by Mason, V. F.
It should have been the first sign for me that this place sucked.
Their little princess got everything, but on most days, they let me be, so I withstood Lucy’s occasional outbursts.
Martina’s voice brings me back to the present. “Well I thought maybe you’d want to travel for a bit, have fun, instead of rushing into a degree program. You have all the time in the world.”
And rely on them financially longer than necessary? Yeah, no thanks.
The elevator in the penthouse dings loudly before I can comment on her last statement, and Lucy rushes inside, tears streaming down her face, her private school uniform smeared in dirt. “Mommy!” she cries out and goes straight to Martina.
She hugs her close, worriedly asking, “What’s going on?”
Danika comes out too, with tissues in hand and a glass of water for her as Lucy continues to cry uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. I join them on the couch and rub her back soothingly, wondering what happened to her in school.
Everyone loves her; she is the darling of that private school. So the idea that someone hurt her there is… weird.
She is followed by Dad, who is furious and barks at Danika, “Stay in the fucking kitchen.” She runs away, while he throws his leather case on the floor and shouts, sending fear through my entire system. “Who the hell do you think you are?” His gaze is glued on Lucy, who burrows her head deeper into Martina’s embrace, while Dad bellows again, “Answer me!”
“What did she do, Marvin?” Dread laces Martina’s voice, and Dad laughs, the bitter sound of it reverberating off the walls.
“She smoked pot in her school, right under the principal’s office,” he replies, and Martina gasps and my eyes widen, glancing at Lucy, who still avoids my gaze. “Right when I’m about to start my campaign, my fifteen-year-old daughter smokes pot!” he screams and comes closer, grabbing her arm and causing her to yelp loudly. “What were you thinking?” He shakes her and her teeth snap, but she stays silent, only crying harder.
“Maybe it wasn’t hers. Maybe someone else did it.” Martina twists her pearls between her fingers, swallowing harshly while also pressing her back to the couch. Clearly, she doesn’t want to get in the middle of this argument if it means facing Dad’s wrath.
“Oh, it’s hers. I had to promise a new basketball court to the school so the principal keeps it quiet and off the records.”
Dad shakes Lucy again, barking, “Stop crying. Tell me where you got the pot.”
She turns her face, her lips sealed, but I already know the answer to that question. Peter, her boyfriend, always seems high with his glassy eyes and a face that looks like he doesn’t have a clue. Not to mention he always has some kind of problem that requires money from Lucy.
Problems, my ass. More like an addiction and a rich girlfriend to pay for it. Lucy should be happy pot is the only thing they found; I’m sure he uses something stronger too.
“It’s the boyfriend, isn’t it?” Dad asks, and pushes Lucy onto the couch where she lands with a loud thud. “Peter will be out of your life.”
“No, Daddy!” she exclaims, speaking out for the first time, and then whimpers, “It’s not him.”
“Then who?” The way Dad forms the question and crosses his arms clues me in that he already has come to a decision. For the first time in a while, I agree with it, because that boy is bad news.
“Giselle,” she answers, and I freeze at her uttering my name and raise my eyes to her, shocked. “Giselle gave it to me. She had it. I kept it for her.” She wipes away her tears while pleading with me silently to agree with her lie, to accept once again one of her faults as my own.
She learned this habit quickly once I started living here. Lucy is spoiled to the core, and I’m the perfect outlet to dish the blame on.
But I won’t take the blame for this one. No freaking way!
“I didn’t do it—” I start, but Dad already fists my hair in his hand and pulls me up while I groan in pain.
“You,” he seethes into my face and then angles my head so I can meet his stare full of fury and hatred. “You gave her the pot that could have jeopardized my political career?”
“It’s not mine.” But it’s like he doesn’t even hear me, because he continues to spout blow after blow at me.
“Of course, your fascination with stupid nature. You can probably create it yourself.” This doesn’t even make sense, but Dad doesn’t care as he pulls my hair harder, sending prickles of pain through my scalp. “Instead of being grateful that I accepted you into my family…. You, a maid’s daughter.” He spits the last phrase as if I’m dirt under his nails. “And this is how you repay me?”
I hate how sorrow travels through me, allowing the sting of his words to sink into my bones and remind me of my place here. I hate how I have the desire to run away and hide somewhere, away from this world that’s never accepted me as theirs.
Because here, I always have to either be very good or be invisible to survive, all because my mom happened to be a maid. “I’ve never seen it. Lucy, tell him,” I beg her, but she tugs on her skirt, gazing down as if nothing is happening.
How can she be so cruel?
“She never had issues at school before we took you in. First, the homework, then the car, stealing alcohol, and now you almost jeopardize our future because you brought pot?”
“Marvin, I think we need time to—”
He doesn’t much care for what Martina has to say though. Instead, he spins around, his hold still firm in my hair as he drags me toward the elevator. “Since it’s Friday, let’s take you to your grandfather dearest, shall we? He’ll be thrilled to know about this.”
At this, fear penetrates me, air leaves my lungs, and I plead, “Dad, don’t.”
As furious as he is now, it’s nothing compared to my grandfather, to whom the family name means everything.
