Abigail
The sound of a car woke me up, and I realized I had fallen asleep amidst a pile of documents. Lately, I’ve been getting sleepier and sleepier, probably because of the chaos at home. I’ve been busy taking over the burdens Conrad, my husband, has been carrying, hoping he’ll stop looking so troubled all the time.
Looking out the window, I saw Conrad's car pull up. After getting out from the driver’s seat, he bent down to open the door for the passenger side. A woman stepped out and walked into the house. I couldn’t see the woman’s face from the window as it was hidden by her hat. Filled with curiosity, I went downstairs to greet them.
As I came down to the bottom and moved toward the foyer, I couldn’t see who it was at first, only Conrad by the doorway, his head bent as he spoke to the woman just beyond my view. I couldn’t make out her words, but the voice was familiar. He was smiling—a smile so wide and bright it made me pause. I took a step closer, and that’s when she came into view, turning toward me with familiar grey eyes and delicate brown hair.
It was my widowed sister-in-law, Susanna.
She glanced at me with a smile, then turned back to continue joking with Conrad. She’d been staying over on and off since the news of her husband Alexander’s plane crash came through, but lately, her presence seemed to always be constant around everything that was mine – my life, my home, my husband.
“Abigail, Susanna will be staying with us,” Conrad said, looking at Susanna.
An odd sensation settled in my chest as Susanna shyly replied,“I hope this isn’t too much trouble for you…”
Conrad did not hesitate. “No, no, it’s not a bother at all,” he assured her, holding her suitcase with one hand. “You shouldn’t be alone. How could I possibly leave you alone in that house full of sad memories, especially when you're pregnant?” He turned to me, his voice filled with expectation. “You feel the same way, don’t you, Abigail?”
Any words I could manage felt so small compared to this decision that had already been made without even asking me. I wanted to say yes, that I understood, that I agreed Susanna shouldn’t be alone. But an unease that flared up stopped me despite my attempts to push it away.
“Of course, Conrad,” I said, schooling my voice into a gentle tone. “Whatever’s best for Susanna.”
Conrad’s expression softened, but almost immediately, his attention returned to Susanna. “Abigail doesn’t have much to do around here anyway. She was just looking for something to keep herself busy.”
I felt my stomach tighten as his words landed with a sting, but I managed a polite nod as Susanna thanked me. I knew Conrad didn’t mean it to sound hurtful, yet the casual dismissal of everything I’d been doing—the house, his work, his life—still stung me.
I watched Conrad set Susanna’s bag down, willing myself to shake off the unease. It was natural to help her. This was only temporary, just until she found her footing again.
Yet, as time passed, Susanna’s stay felt anything but temporary. I tried to be understanding. I told myself it was because she was dealing with a grief I could only imagine, but as weeks went by, the little things started to feel… wrong.
Conrad, who used to spend hours in his study working, now seemed to devote his time to Susanna. He checked in on her constantly, offering to prepare her meals and sit with her late into the evening.
Every room I entered, she was there—her voice soft as she asked Conrad for help with one thing or another. And Conrad… he responded to her every request with such attentiveness. And while I knew it was simply his good nature, a part of me felt increasingly out of place in my own home.
Each day blurred into the next, and Susanna was ever present. It was as if she sensed when I wanted to be alone with Conrad, always managing to pull him away just in time. And if she wasn’t hovering, she was barking orders at me, making me run after her like a servant.
"I want a fruit platter, Abigail," she would say, pushing aside the fresh fruit I had given her earlier.
"Actually, this fruit platter looks so ugly. Is this the kind you usually make for Conrad?"
I swallowed my pride each time, reminding myself that Susanna was grieving. But during this time, Susanna made it her mission to share her opinions on every piece of furniture, the decor of my rooms and the food in my home, not to mention her comments about me. But it was becoming unbearable, and it was tiring to keep tolerating her attitude. I had to take care of my sick family, while also trying to handle company matters to help Conrad. Yes, she was a pregnant woman who had lost her husband, but that didn’t mean I should be treated like a dumping ground.
I was on my way to the living room, wanting to grab a book I had been meaning to finish. But, any small hope of peace was interrupted by Susanna, who was perched on the sofa, an empty plate beside her. She barely glanced my way before nodding toward the plate, gesturing as if I were some servant she could order around.
“Abigail,” she said, her tone casual. “I need more fruit. And make sure there are plenty of apples and oranges. I can’t stand grapes today.”
For a second, I simply stared at her.
Weeks ago, I might have bit my tongue and quietly prepared the new fruit platter. But I also needed rest. And I was tired of bending over backward to accommodate her endless whims.
