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Fiona's Turn
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2025-01-16 21:15:10
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Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Slow Poison
Maya's POVThe days blurred together in my gilded prison. I spread my design sketches across the bed, red pen marking adjustments here and there. The competition deadline loomed, but at least being locked up gave me plenty of time to work.My phone buzzed. Olivia."The divorce papers are almost ready," she said without preamble. "We just need to figure out how to serve them to Daniel since he's keeping you isolated."I smiled, grateful I'd demanded my phone back after the dinner at Grandfather's. "He can't keep me locked up forever. We'll find a way.""Are you eating? Taking care of yourself?""Yes, mom," I teased. Though honestly, I had been feeling off lately. Probably from being cooped up all day.The house felt different with all the new staff. The old chef, Maria, who'd been with us for years - gone. The familiar maids - replaced. Daniel's watchdogs, all of them. But it meant I didn't have to see him and Fiona flaunting their relationship, so I counted it as a win.I returned to
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Maya's POVWhite light stabbed my eyes as consciousness slowly returned. The antiseptic smell hit me first, then the steady beep of machines. A hospital. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, every thought sluggish and heavy. An IV line snaked from my arm, the clear liquid dripping steadily. My tongue felt like sandpaper."Hey there." Alex's voice, soft and warm. "Take it easy."I blinked, trying to focus. He sat beside my bed, his usually immaculate suit slightly rumpled, tie loosened. Despite my fuzzy brain, I noticed the concern etched in the lines around his eyes. A folded newspaper lay abandoned on his lap, as if he'd been there a while."What happened?" My voice came out raspy, my throat raw. The words tasted like metal in my mouth."The driver found you unconscious." Alex leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Lucky timing, really. I'd been having wine with your grandfather at the old house, and he insisted his driver take me back to the city. Thomas had to drop some
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Maya's POVGrandfather's presence seemed to shrink the hospital room. He stood there, radiating cold fury, his eyes fixed on the marks around Fiona's neck with an almost clinical detachment. The silence stretched, broken only by the steady beep of my heart monitor."Thomas called me," he finally said, his voice deceptively calm. "Told me my grandson locked his wife in a room and left her to faint alone. And now I find you here, Daniel, berating a sick woman in her hospital bed?""Grandfather, you don't understand." Daniel's tone shifted, that familiar oily smoothness creeping in. "Maya attacked Fiona. Look at her neck—""Oh, yes." Fiona touched her throat delicately, batting tear-filled eyes at Daniel. "I was so scared..."Grandfather's laugh was sharp enough to cut. "Scared? Those barely-there marks that look suspiciously like makeup? Did you think I wouldn't notice?"I watched Fiona's face flush, her perfect mask slipping for just a moment."Probably bumped into something and saw an
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Maya's POVI sat in Olivia's pristine office, my fingers tracing the edge of her mahogany desk. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, catching on the fresh flowers she always kept. Everything about the space spoke of new beginnings – so different from the suffocating opulence of my prison."He locked you up and you fainted?" Olivia's voice was tight with controlled anger. Her normally perfect composure cracked as she paced behind her desk. "Maya, this is beyond divorce territory. We could press charges.""No charges," I said firmly, watching her heels click against the hardwood. "I just want out."She paused her pacing, pulled open her drawer, and withdrew a thick manila envelope. The weight of it felt significant as she placed it in my hands. "Final version. I've triple-checked everything."My fingers trembled slightly as I opened it. Fiona's smirking confession about the food flashed through my mind, followed by the metallic taste in my mouth, the world going black. Eve
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Maya's POVGrandfather's knowing smile over breakfast should have warned me. He'd been particularly interested in my coffee preference this morning, watching me with that gleam in his eye that usually meant he knew something I didn't."Alex mentioned the design department's been busy," he said casually, too casually. "Must be exciting times at Thorne."I focused on stirring my coffee, grateful he couldn't see my hands shake slightly. The interview invitation sat heavy in my phone's inbox, unmentioned. "It's... interesting."His eyebrow rose fractionally. For a moment, I thought he might press further, but he just hummed and returned to his newspaper.The drive to Thorne Designs felt longer than usual. I'd chosen not to tell Alex about the interview - not a lie, exactly, just... an omission. Something I needed to do on my own merit, without complications or assumptions.The usual morning bustle of the lobby paused briefly as I stepped in. A familiar figure stood by the reception desk, h
