Chapter 38 JADE
JADE
The doorbell rings, cutting through the silence of the house like a knife.
I startle, nearly dropping the empty teacup I've been absently turning in my hands for the past hour. The sound is jarring, a reminder that the world continues to exist outside the bubble of grief I've wrapped myself in.
My first instinct is to ignore it. I haven't spoken to anyone in days, and haven't wanted to. But the persistent chime comes again, forcing me to move.
I check my phone, pulling up the security app that shows the camera feed at the gate.
The screen shows a white delivery van with a familiar logo, the catering service I use.
This evokes a painful memory of Declan, who sometimes insisted on cooking despite having a catering delivery service.
"Sometimes you just need good home food," he would say.
I frown, not remembering placing an order. Maybe Gloria arranged it, worried about me after days of isolation. It would be like her to ensure I'm at least eating, even from a distance.
With a sigh, I press the button to open the gate, then drag myself to the front door. The least I can do is accept the delivery, even if the thought of food holds no appeal.
When I open the door, a woman stands there holding a paper bag emblazoned with the catering company's logo. She's about my age, with shoulder-length brown hair and dark eyes that study me with an intensity that makes me uneasy. Something about her seems vaguely familiar, though I can't place why.
"Ms. Sinclair," she says, her tone professional but tight. "Your food delivery."
"Thank you," I respond automatically, forcing a polite smile as I reach for the bags. "I think my manager must have ordered this, I don't remember..."
My words die in my throat as she pulls a handgun from the bag, pointing it directly at my chest.
"Inside," she says, her voice suddenly hard. "Now."
Time seems to slow. My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I back into the foyer, my hands raised instinctively. She follows, kicking the door closed behind her with a decisive thud.
"Living room," she directs, gesturing with the gun. "Move."
"Sit down," she orders once we reach the living room.
I sink onto the couch, trying to keep my breathing steady. "Who are you?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. "What do you want?"
She laughs, the sound sharp and brittle. "Of course. Of course the mighty Jade Sinclair wouldn't recognize me." Her face twists with contempt. "Why would you? I was nothing to you, even as you took everything from me."
I study her face more carefully, searching for something familiar in her features. There's a faint resemblance to someone, but I can't quite place it. "I'm sorry, I don't..."
"Becky," she spits out. "Becky Mercer. Charles's daughter."
The name hits me like a physical blow. Charles. My first manager. My abuser.
"You remember my father now, don't you?" she continues, watching my reaction with savage satisfaction. "The man whose life you destroyed."
"Becky," I whisper, memories flooding back. The girl who once was part of my makeshift family. My abuser’s daughter. She lived with her mother and would only occasionally visit. Once I got out of that situation I never heard from her again. We weren’t exactly friends and I didn’t want any reminders of that part of my life.
"Why are you doing this?"
Her grip tightens on the gun. "You took him from me. First his attention, then his career, then his life."
"No, that's not..."
"When he found you," she interrupts, pacing now but keeping the gun trained on me, "you became his whole world.
His precious discovery. His 'most beautiful girl in the world.
'" She mimics the phrase with vicious sarcasm.
"Suddenly, being with his daughter wasn't a priority anymore.
Why bother when he had his perfect little doll to play with? "
While she'd been jealous of the attention her father gave me, I'd been suffering the worst kind of abuse at his hands.
"Becky," I say carefully, "your father... he wasn't who you think he was."
"Shut up!" she snaps. "He was a good man! A brilliant agent who discovered real talent, who worked tirelessly to build careers. And you..." her voice cracks, "You fired him, blacklisted him, destroyed everything he'd built."
"I was fourteen," I say quietly. "When he started abusing me."
"Lies!" she shouts, the gun shaking in her hand. "All lies! You were jealous. Greedy. Wanted more money, more fame. He made you, and you threw him away like garbage!"
"Is that why you've been stalking me? The messages, the break-ins, the threats?"
She smiles, a cold, satisfied curl of the lips. "Three months of watching you unravel. Watching you doubt everyone." Her voice drops to a venomous whisper. "Watching you make those men fall for you, only to toss them out like you did my father. Used, broken, and disposable."
"Your father overdosed because of his own demons, Becky," I say, my voice gentle but firm. "Not because of me."
"He would never have touched drugs if you hadn't ruined him!" She's shouting now, her face flushed with anger. "Everything was fine until you came along. Everything!"
The ringing of my phone cuts through her tirade. We both freeze, staring at the device on the coffee table.
Mateo's name flashes on the screen like a heartbeat I forgot I had. Of all people, of course it would be him. Calling at the exact moment when hearing his voice would be both salvation and torture.
Becky's eyes narrow. "Answer it," she snaps. "Otherwise your sick little love puppy will come knocking. And if you say one word about me, I'll shoot you before he gets through the door."
With trembling fingers, I pick up the phone and swipe to accept the call.
He exhales like he's been holding his breath for days.
"Jade?" Mateo's voice is a lifeline I can't grab. "Listen, we need to talk... There's something you need to know..."
"No! I need you to listen to me," I cut in, locking eyes with Becky.
I take a breath. I go still inside.
"Like I said before...this is over." I pause, choosing my next words carefully. "If you're unconvinced that a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so."
A pause.
He doesn't speak. But I feel him listening. Really listening.
I push forward, my eyes locked with Becky's. "Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time!" I raise my voice just enough...loud, sharp and decisive.
Another pause. My heart beats once, loud in my chest.
I soften.
"I didn't think so."