“Susanna, perhaps you could handle these small tasks yourself?” I said, keeping my voice as gentle as I could manage.
She stared at me, before giving a scoff. “Are you really suggesting,” she said, her voice dripping with disbelief, “that I, a pregnant woman, should get up and serve myself?”
I forced myself to keep calm. “If you’re feeling so weak, Susanna, maybe it’s time to think about going to the hospital. It might be better for you there than overstaying in someone else’s home.”
The words slipped out before I could think twice, but I didn’t regret them.
For a brief second, I saw a flicker of something in her eye. Before I could react, she picked up the empty plate and slammed it onto the floor. The sharp sound of shattering ceramic echoed, and I felt pain in my leg as the fragments exploded at my feet, cutting me.
“Susanna!” I gasped, my eyes widening. “What are you trying to do?”
But she didn’t answer me. She began to wail, clutching her hands to her chest. Her sobs filled the room, each one louder than the last. “I know I’m a burden, Abigail,” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as she fell to her knees. “But I promise, I’ll try harder. Please, don’t send me away…”
I stood there, completely taken aback. How could she be so hostile one moment and then collapse into this mess? Her act wouldn’t fool me—but just as I opened my mouth to tell her, a familiar voice cut through the room.
“Who dares to send you away?”
Conrad’s voice was sharp with authority. As if on cue, Susanna stumbled backward and Conrad rushed forward, catching her before she could hit the ground.
“Susanna,” he said, patting her back as she continued to weep. “Are you alright?”
She shuddered and lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I’m fine, Conrad. It was all my fault. I just asked Abigail for some help, and maybe she thought I was asking too much. She must be…tired of having me here. And…I don’t blame her. I must seem so weak—”
I watched in disbelief as he guided her to the sofa, and I couldn’t help the sharp pang of pain that stabbed through me. He had barely looked at me, hadn’t even noticed that I was injured.
Conrad finally looked up at me, his eyes flashing with anger. “Abigail,” he said, his voice hard, “how could you?”
“Conrad, listen,” I began, my voice firm. “Susanna…she smashed the plate—”
But she cut me off, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Please, Abigail,” she whimpered, her voice so pitiful it would have fooled anyone who didn’t know better. “I know I’ve overstayed my welcome… It’s just that the stress has been… overwhelming. And if you truly wish for me to leave…I’ll go.”
Conrad gently wiped away her tears, looking at me with disappointment. “Just because of this? She’s pregnant, Abigail. Can’t you have a litttle compassion?”
“Compassion? Who?” I gestured helplessly at the broken shards of the plate scattered around me. “I was just trying to stand up for myself for once.” Things have become so absurd. “I didn’t force her to...”
But Conrad shook his head, cutting me off, his face set in a grim line. “Excuses. You should have been taking care of her, not treating her like this. I never imagined you’d stoop this low.”
His words were like a slap as I stood there, stunned. My throat felt tight, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as I tried to understand how he could believe her over me so easily.
Just as I was about to say something, the metallic taste hit my nose. My stomach twisted. I’d always had a problem with blood, and now, seeing it drip from my leg, I could feel the familiar chill creeping through me, stealing my strength.
My legs gave way uncontrollably, and new shards immediately embedded into my feet and knee. My vision started to blur, and my heartbeat was pounding in my ears, drowning out even the sounds of Susanna’s sobs.
"Hang on, I'll get a doctor," Conrad's voice came through, and I let out a sigh of relief.
"Susanna, don't be afraid, no one can hurt you," he said as he carried Susanna out. It turned out he wasn't talking to me after all, he hadn't even noticed that I was the one who needed help.
Susanna leaned out of Conrad’s arms, watching me struggle to keep my balance and avoid falling into the shards. I couldn’t see her expression clearly, but I’m sure it was a smile.
But right now, I wasn’t focused on her, I was focused on my husband, whose back was to me as he quickly walked away. I had told him how terrified I was of blood, how just seeing it made me lose control of my body and consciousness. Didn’t he see I was injured? He never looked back, not even as his figure disappeared. It must be bile spreading to my mouth, otherwise, why would it taste so bitter?
At that moment, it hit me harder than any wound. I was alone.