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"Mr. Thorne." Sophie's voice went high, desperate. "I... I wasn't..."But he was looking at me, his expression impossible to read. The air felt thick with everything we weren't saying.Alex's hand barely brushed my elbow as he guided me away from Sophie's crumbling composure. The touch was light, professional, but electricity sparked through my sleeve."I believe we're done here," he said, his voice carrying that same quiet authority I remembered from breakfast. The memory of his knowing smile made my cheeks warm.The elevator doors closed on Sophie's stunned face. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my portfolio clutched against my chest like a shield.“Thank you.” I tried to speak in a steady voice, masking any hint of emotion, but deep down, I couldn’t help wondering why he always seemed to catch me at my most vulnerable moments."There's a place around the corner," Alex said as we descended. "Best mushroom risotto in the city."It wasn't really a question. But then
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Daniel's POVThe divorce papers sat on my desk like a personal insult. Late afternoon sun slanted through my office windows, catching on Maya's signature. Each stroke felt like a slap, like she was finally daring to defy me.Ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous.I took another sip of scotch, letting the liquid burn. Memories of our early days flooded back - how perfectly she'd fit into my world, so talented, so moldable. The way she'd light up when I praised her work, before I taught her to be quiet, to know her place.She'd been an investment, really. Raw talent wrapped in insecurity, just waiting to be shaped. Every design she created under my guidance made me millions. Every time she shrank from my touch, my control grew stronger. Perfect. Profitable.Until now.The celebration party played in my mind - her defiance, that spark in her eyes I thought I'd crushed years ago. Locking her up was supposed to remind her of her place. The fainting? Obviously another attention-seeking
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Maya's POVThe silk blouse draped over my ironing board like water. Steam rose in delicate curls as I pressed each seam, remembering the way Janet had smiled during the interview. Tomorrow. My first real day of work in years."You'll wear out the fabric if you keep at it."I jumped at Grandfather's voice. He stood in the doorway of my room, watching me with fond exasperation."I want to look perfect," I admitted, smoothing the fabric one last time."Ah yes, your new job." He settled into the armchair by the window. "Though you didn't mention it was Alex's company at breakfast."Heat crept up my neck. "I didn't want you to think...""That he gave you special treatment?" Grandfather's eyes twinkled. "Maya, my dear, I've known you since you were born. You've never taken the easy path.""Daniel..." I hesitated, the iron hovering over silk. "He didn't want me to work.""And now?"The divorce papers flashed through my mind. I couldn't tell him. Not yet. "Now I'm free to try."Grandfather was
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-01-16
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I spent the afternoon gathering supplies, then worked through the night preparing pieces for the fair. I created six more complete jewelry sets, each built around those distinctive spiral beads. By dawn, I had enough inventory to fill a small display, if not a full booth.I arrived at the square precisely at eight, carrying a folding table I'd found in the cabin's shed and a wooden tray that displayed my pieces against dark velvet. A few other vendors were already setting up, arranging pottery or paintings or handwoven textiles. Eleanor pointed me to a corner spot beneath a massive oak tree, the dappled shade perfect for displaying jewelry without harsh glare."You have your own table. Good." Her tone was clipped, but not unfriendly. "Need anything else?""I'm all set, thanks."She nodded and moved on, but I noticed her watching me from time to time as I arranged my pieces. Something about her attention felt oddly specific, though I couldn't place why.I wondered if she recognized me.
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Two weeks passed in a blur. I'd fallen into a routine that felt both new and achingly familiar. Wake with the sun. Coffee on the porch. Hike the overgrown trails that surrounded the cabin until my legs ached. Sketch whatever caught my eye—a particular twist of tree branch, the pattern of lichen on stone, the way light filtered through pine needles. Then work with glass until my fingers were raw and my back screamed from hunching over the flame.I'd cleaned out the workshop properly now, scrubbing years of dust and grime from every surface. I'd cataloged all the supplies, surprised by how much Mami Lulu had left behind. Hundreds of glass rods in every imaginable color. Tools in pristine condition, despite the years of neglect. A small kiln that, miraculously, still worked when I plugged it into the generator I'd bought during my first supply run to town.The cabin itself had transformed too. I'd scrubbed every surface, repaired what I could with my limited skills, and arranged my meage
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I spent the next several hours continuing the cleaning I'd started yesterday—more sweeping, more scrubbing, removing sheets from the bedroom furniture I hadn't gotten to yet. After more fiddling with the water system, I finally located the main valve outside and, after several attempts, managed to get the old pipes to deliver rust-colored water that eventually ran clear. The electricity was another matter—apparently disconnected long ago—but I'd come prepared with battery-powered lanterns and the camping stove I'd used last night.By mid-afternoon, I was filthy, sweaty, and oddly satisfied. The bedroom was now reasonably clean to match the progress I'd made in the main room yesterday, the bathroom was functional if primitive, and I'd aired out more of the musty odor. My arms ached from scrubbing and carrying water, but the physical exhaustion felt good—clarifying, somehow.I dragged an old wooden chair onto the front porch and collapsed into it, watching as the sun began its descent t
