Chapter 4 - Poisoned Sweaters
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Minutes after David slipped out through the side exit, the heavy basement door opened for a third time.
The sharp, rhythmic click of designer heels echoed across the concrete floor.
"Sister?" a soft, mocking voice called out.
Maya Lawson stepped into the dim light wearing a spotless, pale-yellow cashmere sweater, accompanied by two house maids. She carefully stepped around the dark pool of my dried blood on the floor and crouched down beside me.
"How are you holding up?" Maya asked sweetly, tilting her head with fake concern. "I practically begged Julian to let me check on you."
I lay there, staring at her through my swollen, bruised eyes, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response.
Maya leaned closer, close enough for me to smell her expensive floral perfume—the same perfume Julian had bought her for her birthday.
"Tell me, Victoria..." she whispered directly into my ear, her voice dripping with malice. "How does it feel to be beaten like a dog for three straight hours in your own home?"
I looked at her pretty, cruel face. She expected me to cry, to beg, or to curse her.
Instead, I smiled.
It was barely a twitch of my lips, but it was enough to catch her off guard. Her sweet smile faltered, and her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What's so funny?" she demanded.
"You," I whispered raspy. "Standing this close when you have no idea what Julian has done—or what he plans to do to you when you're no longer useful."
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Maya’s fingers tightened around the soft sleeve of her cashmere sweater. "Shut up! He loves me! He gave me everything that used to be yours!"
"Julian doesn't love anyone, Maya," I said softly, feeling my pulse steady despite the physical agony. "He collects leverage. And once he has what he wants, he discards it."
