Chapter 6
Maya
A week since he moved me into his space, and I can feel him every night.
This man comes to my room at midnight every fucking night, sits on my vanity chair, and just stares at me.
I, of course, pretend to be asleep. But I have a sickening suspicion that he knows I’m awake.
He walks into my room, lights a cigarette, pulls the vanity chair close to the edge of my bed, and watches.
Like I’m a priceless piece of art. Like I’m the view of an ocean in Italy through a small kitchen window. Like I’m something he’d die to possess.
No one has ever looked at me like that before, and I equal parts hate it and crave it. Because when he does it, I don’t feel like nothing. Or ordinary. Or about as interesting as a wall of wet paint drying. I feel like a siren. An enigma.
And that’s why this is getting dangerous.
No matter what or how my sister makes me feel, I’m not using her husband to pick up my broken pieces. That’s just low. Even if she did, at some point… try to kill me. I still can’t completely wrap my head around it. Did I confront her about the fire? No. Did she mention it again? No.
But her hate for me is growing a hundredfold by the minute. It’s a toxic combination of past triggers, her own insecurities, and Graham.
Graham, who looks at me more than he looks at her.
Graham, who sneaks into my room in the darkness.
Graham, who refuses to sleep in her bed, but would jump into mine if I just crooked a finger.
And despite myself, it makes me feel powerful.
All my life, I’ve had absolutely no power over anyone.
Especially her. Really, it’s her fault. If she hadn’t been so cruel to me since my early teens, I would have gone to her with this.
I would have told her, “Hey, your husband is a cheater with wandering hands and eyes,” and maybe she wouldn’t have tried to kill me.
The bedroom door clicks open. Huh. It seems he came earlier than usual tonight.
I force my eyes to shut and my body to relax, pretending to be asleep yet again.
Because what the fuck would happen if I confronted him?
I need him. If he throws me out, I’d be homeless.
The only reason I have a roof over my head and food in my belly is because of his weird, dark fascination with me.
Especially now that two of my three jobs have unexpectedly dropped me, for seemingly no reason at all.
The minute that fascination ends and he no longer has a use for me, he’ll throw me to the wolves. Valeria wouldn't voice a single complaint; it would probably be the happiest day of her life. It’s him who wants me here, not her. And that should have been her first red flag.
I’m violently snapped out of my thoughts by a pain so sharp in my scalp that my eyes instantly fly open. My mouth parts to scream, but a frail hand claps over my lips.
“Not. A. Sound,” Valeria hisses directly into my face.
Her face is completely makeup-free, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her looking so tired, with dark circles visible beneath her eyes.
She bares her teeth at me, the insanity that lives inside her coming out to play.
But I fear that I am not the same woman I was a week ago, before the fire.
And that’s not a good thing. Insanity needs complete obedience in its face, or it turns deadly quick.
If madness isn’t met with a submissive “You’re right” and “I’m sorry,” it gets ugly fast.
But the small pulses of power Graham has been feeding me have made me brazen.
I grab her wrist, forcing her hand away from my mouth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.
The hand she still has buried in my hair yanks my head back and forth in a rage. Her breath comes out in manic pants as she battles the devil living in the pits of her stomach. It’s clear the devil is winning.
“You little lying bitch. You think I haven’t noticed the way Graham looks at you? That he’s the one who bought you that dress? Or that he’s been sneaking into your room every single night?” she vitriols, the pure hatred leaking off her and straight into my skin like toxic uranium.
How the fuck am I going to get out of this room alive?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stutter, trying to avoid her gaze, but it’s impossible with her fingers knotted in my hair, forcing my face mere inches from hers.
“You’re still fucking lying! I know everything that happens between these walls,” she sneers, her spit hitting my face. “The staff here know exactly who the madam of this mansion is, Maya. They do anything to stay on my good side.”
Okay. So there’s no way out of this. I swallow hard and start praying for an easy death. I just hope she won’t try to torch me alive this time.
“It’s not my fault, Valeria. I don’t know why you’re directing your anger at me,” I whisper before I can stop it. “It’s your husband who won’t leave me alone.”
She laughs, and it grates on my very last nerve. I’ve had enough. I’ve had more than enough of her laughing at my pain, of her blaming me for things that are just not my fucking fault.
“You seriously expect me to believe your pathetic little lies? What exactly about you could have drawn his attention except your disgusting damsel-in-distress act? You’re as interesting to look at as a printer, Maya.
Why would he leave a woman like me… and go to you?
Your flat chest? Your squeaky, pathetic voice?
I hate to break it to you, but you’re fucking ugly. ”
She’s already going to kill me either way; I might as well return her digs for once in my miserable life.