And those who tarnish it in any way?
Deserve nothing but punishment.
* * *
I sit on the rusty concrete floor surrounded by complete silence. My back is pressed against the wall despite the pain vibrating in every cell of my body after the beating Grandfather inflicted on me.
With his favorite weapon… the cane that always has the ability to bruise my skin in places no one will see.
Like my back, my legs, my stomach.
With each hit, he bellowed at me that I was a disappointment to him and smeared the Walker name in the dirt and dishonored generations of ancestors. All while he inflicted punishment on me in his office.
I learned from a young age that cries of help or begging doesn’t help with him; you just need to accept it and live through it. Eventually, he always stops, as he doesn’t have the strength, or his fury fades.
Today though, it lasted for thirty long minutes while he promised me that I would pay for it. He wouldn’t allow me to study for a landscape design degree, and I would study law like every Walker should.
After he was done beating me, he ordered his guards to take me to the cold pantry, which had nothing but disgusting smells inside. They closed the door and kept me completely in the dark. Back when I was a child… a scarier place didn’t exist for me.
Oddly now, I find peace in it, because all those people can’t touch me here.
I will be here for seventeen hours. Grandfather always adjusts the time frame to my age, but this time when I’m out… everything will change.
Because this time I won’t allow them to hurt me any longer.
I stayed for so long because I thought eventually they would love me or accept me. But when I don’t live by their rules, they don’t need me.
Don’t love me, will never be able to love me.
So what’s the point of suffering if the outcome is the same?
In this moment, I don’t know that fate has a funny way of knocking you on your ass when you least expect it.
Giselle
“Here’s to the happy couple, Kevin and Lucy. I couldn’t be prouder bein
g your father,” Dad announces to the crowded room, and everyone sighs, while Lucy’s loud squeal bounces off the walls.
She drags Kevin onto the stage, her heels clicking loudly on the shiny marble that glistens under the crystal chandelier, and she claps her hands. “Daddy!” she shouts, hugging him close, and he returns the embrace, making sure to shift them right into the view of the camera as the photographer snaps a photo.
Geez, Dad uses everything for this campaign. Desperate much?
The waiter passes me, and I quickly grab a glass from the tray. “Just keep them coming, darling,” I inform him, and he blinks in surprise then looks over my shoulder and back at me, nodding.
Frowning, I look back but find no one but a bunch of gossiping women, probably going on about Lucy’s dress.
Whatever.
Taking a large sip, I almost moan at the cold liquid sliding down my throat and salute the happy couple before sipping again.
Coming here was worth it for this expensive champagne alone.
But then, everything for their little princess.
Sip. Sip. Sip.
“Giselle,” the soft voice calls me, and I grin at my stepmother, who hugs me close then kisses me two times on the cheek, which is more like a butterfly touch. “My darling, I’m so happy to see you here.”
“Of course. How could I have missed such an evening?” My mouth spreads in a smile so wide I’m afraid it might burst at any moment.
She sighs, rubbing my arm. “I know it must be hard for you, but I think it worked out for the best.”
“You do?” I ask, even though I don’t give a fuck.
“Lucy and Kevin are perfect for each other. You guys never had that—” She clicks her fingers a few times before pointing one at me. “—spark between you. It’s destiny.”
I snort into my drink but cover it up with a cough, wanting nothing more than to scream at her to wake up. Maybe if she weren’t the kind of mother who found everything about her child amusing, none of this would have happened. Lucy has never had to face the consequences of her actions, and I played right along with them.
“Right.” I finish the drink and snatch another one from a new tray before saying to her, “I need some fresh air.” The last thing I want is to watch Lucy show off her ring and kiss the living shit out of Kevin.
Slowly, always freaking keeping my smile intact, I walk to the balcony door opening onto the terrace and admire the beauty around me.
At least, I pretend to.
My heels click loudly while my silky, navy blue dress hugs me so tight I wonder how I still breathe. The long, strapless dress, which brings out my eyes, showed up on my doorstep with a deliveryman three hours before the event.
Even silver shoes and a matching bag accompanied it.
The package didn’t have a note, but I didn’t have to guess. Grandfather made sure I didn’t show up wearing something boring or not expensive enough.
I resisted shredding the thing because it’s an expensive design belonging to Frankie’s Dream. Destroying such a dress would have been a crime.
Finally outside, I breathe in the smell of freshly cut grass and relax a little, the familiar environment swirling around me like a cocoon.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Grandfather is preoccupied with the current mayor, so he won’t notice my disappearance. Quickly, I stroll down the stairs leading into the garden, longing to brush my toes over the grass and neatly done concrete, but I resist the urge.
If a photographer should be walking around here and notice me barefoot with a glass in hand… yeah, I can imagine the headlines already.
Drunk and heartbroken Giselle Walker strolls through the garden.
I snort into my glass, because heartbroken so doesn’t fit me. With all the preparation for this party, I came to the realization that while I loved the idea of marrying a perfect guy like Kevin, I was never really in love with him. We didn’t have passion between us—one of the reasons I was never tempted to sleep with him.
