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⊰ 20 ⊱ A Room Full of Lies
The world feels hazy as Alessandra and I step into the mansion, the warm glow of lights and the sound of laughter washing over me like a distant dream. It’s surreal, being back here, surrounded by the trappings of a life that feels like it belongs to someone else now—someone who still had hope, who still believed in happily ever afters.
As we approach the front steps, my eyes land on the familiar men—Amado and Miguel—standing guard. From behind them, Frank emerges, making his way to Alessandra’s car to retrieve the shopping bags. He walks past us, his eyes briefly meeting mine as he asks, “Everything okay, ma’am?”
I force a smile, the muscles of my face feeling stiff and unnatural. “Everything’s fine, Frank. Thank you.”
He nods, but I can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes as we continue our way past Amado and Miguel, into the main entrance hall.
Marcel is waiting for us, his dark eyes immediately locking onto me. For a moment, I’m ter
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⊰ Marcel ⊱ Guilt gnaws at my insides, a lingering presence that never seems to leave my side anymore. It’s there when I close my eyes, haunting my dreams with visions of Mercy’s beaten body, her pain-filled cries. It’s there when I wake, a heavy weight on my chest that makes it hard to breathe. I failed her. I failed our child. The thought is a knife to the heart, twisting deeper with every passing moment. I should have protected her, should have kept her safe. But I didn’t. And now, she’s paying the price for my failure. The worst part is that they aren’t the only ones. Mercy and our unborn child weren’t the only ones I failed that day. As I sit here, on the sofa, holding a glass of scotch in my hand as I eye her small form laying on our bed sound asleep, my mind drifts back to the day before. It was just yesterday morning that Alessandra stopped by to drop off Mercy’s medication. I walked toward my b
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It’s gotten easier. Since that day on the balcony, three weeks ago, I’ve spent a lot of time doing some self-reflecting. In that time, I’ve tried to get a sense of normalcy back, despite the occasional nightmares. Even so, instead of trying to bury my trauma or numb it out in the most detrimental of ways, I took up baking, reading, working out, and occasionally slipping into the lab to work with the engineers. It’s a strange thing, to be helping others with the skills that have caused so much destruction, yet all at once, it’s fascinating. I’m now more than ever intrigued by the world of engineering, and I’m starting to think I chose the wrong field to study. This is so much cooler. “Alright,” I breathe out as I set down the tablet on the lab table, glancing up at Ben and Pablo. “I should probably get going.” Pablo nods half-heartedly, his gaze fixated on the circuit board in front of him as he carefully shifts the wires on it. “Alway
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Sam’s expression doesn’t waver, his gaze steady as he leans back in his chair. “I told you, Mrs. Saldívar. Your husband sent me.” I shake my head, my heart racing. “No. No, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you want me to tell them everything? Isn’t that theoppositeof what you’re supposed to do?” A small smirk plays at the corner of Sam’s mouth. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. With a few taps, he slides it across the table to me. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” I stare at the phone for a moment, hesitating. Then, with a shaky hand, I pick it up, bringing it to my ear. “H-hello?” “Mercy.” Marcel’s deep and familiar voice resonates through the small speaker, washing over me. “Are you okay?” At the sound of his voice, something inside me breaks. “No!” I cry, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling over. “No, I’m not okay! Marcel, they have Levi. They’re saying they’ll put him away. And they
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The leather seat squeaks as I shift, the only sound breaking the heavy silence through the suffocating tension in the air as we speed down the highway. I sit in the back seat, my hands clasped tightly in my lap as I watch Marcel out of the corner of my eye. He sits beside me, exuding an air of restraint, his features tight and his gaze intense. In the front seats, Rick and Frank sit rigidly, their eyes fixed straight ahead. They had been waiting for me outside the detention center, ushering me into the car as Marcel spoke with Sam before he walked back into the building, likely to tend to Levi’s situation. Marcel hasn’t said anything. Not about what happened with me and not about Levi, and frankly, I can’t take the silence anymore. “What’s going to happen to Levi?” I ask, my voice small. Marcel doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on his phone as he texts God knows who. “I’m taking care of it,” he says, his tone clipped. Why does he seem so
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