CHAPTER 22

I cried until exhaustion took over, my body finally succumbing to the relentless emotional storm that had torn through me.

Sleep came not as a relief but as an escape, and even then, it was fleeting.

It felt like I had barely closed my eyes when the harsh sunlight pierced through the curtains, dragging me back into reality.

Groggily, I opened my eyes, disoriented and confused. How was it morning already? The night had passed in a blur, and I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that I had only slept for a few moments.

I sat up in bed, and immediately, the familiar ache in my chest resurfaced, a heavy reminder that grief hadn’t let go of its grip.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the haze of sleep, but it clung to me like a stubborn shadow, refusing to let me feel rested.

The memories of yesterday came flooding back, each one more overwhelming than the last. I threw off the covers, my body protesting with every movement. I hadn’t slept enough—my red, puffy eyes and aching muscles were proof of that.

Stumbling to the bathroom, I flipped on the light switch, wincing as the bright light assaulted my senses. My reflection in the mirror was a harsh reality check.

I looked like a mess—my eyes swollen from crying, my face pale and gaunt. The person staring back at me seemed like a stranger, a shadow of who I once was.

I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face in a futile attempt to wake myself up. But no amount of water could wash away the exhaustion clinging to me.

I was still tired, still grieving, still trapped in this nightmare that had become my life.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to shake off the weariness, forcing myself to keep moving. I brushed my teeth, took a quick shower, and dressed in a red shoulder-less top and black joggers, not caring how I looked. I just needed to get out of that room.

As I stepped into the corridor, I spotted Mrs. Victoria standing near the railing, watching the workers go about their duties with that same cold, calculating expression she always wore.

"Good morning, Mrs. Victoria," I greeted her, my voice calm and polite, though inside, I braced myself for her response.

She turned toward me, her eyes narrowing with contempt.

"What's good about the morning, Aries?" she snapped, her voice laced with venom. She hissed, a sound of pure disdain, as if my very presence offended her.

"You think you can just walk up to me and greet me like everything is fine? After what you did to my daughter? You're a wicked girl, Aries." Her voice rose, echoing down the corridor, and I could feel the weight of her words pressing down on me, sharp and cutting.

She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with anger.

"You're a deceitful, manipulative child. Do you think a simple 'good morning' will make everything okay? You're not even sorry for what you did, are you?" She pointed her finger at me, accusation dripping from her every word.

The workers below had stopped, their eyes on us, curiosity and unease written on their faces. I felt a surge of embarrassment, anxiety gnawing at my insides, but I stood my ground, refusing to let her see me break.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Victoria," I said, trying to placate her, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I didn’t mean to hurt Sophia. It was just a misunderstanding."

But she scoffed, her face twisting with disgust. "A misunderstanding? Do you think slapping my daughter is a misunderstanding? You're a menace, Aries."

Her words struck deep, and for a moment, I wanted to defend myself, to explain, but I knew it would be futile. Nothing I said would change her mind.

I took a deep breath and turned away, leaving her venomous words behind as I headed downstairs.

As I came downstairs, the atmosphere shifted. The workers greeted me warmly, offering me some semblance of comfort after Mrs. Victoria’s harsh words. Mrs. Kate, the cleaner, was the first to speak up, her voice gentle.

"Good morning, Aries, dear. How are you doing today?"

A chorus of greetings followed, and though I appreciated their kindness, I still felt the weight of my grief pressing down on me. Their concern was like a balm to my soul, but it couldn’t erase the pain.

I went to the kitchen, I walked over to Mrs. Jenkins, who was washing dishes, and greeted her as well.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jenkins."

She turned to me with a bright smile.

"Oh my! Good morning, Aries, dear!" Her cheerfulness was infectious, and for a brief moment, I felt a flicker of warmth in the coldness that had settled around me.

"How are you doing, Mrs. Jenkins?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the heaviness inside me.

"I'm doing great, and you?" she paused, her smile faltering slightly as she studied me. "How was your night?"

I forced a smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

"I'm doing okay. I had a good night’s sleep, but I’m still trying to shake off the emotional exhaustion." My voice wavered, the vulnerability slipping through despite my efforts to hide it.

"I feel a little weak, both physically and mentally, like the weight of my grief is still bearing down on me." My eyes welled up with tears, but I blinked them away, refusing to break down again.

Mrs. Jenkins’ expression softened, her motherly concern evident.

"It's only normal to feel that way, dear. You’ve been through so much." She reached out, giving my hand a comforting squeeze.

"Why don’t you go back upstairs and rest? I’ll bring your breakfast to your room."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins. I really appreciate it," I said, feeling a bit of warmth return to my heart at her kindness.

As I walked back upstairs, my feet felt heavier with each step. I tried to block out the lingering echoes of Mrs. Victoria’s harsh words, focusing instead on just making it back to my room.

But as I passed by Mrs. Victoria's door, I overheard her speaking on the phone, her voice sharp and clear.

"Yes, it's true... the company is folding... the main shareholder has withdrawn his shares... it's a disaster," she said, her tone cold and calculating.

A shiver ran down my spine as her words sank in. Could it be true? Was our company really in such dire straits?

I stopped in my tracks, a strange smile tugging at my lips. "Everything was going as my mom predicted,"

I thought, a bittersweet sense of satisfaction mingling with the sorrow that never quite left me.