Each word sharper than the last—like knives thrown by strangers who’ve never even met me, but think they know exactly who I am. And my personal favorite:Rot in hell.
Every picture of mine turned into a battlefield.
I had to disable comments on Instagram, but they just kept going back to my old posts to talk shit anyway. And my DMs? A complete nightmare. Full of insults, threats, and long moral lectures, probably from a bunch of suburban housewives who can’t keep their own husbands interested.
“Get a hobby,” I mumble, tossing the phone aside. “Or better yet,get laid.”
The mirror catches my reflection again as I wipe away the last traces of foundation. Without makeup, I look paler, more fragile. Good.
I glance out the window just in time to see my aunt and cousin getting into my aunt’s car, pulling out of the driveway. My shoulders relax in relief. It will be easier to talk to Uncle Thomas alone, without their moral interference breathing down my neck.
I smooth down a few strands of hair and check my reflection one last time—just the right amount of exhaustion, a little bit of vulnerability.
I take a deep breath as I prepare for the conversation. He has never said no to me. I hope this won’t be the first time.
The truth is, I need money. The article didn’t come cheap. I paid a decent amount to make sure it got published. Because as well known as Colin is in the financial world, and with all the recognition Montgomery Clifford has in the media, his private life isn’t exactly the kind of thing that draws clicks. Not unless someone gives it a little push.
And all of that for something that stayed online for only a few hours.
The asshole I made the deal with said the order to take it down came from above, that there was nothing he could do.
And lately, I’ve made a few “investments” that didn’t exactly work out in my favor. Not the way I expected them to actually pay off.
As I start down the stairs, that same old nostalgia hits me. It’s always the same when I come back to this house. Especially this time of year.
No matter how much I’ve grown, no matter how hard I’ve fought to get what I want, walking down this staircase always makes me feel like her again. The lost little girl who had her entire world ripped away overnight.
But not this time.
Uncle Thomas is in the library, standing in front of the tall window, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the same brand he’s been drinking for as long as I can remember. The amber liquid catches the light from the lamp, warm against the gray outside.
I walk in quietly, my bare feet sinking into the rug.
He doesn’t turn, but I see his shoulders tense before he lets out a weary sigh.
“Your aunt and cousin just left,” he says, his tone even but tired. “Probably for the best. Otherwise, we’d be in for another round of matching screams.”
He’s not wrong.
When I arrived yesterday, my aunt and cousin didn’t waste a single minute before ambushing me with their questions—their judgment. I gave them the same story I gave Colin. That I didn’t know what happened, that I would never risk exposing us like that.
Uncle Thomas had defended me, his voice firm but calm, while they accused and whispered. The argument went on for a while, but I’d stopped listening after the first ten minutes. Let them talk. People always do.
“I'm sorry, Uncle Thomas,” I say, taking another cautious step closer. “I’d never do anything to embarrass you. You know that, right?”
He turns slightly, his expression gentler now, yet shadowed with disappointment. “Promise me something, Maya.”
“Anything.”
“Tell me you didn’t know who he was when you took that job.”
My heart gives a quick, nervous jump, but my face doesn’t show it. I lower my voice to a whisper.
“I swear, I didn’t. I didn’t know until it was too late. And by then...” I let the words trail off. “By then, I was already in love with him.”
He exhales, long and heavy, then sets the glass down on the desk beside him. His hand reaches up, hesitating for a moment before brushing my cheek. His touch is gentle, fatherly—almost enough to make me feel something close to guilt.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve already been through enough, my child,” he says. “You’re young. You’ll fall in love again. You’re smart. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you. Don’t let this destroy it.”
