CHAPTER 11

FIORA

“Happy posthumous birthday mom”

I whisper to the little polaroid picture in front of me as a single teardrop escapes,tracing a path down my cheek.if she were alive,Mom would have been 49 today.

I thought I had gotten over mom's death,thought I had buried the grief deep enough to stop it from resurfacing. That's what mom would have wanted.but anytime this day comes around,the sadness returns,wrapping tightly around me like an old,familiar cloak.

I cannot help the several thoughts that rush through my head whenever I think of her.The sound of her laughter, the way she held me when I was scared, the warmth of her presence,they all come flooding back,overwhelming me. And with them,the unshakable ache of knowing she’s gone forever.

Orange juice has always been my little coping mechanism on days like this.Somehow,it made me feel closer to her..Oranges were mom's favorite fruits,we always had a fresh batch waiting for us every morning before school and it was honestly the highlight of my day

When she died,dad tried to carry on the tradition but it wasn't quite the same so we started taking store bought instead but even that is gone now,thanks to that pervert

A wave of despair washes over me at the thought of dad..For the first ever,he and Elena aren't here to comfort me. They aren't here to shower me with love and support

Every year,we would decorate mom's grave with lavender–her favorite flower and conduct a small ceremony in her name

Dad would try to lighten the mood by encouraging us to think positive,hiding his own pain in the process..what he doesn't know is that even if nobody else sees it,I do

I should hate him, after all,he is responsible for the mess I'm presently in but instead I find myself missing him to the point of heartache and I would do anything just to hear him call me his "mariquata"again.

The ghosts from the past crowds my head, and I can’t shoo them away no matter how much I tried so I exit my room in the hopes of finding something to rid me of my misery

“You look terrible”Margaret comments,as soon as I enter the kitchen.she is 29 years old,a chef like me and has become my closest ally since I moved in

I ignore her and head over to the wine cellar.Alder sure keeps an excessive amount of alcohol for someone who gives me a lot of shit for indulging

I scout around looking for the best thing to drown my sorrow with.Settling for a bottle of tequila, I exit the cellar

“Is something wrong?”Margaret's worried eyes meets mine once again.she has completely abandoned her meticulous chopping of vegetables and is watching me carefully

“Today would have been my mom's birthday if she were alive”I lean against the cellar door,chugging down some tequila.it spreads a path of fire down my throat but it's not enough to quench the pain in my heart

As expected,Margaret walks up to me,my pain mirroring in her eyes “I'm so sorry”she says as she pulls me into a warm embrace

I don't reciprocate,standing as still as the statues that line every room in this mansion.i’ve always hated being pitied,it made me feel helpless but maybe emotional blackmail would help me escape this place faster

“I can't imagine the pain”she tilts her head up slowly to look at me as she strokes my back

“Is there any way I can cheer you up?”

I place my hands on her shoulders”Yes…I need you to help me get out of this place”

As if on instinct,she uses both her hands to cover my mouth “Shh!! there is a camera here.Someone could be listening”she motions to the camera above the kitchen sink as she discreetly pulls me back into the cellar

A sigh escapes her lips as soon as the door closes behind her “Oh Fiora! I honestly wish I could,but Mr Kingsley would have me locked up the moment I help you escape..Moreover,the security of this estate is as tight as the white house if not tighter.We wouldn't even be able to make it halfway”

My stomach dips in defeat…She is right,There is no way we would be able to outsmart a whole league of highly trained security guards

I feel my chest rise as I fill my lungs with air “Can I at least borrow your phone?I would like to speak to my sister”

Margaret gives me a nod “Okay…but we have to make it quick,The boss must not find out about this”she responds more out of concern than fear

“Thank you”I mutter as she hands me her phone

I dial Eleana's number with the speed of light,my heart dropping with each ring

“Hello? This is Eleana Ramirez on the line,May I know who I'm speaking with”

I try my best not to shed a tear on hearing my sister's voice.. Judging by her professionalism,she is probably at dad's law firm working as hard as ever since dad is unavailable

If I didn't quit,it would be me and her in the office right now…With dad gone,I wonder how well she is coping

“Hello?”the sound of her voice snaps me back to the present

“H–hello Elena”my lips quiver as I blurt out

“Fiora?”she responds softly before clearing her throat “I’ve told you already to never contact me again”She attempts to speak to me like she would to a client but I can still hear her anger and pain

“Just hear me out…I'm sorry,I never meant for any of this to happen.i can't bear that my own sister doesn't even want to be associated with me anymore…Think about our bond,the good times we shared”

A sob catches in my throat “Think about…mom”

“Don't you dare bring mom into this!”she sounds close to tears “Today is her posthumous,dad isn't here and it's all your fault.you left and didn't look back, burdening your little sister with all your responsibilities.god,you are so selfish Fiora!.. “What happened to ‘sister's forever’?what happened to “I'll always have your back?”

My grip on Margaret’s phone tightens,Elena’s words cutting into me like jagged shards of glass. I try to respond, but my throat feels constricted, as though the weight of her anger is choking me “I promise…I.. I'll make everything right…I am truly sorry”

There’s a long silence on the other end and when she speaks again, her voice is softer, but no less distant. “I need to go. I have work to do.”

Elena, please,” I start, but the line goes dead before I can finish.

I stare at the phone in my hand, the weight of her anger and disappointment pressing down on me like a physical force.

Margaret places a hand on my shoulder, her expression full of sympathy. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head, tears spilling freely down my cheeks. “No,” I choke out, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m not okay.”

She pulls me into another hug, and this time, I let myself sink into her warmth, the pain in my chest threatening to consume me.

***********

I spend the rest of my day drinking and frolicking around the Kingsley mansion also known as my prison

Being a lightweight,I know I shouldn't be drinking this much but it's the only thing that quiets my depressing thought and I need them out of the way so I can make an escape plan

My prison is a Corinthian masterpiece,a gilded palace adorned with cobblestone courtyards, intricately carved archways and chandeliers dripping with crystals.The floors are so spotless you could eat off them, every detail painstakingly perfect, yet utterly devoid of warmth.

Soon,the alcohol completely takes over and my steps become unsteady and disjointed

I don't know how but I find myself in front of my husband’s home office.He has been avoiding me this past couple of day and honestly I liked it that way because if I had to stand his infuriating presence once more, I might explode

But maybe this is my instinct tell me:

it's time I confronted the devil