AbigailAs I sat there on the examination table, the sharp antiseptic scent in the hospital room pricked at my senses. The doctor asked me seriously, "Are you here alone?""Yes, my family, they’re all busy," I instinctively made an excuse for Conrad. Though the truth was, he and the family doctor were at home, tending to Susanna, who wasn’t even injured but wouldn’t stop crying. Their actions today hurt me more deeply than any shattered fragments. It made me feel that instead of staying there hoping for help, I might as well come to the hospital alone to take care of my wounds.The doctor glanced up, his brows knitting together as he took in my pale face and trembling hands. He’d been treating me in silence for a few minutes now, but I could sense his growing concern. He held my gaze with patience, waiting for me to take a breath and settle myself. “Are you all right?” His voice was soft as if he knew that just the act of being in the same room as this open wound was almost too much f
Abigail “What are you doing in here?” I asked sharply, my voice cutting through the quiet. Susanna held up one of my scarves against her arm, admiring it. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she said, waving a hand. “I’m just getting settled. I’ll be staying in this room.” I blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. “Excuse me?” Her grey eyes sparkled with amusement. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? You and Conrad need to be close if I need anything, and my room is so far down the hall. It’s just more convenient for everyone if I stay here.” My pulse quickened, anger rising swiftly. “This is our room. I and Conrad’s. You don’t just decide to move in without even asking.” Susanna smirked, unfazed by the heat in my voice. “I wasn’t asking. Conrad said I could stay here.” “Did he?” I said, my tone ice-cold. “I find that hard to believe.” Our voices rose, each word louder than the last, until the door creaked open behind us. Conrad entered the room, his expression wary as he took in the
AbigailMy stomach dropped. “What?” “Susanna fainted,” he said, his voice rising. “The doctors think it could be something she ate. She said it started after breakfast.” “You think I did something to her?” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “I’m not accusing you,” he said, though his tone didn’t fully match his words. “I just need to know if there was anything unusual in the food. Susanna’s health—”“Was fine when I left the house,” I interrupted sharply. “I made her an omelette. Eggs, cheese, a pinch of salt. Nothing unusual. The same thing I’ve made a hundred times before.” He sighed on the other end of the line, and I could almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Abigail. I just—” “Just what?” I interrupted. “I’m here at the hospital, dealing with my own recovery, and now I have to defend myself because Susanna fainted? You think I’d harm her?” There was a long pause, and for a moment, I thought he’d hung up. Finally, he sai
AbigailHis voice held a hint of tension, and I felt a rush of apprehension.“I—uh, I heard the phone ringing.” I said, my mind racing to think of how to play this off. I couldn’t let him know I’d seen my surprise. “It was so loud, and I thought the call might be important.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and I could see the tension in his posture. He stepped into the room, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “You shouldn’t have come in here, Abigail. You know how I feel about people being in this room without my permission.” He replied, his tone sharper than I expected.“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be a problem,” I replied. “You weren’t around, and it sounded urgent. It was about Alexander. I took the call. They have some leads, and I gave my permission for them to proceed.”The tension between us was thick as I stood there, waiting for Conrad’s response. His brow furrowed as if trying to choose the right words. But when he finally spoke, I felt my frustration boil over a
AbigailA surge of doubt and fear almost made me faint. What if the person in this painting was Susanna? We do look quite alike, but I’m sure the person in the painting is me. It’s identical to the poster from my first role, the one my mother keeps, and I see it every time I go home. But if it’s my painting, why would it be given to Susanna?Susanna’s tears fell in perfect little drops, and her voice trembled with just enough emotion to be convincing.“Every year, Alexander would do something special for my birthday,” she sniffled, clutching the bouquet like a lifeline. “Thank you, Conrad. I never thought... I never thought anyone could make me feel like that again. This makes me feel like he’s still with me.”My husband placed the roses into Susanna’s hands with a smile so warm, it burned. “Happy birthday, Susanna. I hope this reminds you of Alexander—of how much you’re loved.”She burst into delicate sobs, burying her face into the roses as if overcome with emotion. It was a picture-
AbigailMaybe it was because I had just heard his reasonable explanation and trusted him, or maybe I had a feeling there would be more reasons waiting for me. Either way, for the sake of the baby, my sleep was more important than where Conrad went. So, I turned and went straight to bed, deciding to leave the problem for tomorrow.By the time I got up, Conrad was already getting ready to leave.“Good morning,” Conrad stood by the mirror, adjusting his tie with practiced ease. His dark suit was crisp and perfectly tailored, the kind of sharpness that made it immediately obvious he was a man from a powerful family.“Morning,” I replied briefly, leaning against the doorframe, masking my unease with casual conversation. “Where were you last night?” I asked, my voice steady.His hands froze for the briefest second before he recovered quickly, smoothing the tie knot. “Working,” he said simply. “In the study.”I raised a brow, waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, as if to steer
