Page 4 of Darkest Deception

What will I do?

What do I have left?

I have spent the whole day in my room staring at my laptop screen, scrolling for hours, trying to decide whether I should barge into Helia’s office and demand for him to give me back my company or if I should build a case against him that he won’t win and take him to court.

I should have made Dad sign the company over to me when he was alive, but he had to go make deals with the wrong people, getting himself killed in the process and leaving absolutely nothing to his family. My mum, Leysa Torre, left for Glasgow after my father died just two months ago. Since then, I had been preparing myself to take over Glamorous, but as I stood in front of Helia in that office, watching his eyes rake over me in undisguised disgust, it made me reel back and ask myself exactly why he thought so little of me when he didn’t even know me.

I have been labelled as rude, spoiled even, and I admit I was privileged, but my work is not something I lack skills in. I am good at what I do. That is undeniable. The success of my father’s business is because of me. My decisions. My plans. I have worked for this moment my whole life, waiting for the day my father handed the company over to me.

Only to have some stranger waltz in my life, insult me, and snatch it out of my hands before I can taste the success I was working towards.

I want to know what he knows about me, not because I care about anyone’s opinion, but because I need to know who I am fighting against and what he has on me.

I get up, stretch the kinks out of my back, and change into my yoga clothes as the night falls outside. I block everything from the day and the past few months so I can focus on calming my mind.

My curtains flap against the harsh wind outside as I place a yoga mat on the floor in front of the balcony.

I stretch my legs and arms before sitting down in a lotus position. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths in and out.

Doing yoga at the end of the day helps me keep my mind in check and helps me organise my thoughts.

And then they start.

The voices and screams.

The pained cries.

My body twitches with the reminder of everything from my past.

I force myself to stay still as I try not to move and not recall what happened.

My body starts to strain, my muscles tightening as the screams get louder and louder. My heart clenches inside my chest, and my lip trembles before the pounding in my head starts to take over.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Louder and louder.

My eyes snap open, and I gasp.

My hold on my body fails, and I fall forward. Sweat covers my back and chest. I take deep breaths to level my breathing, but the screams and cries in my mind don’t dim.

They never will.

Pressing into my hands and feet, I push up into a downward-facing dog pose, taking deep breaths as I will my body to relax, and let the practise wash away my worries, even if only temporarily.

After a couple of poses, I get into a plank. My arms and upper body start shaking after five minutes, and only then does my mind open and the screams begin once more. The cries for help. The helpless looks on their faces.

I bite my lip to contain my frustration, to just hold on a little longer.

Then all of a sudden, that prickling feeling of being watched slowly crawls up my neck to my head until it rests there, making me stiffen. It’s hot, it’s terrifying, and it makes me want to curl up in a small corner of my room with my knees up to my chest and shut my eyes tightly.

He’s here.

He’s here again, and just like clockwork, he has arrived at the exact moment my body breaks.

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