“I don’t know, Valeria,” I mutter, my heart beating out of my chest. “But unfortunately, something about you just isn’t enough for him.
Since the very first moment you introduced him to me, he’s had his eyes on me.
You can call me ugly as much as you want, but at the end of the day, your husband is the one dying to get into my bed, and dying to stay out of yours. ”
An animalistic shriek rips from her throat, her face contorting into something completely monstrous.
“You parasitic little whore!” she screams, her hands flying from my hair to my throat, her manicured nails digging deep into my skin as she tries to choke the life out of me.
“He doesn’t look at you because he wants you!
You’re nothing but a stray dog he brought home out of pity! ”
“Then why does he touch me, Valeria?” I choke out, gasping for air, slapping her hands away.
Yet, the words that come out of my mouth are enraging her, and I know that.
Maybe it’s a subconscious urge pushing me to make her crash out more, so I can be dead already and done with this fucking misery.
“Why does he touch me while he won't even look at you?”
“Shut up! Shut up!”
Blinded by psychotic rage, her hands scramble across my nightstand until they wrap around a ceramic vase sitting near the edge. She brings it crashing down directly on top of my head.
Crack.
“Get out! Get out of my house!” Valeria screams.
I let out a cry, my vision blurring as I frantically push her away from me, my hands shoving against her shoulders until she stumbles backward onto the floor.
I reach up to touch my scalp, and when I pull them away, they are completely drenched in blood.
It’s pouring down my forehead, blinding my right eye.
The bedroom door is violently kicked open, slamming against the wall. Graham rushes in.
Valeria’s demeanor flips instantly. The manic demon vanishes. She drops to her knees, letting out a sob as she reaches her hands out toward him.
“Graham! Oh my god, Graham, thank God you’re here,” she wails. “She attacked me! I was just trying to protect myself, she’s insane, Graham, she’s—”
But Graham doesn’t even glance at her. He steps right over her outstretched hands as if she is nothing more than garbage on the floor.
“Maya,” he growls as he lunges toward the bed. His fingers slick with my own blood as he cups my cheeks. “Look at me, Maya.” He commands. His pitch-black eyes are wide. “Sasha! Get the fucking car keys now!” he roars toward the open door.
He grabs a corner of the white duvet and presses it against my head. The pressure makes a whimpering cry slip past my lips.
“I know, sweetheart. I know it hurts. Press down, hold it right here,” he mutters. He doesn't just look worried; he looks insane.
Something dangerous happens in my chest. It’s warm.
It’s an intoxicating, golden heat. For twenty-five years, I’ve been invisible, untouchable, ignored—nothing.
But watching this man completely lose his mind over me makes me feel…
visible. I equal parts loathe myself for it, and crave it so deeply it frightens me.
Through the blur of red in my right eye, I look past his shoulder.
Valeria is still on the floor, tears spilling over her lashes.
She is watching her husband, the man who won't even touch her skin in the dark, press his mouth against her little sister’s bloody forehead in the light for everybody to see.
Despite the fact that she just tried to split my head open, a sickening wave of pity hits me. But beneath the pity, a dark sense of validation settles in my gut. You were wrong, Valeria. I’m not ugly. I’m not nothingness.
Slowly, she forces herself to stand. Her voice shakes as she attempts one last dig to save face.
“Graham, you’re completely overreacting,” she mumbles as she wipes her face. “Look at her, she’s fine. It’s just a scratch. She probably tripped and hit the nightstand herself just to get attention. She’s always been dramatic like—”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Graham bellows, spinning his head around so fast a stray drop of my blood flings onto the wall. “If you speak one more word, I will confiscate every single piece of diamond you have, and all your credit cards. Do you understand me?”
I hold my breath at the standoff. My mind races, wondering what she will choose. Will she choose her pride? Will she choose to walk out of this mansion with her dignity? Or will she choose the Porsche, the money, and the man who clearly doesn’t give a shit about her?
Her eyes drop to the diamonds on her fingers. Her choice is clear in that instant.
“You’re right,” Valeria whispers, fluttering her lashes. The cunning demon is back. She takes a step backward, raising her hands. “You’re right, Graham. I’m sorry. It’s just… it was a sister fight that went way too far. We both got heated.”
She forces her gaze to slide down to me, a terrifyingly cold look hidden beneath her fake smile. “Just… update me while you’re at the hospital, okay? Let me know what the doctor says, sweetheart. I’ll have the staff clean up the glass while you’re gone.”
Graham scoffs before turning back to the bed. He slides his arms beneath me, lifting me against his chest.
As he carries me past her and out into the hallway, I look over his shoulder one last time. Valeria is smoothing down her hair, staring at me with pure hate.
And I know she will make me pay for every single ounce of pride she just had to swallow.