AbigailI fastened the necklace around my neck, letting the cool metal rest against my collarbone as I studied my reflection. The earrings were already pinned to my ears. The jewelry Conrad had given me the night before sparkled in the morning light, a perfect complement to my plain dress. Despite everything, I wanted to feel put together, like myself. And this reminded me that above all else, my husband loves me.Stepping out of the bedroom, I barely made it a few steps before Susanna’s voice rang out, sickly sweet. “Oh, good morning, Abigail!”Her smile was bright, almost too bright, as her eyes flicked to the jewelry I wore. I gave her a polite nod, bracing for whatever comment she had prepared. “Morning, Susanna.”She tilted her head, an air of fake innocence about her. “Oh, that’s a lovely set you’re wearing. Did Conrad pick it out for you?”“Yes, he did,” I replied, unwilling to say any more.Her smile widened, but there was something predatory in it. “Speaking of jewelry, I can’
AbigailI walked away from my room with deliberate steps, my fingers still tingling from the anger I had suppressed during my conversation with Conrad. The gall of his request was enough to make my blood boil. Yet, I hadn’t allowed my voice to rise. I couldn’t.But it still echoed in my ears. Lend Susanna my jewelry? The set he’d just given me last night as a token of his appreciation? Did he even hear himself?“Abigail,” Conrad called after me, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he hurried to catch up. It followed me even as I tried to walk faster. His hand closed around my arm, halting my steps. “Wait.”“Don’t walk away like this,” he said, his brows knitted together. “What’s wrong with you today? Why are you making this such a big deal?”I turned to him slowly, keeping my face calm, though the fury simmering beneath threatened to boil over. “What’s wrong with me? Conrad, you just asked me to strip away what little respect I have left in this household and hand it over to your
Alexander The moment I pulled open the door hidden under the base of the statue of the Virgin Mary, the scent of decay hit me like a punch to the gut.No, that wasn’t quite right. I had smelled it the moment I stepped into the manor of the estate. That deep, cloying stench of something long past its time, something that should have been laid to rest but had been left to fester instead. But I had ignored it. Or rather, I had hoped, prayed even, that it was nothing more than the rot of an abandoned estate.I never thought we would find a body. But there she was.I barely had time to register the sight of the corpse before I heard Abigail’s sharp gasp behind me. I moved without thinking, shoving the door closed and stepping in front of it, using my body as a shield as if I could somehow erase what she had just seen. But it was too late.She had seen, and she knew. I didn’t need to hear her say it to understand. I had already reached the same conclusion—the same horrible, gut-wrenching
Abigail The man who had leaned against the statue stumbled back, waving away dust with one hand as he coughed. A thick cloud filled the air, and I instinctively raised my arm to cover my nose and mouth. The statue of the Virgin Mary had crumbled like a sandcastle, revealing something hidden under it. As the dust settled, Alexander stepped closer, his expression sharpening with concern and curiosity. Where the statue once stood, there was now a gaping hole, the jagged edges of stone framing what looked like a concealed door. The wood was so moldy and blackened with age that it barely looked like wood at all. There was no handle, just a small opening where fingers could slip in and pull. Alexander reached for it. Something in me screamed for him to stop. I don’t know why. Maybe I already knew, deep down, what was waiting behind that door. But he pulled it open anyway, grunting as a laboring creak filled the air. The first thing I noticed was the stench. It was putrid, suffocatin
Susanna I stirred awake to the sound of slow, rhythmic breathing beside me, the weight of an arm slung over my waist. My head felt thick with exhaustion, my limbs sore in ways I didn’t care to think about. For a long moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling of the garish motel room, the golden swirls on red wallpaper filling me with distaste. Where am I? The question drifted through my half-conscious mind before memory came rushing back, hitting me like a slap to the face. Oh. Right. Disgust twisted my expression. I shoved the arm off me, wincing at the soreness in my lower back as I sat up. The movement jostled the man beside me, and he made a groggy sound before blinking awake. He turned his head towards me, his lips stretching into a lazy, leering grin. "Mm," he hummed, eyes roaming over my body, shameless despite the crust of sleep still clinging to his lashes. "You haven’t lost your touch, sweetheart. If anything, you’re even better than before." I scowled, n
