate. 

But it’s a tiny new maid at my door. Her eyes widen as she takes in my room. 

“Does Sebastain want to see me?” My voice is calm, not betraying my fear. 

The maid tears her gaze away from taking in my gigantic room, to face me. “No ma’am.” Her voice comes out in a squeak. 

“I was told to inform you that you have a visitor.”

“What!” I jump to my feet in surprise and the maid flinches, probably thinking I was going to hit her. 

“I…I didn’t mean any disrespect ma’am. I was just asked to deliver the message.” She shuffles her feet and twists her fingers in her skirt. 

I wave my hand impatiently “you said I have a visitor? Someone is here to see me?”

My heart is pounding in my chest. 

I have never had a visitor since I was brought into the Delacruz family. I don’t know anyone who would want to visit me. 

“Did you see the visitor?” I ask excitedly. 

“No ma’am. The watchman said the person is waiting down by the estate gates.”

I freeze. 

Could this be a trap? Set by Sebastain’s mother? Or his sister? Are they here to teach me a lesson for disrespecting the head of the Delacruz family? 

“Did the watchman tell you if it’s a female visitor or if there’s more than one person?” I clasp my hands behind my back to hide the tremor from the maid. 

“He only said to tell the lady of the house that there’s someone down by the gates waiting to see her.”  The maid glances around and begins to wring her hands vigorously. She seems anxious to leave. 

“You can go” I dismiss her as my mind reels with different possibilities. 

Could it be an assassin sent to dispose of me? If I leave now would I vanish off the surface of the earth?

I reach under my pillow for the knife I’ve been keeping since that night with Sebastian. 

I refuse to go down without a fight. 

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“Martin, you said I had a visitor” my eyes are squinted, gaze piercing behind the watchman, trying to find an ambush. 

“Yes Mrs. Delacruz.” He bows. “The visitor is waiting in the gardens for you.”

My brows raise in confusion, this is not what I was expecting. The garden close to the gates is visible from the mansion. No assassin in their right mind would try to kill me there. 

“Interesting” I whisper, as I hasten my steps to the gardens in anticipation. 

When I see the stranger, his back is turned. I can’t see his face. So I take my time assessing him, trying to figure out if he poses a threat. 

He’s tall and lanky, dressed in a pristine black suit, and he reeks of expensive cologne. 

Definitely not an assassin. 

“I heard you wanted to see me” my voice rings loud in the silence. 

My visitor turns around to face me and he freezes, mouth hanging open in surprise. I watch the blood drain out of his face as he steps away from me. 

“What?” I look behind me quickly, paranoid by his reaction. 

The man blinks and shakes his head.

“Sorry…for a moment I thought you were someone else. You really look like her.”

I sigh in relief and roll my eyes. 

“You men and the weird ways you flirt. Don’t you think you’re a little too old for me?” I stare pointedly at his black hair, it has a lot of grey streaks. He looks to be in his sixties too. 

“Sorry Maria, I was just taken by surprise. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He adjusts his glasses and stretches out a hand for me to shake. 

Alarm bells go off in my head. 

Nobody ever addresses me by my first name, it’s always Mrs. Delacruz. My hands go to my pocket and I grip the knife that I’m hiding. 

“I can see you’re surprised by the way I addressed you.” The man drops his hand. “Take a seat and I’ll explain everything to you.”

“You’re ushering me in my own home?”

I burst into laughter, trying to hide the unease I’m feeling, but my shaky voice betrays me. 

“It seems to me that you don’t know who’s property you stand on. Let me remind you w…”

“I know Maria” he waves his hand impatiently. “You don’t need to be scared, I’m a friend and I have some news for you. All you have to do is—”

“Scared? Why would I be scared in my own home?” Sudden anger washes over me. 

“I am a Delacruz. It is you who should be trembling. You do not know what I am capable of old man.” My voice is sharp and cold, even to my own ears. 

He eyes the hand that’s still in my pocket, and his confidence seems to waver. “There’s no need to do anything rash. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable with my words.”

He pauses, and I realize he’s waiting for my reply.

 “State your business and get this over with.” I take a seat and gesture for him to do the same. 

“I’m here to deliver some news.” He takes a deep breath. “One is good, and the other bad. Which would you like to hear first?”

“Start with the good one” I fake a yawn and lean back in my seat, trying to come off as bored. 

But my heart is beating fast in anticipation. This is my first visitor in years, what could this be about?

“The good news is that you have a large fortune that was left behind for you.” He grins broadly and waits, like he’s expecting some kind of reaction. 

“What do you mean? I don’t know anyone who would leave me a fortune.” I study the man’s expression carefully. What is he playing at? 

As Sebastain’s wife, I count as a rich woman. 

“This kind of brings us to the bad news.” This time, the man’s expression is sober and he looks genuinely sorry for what he’s about to say. 

“So what’s this bad news?” I ask wearily. 

“I’m sorry to tell you Maria, but your father is dead. ”