The reason he received a yes to his question was simple. He never would’ve had the ability to hurt me, and had he cheated on me with anyone but my sister, I wouldn’t have cared.
Angry and annoyed? Yes.
But my heart would have been out of it.
“Which is tragic in itself,” I murmur and then frown, noticing a bench with cattleya orchids tilted a little, which has resulted in them being stepped on. “My poor things.” I’ve poured so much soul into Grandfather’s mansion, where the party is happening, and his people can’t even check if everything runs smoothly in it?
I touch the petals softly, wincing at their crumpled state. “Ah, my darling. I’m going to fix you.” I tilt the orchid to the side, removing a pin from my hair and attaching it to the top of the bench, which allows the orchid to dangle freely, without reaching the ground. Then I push on the bench, wanting to put it in the right position, but it doesn’t budge.
Huffing in exasperation, I press my knee against the bench and push on the back of it again, but still nothing.
Puffing into my brown locks, I breathe heavily and search for a solution, when a shadow looms above me.
Blinking a few times, my eyes travel up, up, up until they settle on the most handsome yet dangerous-appearing face, if such a combination is possible.
And my heart stills for a moment, when all I can do is stare at this stranger who has suddenly shown up.
He is wearing a tuxedo that perfectly emphasizes his wide shoulders and every rigid muscle. The white shirt brings attention to his tanned skin while the bow tie on his neck lures one to check out his face with flawless cheekbones and mesmerizing brown eyes that remind me of cymbidium orchids, holding so many secrets and emotions that I can’t catch. Despite him wearing elegant attire, a five-o’clock shadow highlights his face while his darkish-brown hair is pulled into a man bun. Although I think his hair is only slightly longer than the lobes of his ears.
I see a tattoo peeking out of his collar, barely visible, the shape unclear. He is so tall, probably around six foot five, since he seems taller than Kevin, and I have to crane my neck to meet his stare head-on.
All in all, he reminds me of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, because under this elegant attire hides a dangerous fire, judging by the sinister smile curving his mouth. “Need help?” he asks, his voice washing over me like the softest of silk, sliding over my skin and alerting every sense.
Instinctively, I rub my arms, my brows furrowing at the familiarity of it. I’ve heard it before, but where?
“No, I’ll handle it,” I reply idiotically, and place my hands on the back of the bench again, ready to push, but his deep chuckle stops me.
“Yeah, I don’t think you need to try a third time.” With that, he bends down, grabs the end of the seat, and lifts it up, adjusting it in the air before putting it back on the concrete in the right position. “There, all done.”
“Thank you,” I say and shift awkwardly, not knowing what to say. I’m usually not shy with strangers. It comes with the job, especially when I interned in a florist shop where I created different bouquets for people daily. They tended to chat about their special occasions or their lives.
But somehow, the sheer presence of this man unsettles something inside me, and I want to escape his company as soon as possible.
“So what’s a beautiful woman doing out here?” he asks, placing his hands in his pockets, zeroing his whole focus on me, and my cheeks heat up from the intensity of it.
I think I drank too much; what else explains these high school reactions to some strange dude? Any minute now, I’ll be shouting it’s love at first sight.
A slight smile pulls at my lips at the thought, and his voice brings me back to the present again. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Fixing gardens,” I reply, picking up my glass from the concrete. “The orchids were stuck, so—”
“You needed to rescue them?” he supplies, warmth filling his tone, and I frown, not expecting it
.
This man will give me whiplash. “Well, yes. They are my babies, after all.” I cover my mouth with my palm, groaning inwardly at this ridiculous choice of words.
He lifts his brow. “Care to elaborate?”
“I designed and nurtured this garden.”
“Really?”
I bristle at his patronizing, or rather mocking, tone, not appreciating that he apparently finds the idea laughable. “Yes.”
“Retract the claws, darling. You are just so young to take on such a huge project.”
Now we are suddenly talking about my age? Besides, he seems only a little bit older than me, so he has no room to talk.
He looks around, admiring the garden. “Great job though.” The way he says it, with a completely straight face and matter-of-factly, brings me joy, because I know he means it.
And given the fact that not many people witness my work or know I can design like this—since I haven’t had any important projects on my own—it means the world that I can share this beauty with someone.
Even if it’s a hot stranger who confuses my mind.
“My grandfather wanted me home from school all the time, not allowing me to mingle with friends, so designing this garden was my only salvation.” The minute the words slip past my lips, they register in my head. What the hell am I doing? I’ve never in my life shared this tidbit of information with anybody.
“Sometimes we find salvation in our pain or talent. Although at some point in life, those two entwine.” Indifference laces his tone, yet I can’t help but feel the emotion behind the words.
And they hit home, since I always cried myself to sleep when everyone else got to go to the movies or form bonds… while I was locked away in the castle.
“But beauty flourishes from those too,” I say, licking my lips, and his gaze shifts to them as my cheeks heat up. He steps closer, and my breath hitches for a second, anticipating his next action, but he just moves the dangling lock from my face to behind my ear.
“Indeed.”
I take a large sip from my glass, hoping the cold champagne can cool my alert body that is acting insane. How is it possible to have such a strong reaction to a stranger?
