"... " Sidney's lips still tingled, the sensation of his kiss lingering on them.
Jayson lazily sat back in his original position, one hand propping his head, looking as though nothing had just happened. He focused on the music, which echoed beautifully in the well-decorated entertainment room. This was the top floor of the villa, where an attic once stood. Jayson had converted it into an open space, and the glass roof above offered a stunning view of the night sky. On clear autumn evenings, the stars and moon were still visible from this suburban retreat.
Sidney wiped her lips with the back of her hand again, then picked up her wine glass and drank it all in one go.
That's right, she wasn't trying to taste the wine; she wanted to drink a bit more, hoping it would give her the courage to say what she needed to say next.
"The way you drink, you'll probably only need cheap wine from now on," Jayson sneered, grabbing the remote and switching to the next song.
The sound of the piano flowed softly through the air, a melancholic yet anxious tone. She picked up the album cover from the table, and the track playing was "The Death Waltz." The word "death" sent a shiver through her heart, and the more she listened to the song, the more uneasy she felt. Wiping her sweaty palms on her nightgown, she reached for the remote on the sofa and turned down the volume.
"I have something to say to you."
He glanced at her without saying anything, as if waiting for her to speak. She swallowed hard, "M-my mother was someone else's mistress." After she finished speaking, she turned her gaze to him. He was still sitting there, propping his head with his hand, his expression as unreadable as before.
It wasn't until I was ten years old that I realized my father was someone else's father. That's when I understood why my mother would drink alone and cry secretly in the dead of night. When I was eleven," she paused, took a deep breath, biting her lip and furrowing her brow. After a moment, she continued, "My father wanted to take me away, pay my mother some money, and cut ties with her, telling her to leave and never return. Neither of us wanted that. But then Shelby came into the picture. It was the first time I saw such a graceful woman, wearing a designer suit, high heels, and meticulously manicured nails. Yet her heart was so venomous. She had people attack my mother, beating and trampling her before forcing her to leave. Meanwhile, I hid behind the sofa, too frightened to move. As she recounted the events, she shuddered, a sudden coldness washing over her. She rubbed her arms vigorously, as if trying to shake off the memory, and hung her head, too afraid to look at him.
"One day, it was my birthday. Dad didn't come. In past years, he always celebrated with me. That day, I was so excited and kept nagging Mom to go out and buy fried chicken. I was too happy to notice anything was off. She said she needed to take a shower first and asked me to wait. I waited for what felt like forever—way longer than her usual showers—before I finally opened the door to check on her. The bathroom light was off. When I turned it on, I saw her in the bathtub, surrounded by blood." She drew in a deep breath, pulling her arms even tighter around her body. As she spoke, her voice shook, and she could feel the familiar fear creeping back. Reliving those moments always brought her to the edge of breaking down, flooding her with grief and anxiety.
"Later, she died, and no one came to claim her body. It wasn't until Dad sent people that they took her away in a cheap, battered coffin... As I grew older, I understood the importance of a proper funeral, but they refused to give her one. The next day, my aunt arrived and told me to move out. She arranged for someone to adopt me, telling me to get as far away as possible because she blamed my mother for turning her home into a place haunted by tragedy. She kept berating me, and I found myself frantically kneeling on the ground, begging her to give my mother a proper funeral, pleading with her to bury her with dignity. I didn't know what else to do—only beg her! But she and Jayson just watched coldly as I knocked my head against the floor, mocking me with cruel words and laughter. In my anger and despair..."
Tears of regret dripped onto her pajama pants, soaking a large area as she struggled to speak through her sobs. "She was standing by the railing on the second-floor balcony," she managed to say, her voice breaking. "In that moment of rage... I pushed her. I pushed her so hard she fell..."
Apart from Alondra, who had been her confidante, this was the first time she had shared the truth with anyone else.
Jayson watched her for a moment, took a sip of wine, and then passed the glass to her. "Here," he said softly, encouraging her to take a drink. Sidney accepted the glass and finished the wine in one swift motion, then wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed from tears.
He looked inscrutable, raking a hand through his hair before finally saying, "So you feel guilty and believe you owe them something, which is why you let them treat you with contempt and threats, seeing your marriage to me as a way to atone for your perceived wrongs?"
Sidney was crying so hard she couldn't speak. She coughed twice, then hoarsely said, "Shelby didn't call the police on me. She didn't tell anyone I pushed her. Even Sanaa kept quiet. While Shelby was in the hospital, she arranged my mother's funeral and adopted me, but she ended up paralyzed and has to use a wheelchair. They never mentioned what happened that day, but when I was moving out, I found the letter my mother left me!" She became more agitated as she spoke, "Why was I so stupid not to see the letter until then?"
"Did the letter say you shouldn't feel resentment or blame others, that everything is her fault, and that you should just accept your fate and go along with what the family has planned?"
Sidney widened her eyes in disbelief and stared at him.
"Miss Sidney, I can already guess the rest of the story. Could you stop being so clueless? Is this how she controlled you for over a decade?"
"I didn't know where else to go. With all the guilt, I had no choice but to do this."
"Ha! Even if they did call the police, so what? Regardless of your stance, she wouldn't have pressed charges. Your family, so concerned with maintaining their image and social standing, would rather keep things quiet and let the issue fester internally. I can't believe someone who graduated from such a prestigious university would think otherwise!" Jayson found another comfortable position and continued lying down.
Sidney wiped her face with her sleeve, wiping away the mess of tears and snot. She heard Jayson casually say, "I can clean up the mess with the Calderon family for you, but I have conditions."
Sidney looked at him, waiting for him to continue.
"First, I'll handle this matter on my own, and you won't interfere. Second, I want you to be completely mine, without thinking about atonement or leaving. Unless I decide I don't want you, you can't leave me."
Sidney replayed his words in her mind over and over. She felt his request was reasonable, and she had no reason to refuse. She nodded, indicating her agreement.
"Very good, come here!"
Sidney moved closer and settled beside her, then drew her into his arms so she was resting against his chest. He ran his fingers through her long hair, soothing her until she felt almost ready to fall asleep. Finally, he murmured, "I can shield you from everything, if you want me to. It's up to you."
She nodded against his chest, her arms tightly wrapped around him. If he were the devil, she would still be willing.