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MayaI woke with a start, disoriented by the unfamiliar shadows cast across rough-hewn beams. For a moment, panic seized me—where the hell was I? Then the scent registered: pine, wood smoke, and something else—something that tugged at memories buried so deep they felt more like dreams than lived experience.The cabin. My cabin.Sunlight filtered through the windows I'd wiped down yesterday, catching dust particles that still danced in the early morning light despite my cleaning efforts. The fire I'd built last night had died to embers, leaving a slight chill in the air. Now, in the revealing daylight, I saw my childhood home properly, the areas I hadn't managed to clean yet standing in stark contrast to the parts I'd already restored.It was smaller than I remembered. Childhood memories have a way of making everything seem larger, more expansive. But the essentials were exactly as they'd lived in my mind: the stone fireplace dominating one wall, the rough wooden table beneath the east
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AlexI made it to my car before my composure cracked. Sitting behind the wheel, I slammed my palm against it hard enough to hurt, cursing under my breath. I'd handled that all wrong. Again.The look on Maya's face when I admitted hiring a PI—pure betrayal. Rage. Fear. All justified.I started the engine but didn't move, just sat there staring up at the lights of her apartment building. She'd tried to slap me. Again. I couldn't blame her."Not investigating you anymore." Christ. As if stopping was some kind of favor I'd done her. No wonder she'd exploded.The envelope of evidence sat on the passenger seat where I'd placed a second copy before heading up to her apartment. I'd known she might destroy the first one. Might not believe me. Might throw me out.I'd been right about all of it, and still managed to fuck up the execution completely.The dashboard clock read 8:47 PM. Not even nine, but I felt as if I'd aged a decade in the last forty minutes. I pulled away from the curb, forcing
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I slept poorly that night, dreams shifting between the peaceful cabin workshop and nightmarish scenarios where faceless figures stood watching through windows, calculating, waiting.By dawn, I'd made my decision. I would go to the mountains, to the cabin where I'd been truly happy. I would seek answers on my own terms, without Alex's theories coloring my perceptions or Daniel's threats hanging over me.I finished packing quickly, loaded my car, and left a message for Grandfather explaining my need for a brief leave of absence. He'd understand—might even approve of the strategic retreat while Daniel's legal situation developed.As I drove toward the mountains the next morning, I kept checking my rearview mirror, unsure if I was afraid of being followed or being alone with these new thoughts.
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That night in my apartment, unable to sleep again, I opened my laptop and did something I'd been avoiding—I searched for our old address in the mountains. The cabin wasn't technically ours; Mami Lulu had rented it for years from an elderly couple who'd never bothered to raise the price or ask questions about the woman raising a child in the remote location.To my shock, the property appeared in current real estate listings. FOR SALE: Rustic 2BR Mountain Cabin with Workshop. The photos showed a structure slightly more weathered than in my memories but essentially unchanged—the wooden porch, the stone chimney, the clearing surrounded by tall pines.The coincidence felt significant, almost supernatural. I'd been dreaming of the cabin for weeks, and now it was available, as if waiting for me to return.Witho
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The glass rod glowed orange-red under the flame, softening until it drooped like honey. I twisted it carefully around the metal mandrel, just as Mami Lulu had taught me."Steady hands," her voice came from behind me. "Let the glass tell you what it wants to be."The small workshop smelled of propane and hot glass, with undertones of the pine forest surrounding our cabin. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes and turning them golden. The rough-hewn wooden walls felt solid and permanent around me."There," I said, holding up the mandrel to show her the perfect round bead I'd formed. Blue glass with swirls of green, like the deep pools in the creek behind our cabin.Mami Lulu smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Beautiful, mija. Now let it cool slowly."I placed the mandrel in the cooling rack, satisfaction warming my chest. Through the open window, I could hear the creek bubbling over rocks, the rustling of pine needles in the breeze, the distant call of a ha
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Break In
I spent the rest of Sunday at Mami Lulu's bedside, reading to her unresponsive form from design magazines, describing the gala and its aftermath. The nurses said talking to unresponsive patients could help, that they might hear even if they couldn't respond. I chose to believe it, needing some connection to the woman who had truly raised me.Evening found me back at my apartment, reviewing the briefing materials Grandfather's assistant had sent over. Board member profiles, financial summaries, pending contracts—hundreds of pages of information I needed to absorb before Thursday.My phone buzzed with a text from Troy: Dinner? I have gossip about the industry fallout.I agreed, grateful for the break and the company. Troy arrived with Thai food and a bottle of wine, settling cross-legged on my couch as he unpacked containers."It's deliciously messy out there," he reported gleefully. "The industry is completely split. Old-guard designers are clutching their pearls over your 'violent out
