บททั้งหมดของ The Price Of Her Mercy: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

JACKSON “That was exactly the point, though.” I cough and belch, and in that moment, I can feel my entire intestine running toward my mouth. He lets out a deep sigh, one of those bone-tired sighs that make me feel like a kid again. I’ve disappointed him. But that’s not my fault. I didn’t bring this upon myself. I’m just selfish enough to care for only myself but how bad is that? “It doesn’t fix anything.” I know that, he knows that, and every other person who decides to run to the bottom of the bottle rather than face any discomfort head-on knows that it doesn’t. It never has, and it sure damn well won’t. “The earlier you get the facts, the better for everyone.” I don’t answer. He’s right, he always is. But my pride never lets me admit that to him. Ever. The rest of the drive home is quiet. My head rests on the cool glass as the street lights all dim. By the time we get to the mansion, my limbs are heavy, my mouth too dry, my stomach threatening a war. I can’t move, and

JACKSONI sit up while waiting for Jerry to go get my mother’s portrait hung in my room. I see my socks, a leg on the floor, and another on the edge of the chair. A bottle and a glass on the table.My discarded tie lays there on the floor like a snake, and my shirt rests on the edge of my bed. Last night was really something.My mind flashes as I remember I didn’t hear from Aurora. Maybe it’s the cell service that makes it difficult to connect, I think. I’ll blame anything and everything except Aurora. I can’t bring myself to terms with the idea that maybe she doesn’t care about me, just my money or status.I take a deep breath, and suddenly, my eye catches the first aid kit, and the thought of what Faye did makes me smile. I heave out a sigh. I’m supposed to be having the time of my life, but today is just another day to live in this black hole of despair.I hear Jerry’s voice down in the hallway. The house is so big and empty that even the least things make the most noise. I look ou

AURORA“Good morning, ma’am. The car is parked and ready to go.”“Of course. Get me another bottle of anxiety pills.I spilled mine not so long ago.”I grab my long, thick black coat, my fedora, and my black Gucci bag, and we head out. The lock clicks as she shuts the door behind me.“And what’s your name again?” I ask as I sit at the back of my Mercedes, adjusting the seat belt to fit.“It’s Sasha, ma’am.”“Sasha.”She’s my new assistant. I have to let the old one go out of anger. I need to take my frustration out on someone, and it’s her.“Coffee. Black, with no sugar,” I command as we drive into the city in silence.“Yes, ma’am,” she replies.The city smells like money and luxury. It’s supposed to. Here in L.A., only the rich people are acknowledged and seen. An average man is nothing around here.The city can either make or break someone. It produces engineers, lawyers, and other professionals who thrive over the years. People call it the happening place. It’s where dreams come tru

MIRAAs I arrange my groceries into my bike’s basket, my shivering hands betrayed me, before I knew it my jam kiss the floor.“Ah shit Mira! I’m sure you can do better.” I hiss“Need a hand?” A voice call from beside me. Low, but steady. Not like he was managing it, but like he was trying to be nice.I raise my head, not to him. But to the reflection on the glass to catch who that is before I face him. It’s him.I know from the jeans he suddenly changes into. A wave of excitement suddenly hit me. Everywhere becomes quiet as my pulse becomes louder. My hands began to shiver again and my heart thumped like I’d just finished a marathon.“Nah, I’m good. I drop things for fun.” I reply softly. My cheeks hurt from being puffy the whole time. A small but gentle laugh escapes him. “Looks like you win all the time.” He mutters “You can say that again.” I respond and with that I summon the courage to rise and face him. At that moment, none of us moved. It was as though there were a lot of uns

MIRALunch break arrives and I'm staring at the newspaper in on hand holding a cigarette in the other.“Mira, are you reading about your future husband again?” Jason’s voice snaps me out of my head. He sneak up behind catching me in the act as he, chewed on a straw.I blow out smoke in the opposite direction and I whimper“Fuck you! He’s not my...” I stop myself, and frown at the paper again. “I mean this just looks bad. Not to judge though, but he doesn't seem like the type of guy to do this."“Right?”Jason whistles low. “Billionaire, huh? Meanwhile you're out here crushing on a newspaper. Girl, what are you going to do?”I roll my eyes, as my chest tightens. Inhaling and exhaling my cigarette slowly tapping my right foot on the pavement behind. The words on the page blur for a second, and I have to blink to steady them. It's unlike me to worry about another person's pain or problem. I'm loaded with issues of mine already.“He didn’t seem like that kind of person,” I mutter quiet