Abigail It had been hours since Alexander and I arrived at Ravenbrook, since I had first stepped into this decrepit house with my heart pounding and my hopes soaring against my better judgment. I had been so sure. After hearing Liam say the name, and seeing the terror on his face when he whispered it, I had believed with every part of me that my mother would be here. That I would find her at last. That all of this suffering, all of the waiting, all of the agonizing weeks spent wondering if she was alive or dead, had been leading to this moment. And yet, all I had to show for my hope was nothing. No signs of life. No whispers of her presence. No misplaced object, no forgotten article of clothing, no single trace that a woman who had once been the most important person in my world had ever been here at all. I had searched everywhere. The bedrooms, the bathrooms, the library, the study. I had torn through dusty closets, rummaged through abandoned drawers, even pressed my hand agai
Abigail The elevator ride down was silent. I barely registered the soft chime announcing each floor as we descended, nor the polished steel doors reflecting my pale face back at me. My mind was spinning, turning over the name Ravenbrook like a stone in my palm, searching for familiarity in its edges and weight. Where had I heard it before? It clung to me, refusing to let go, like a whisper just out of reach. Beside me, Alexander stood still, his hands in his pockets, but I could feel his gaze lingering on me. He was watching me closely. I wasn’t sure if it was concern or curiosity at my quietness, but I had no space in my mind to dwell on it. I could only focus on Ravenbrook. There was something stirring in my memory, faint but persistent. By the time we stepped into the hospital’s lobby and moved toward the parking lot, my hands had curled into fists. The answer was there. I could feel it. I slid into the passenger seat of Alexander’s car, fastening my seatbelt automatica
Abigail Liam moved closer, his shoulders shaking, his face wet with tears. His eyes were desperate as he reached out, trying to wrap his arms around me in an embrace. I turned my body away, just enough to avoid him. His arms hung in the air for a second before he let them drop. He sniffled loudly, his breath coming in short, unsteady bursts. I swallowed hard, forcing down the emotions rushing through me. “Liam,” I said quietly, my voice steadier than I expected. “That man you saw speaking with Marceline and Conrad, who was he?” Liam wiped his face roughly, blinking at me in confusion. “I told you already,” he mumbled. “I don’t know.” I didn’t believe him. Maybe he didn’t have a name, but Liam wasn’t stupid. He had spent time around Aaron, the man who had led him into this mess. There was no way he hadn’t overheard something, some kind of detail that could clue me in. I narrowed my eyes. “Liam, think.” He shook his head, his movements jerky. “I...I don’t know anything
Abigail I couldn't take it anymore. Everything Liam had said so far, every word, had been an excuse. I hadn’t wanted to say it, had tried to keep my emotions in check, but the words slipped past my lips before I could stop them. “All of this… all of it, Liam, is just you making excuses.” Liam’s eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected me to say that. But I couldn’t stop now. “You’ve told me about the gambling, the debts, the deals you made, but you still haven’t explained why you helped Susanna hurt me. Your own sister.” My voice shook with anger and hurt. “And what about Mom, Liam? You haven’t even mentioned her. Haven’t even said her name. Do you even care that we still don't know where she is?” I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling quickly. “And you haven’t even apologized,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not once.” Liam stared at me after my outburst, something dark and ugly flashing in his eyes. His hands clenched into fists. Then, in an instant, he
Abigail "I hope you mean that," Alexander said, taking a step towards the bed. Liam’s hands shook as he nodded, his fingers curling into the bedsheets. I held my breath, bracing myself, knowing whatever came next wouldn’t be easy to hear. “When did it really start?” Alexander pressed, his voice firm. “The gambling, the drugs… they didn’t just start when you met Marceline, did they? You’d already been sinking long before that.” Liam swallowed hard, guilt flashing in his bloodshot eyes. He lowered his head. “No. It started before.” I exhaled slowly, a bitter weight settling in my chest. Liam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if steeling himself, before speaking again. “It started with...Conrad.” I stiffened at the name, my hands clenching in my lap. Just the mention of his name sent a flash of anger down my spine. “The first time I asked him for money, I was hesitant,” Liam admitted. “I knew you already felt indebted to him for helping with Mom’s hospital bills, Bee
Abigail The facility Liam was being kept in was called Ridgeway Wellness Center, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have thought we had pulled up to a luxury retreat rather than a rehabilitation center. The building itself was discreet, modern but not flashy, and clearly designed to blend in rather than draw attention. Even the entrance was unassuming, hidden behind a row of neatly trimmed trees, giving the impression of privacy. I had half-expected Alexander to stash Liam away in some run-down place, somewhere fitting for a man who had made so many mistakes, but he hadn’t. He had brought him here. It must be my imagination that my eyes were burning as we stepped inside. The lobby was bright, clean, and quiet. The soft scent of antiseptic mixed with something fresher, like lavender, filled the air. A nurse stood at the reception desk, a man in his forties with neatly combed hair and a professional but friendly demeanor. He looked up as we entered, and immediately, something in h