Page 77 of Deadly Secrets

Her statement left me feeling uneasy.

“My dad, Robert, took care of me after my mother passed away following her two-year battle with breast cancer. My dad had a good job. He worked in research; that’s one of the reasons I took an interest in science, but the money we had barely covered the mortgage, my school expenses, and the healthcare bills she left behind. I wasn’t fully aware of our financial struggles, but that changed when my dad was laid off from the lab. It was a tough period, and he turned to drinking, which created a vicious cycle. I thought things couldn’t get worse, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.” Maggie’s eyes looked glassy. She blinked, and a single tear trickled down her temple, disappearing beneath her blond hair. “As I told you when we met, he committed suicide.”

Her story turned my stomach, and the idea of a younger Maggie feeling helpless and alone made me feel sick.

“You know, I had no other family apart from my father, so I essentially became another orphan entering the foster care system. I transitioned between different foster families for a year, but things took a turn when I was eventually placed with the Millers.

“What I’m going to share with you… I’m not looking for sympathy… I haven’t told anyone in all these years, so please, Sienna…” She turned her face toward me. “Please don’t say anything, just listen to me.”

I remained silent as she shifted her gaze back to the ceiling and took a few deep breaths to regain her composure.

“Carl Miller, my foster dad, practically ignored me for the first couple of months. But one night, something changed. He came to my room in the middle of the night and…” Her voice quivered, and more tears started to flow uncontrollably.

“Oh, Maggie.” I pushed myself up from the bed and reached her with my arms. I hugged her tightly. Maggie wept inconsolably, and I remained in the same holding position until her sobs gradually quieted down. I couldn’t imagine the pain she must have felt every time she relived those moments.

Who could do those things to a child?

“How long?” I asked.

“Too long. When I turned sixteen, I took a job and started the legal process to emancipate from them, my legal guardians at that point. Carl and his wife, who I’m sure knew what was happening behind closed doors, never opposed throughout the process. That’s why I have intimacy issues, in addition to others. I go to therapy once a week. It helps, but I don’t think anyone recovers from something like that. Some days, all I want to do is curl up in bed and cry. Other days, I want to die, and other days, I want to make them pay.” Her voice became increasingly enraged toward the end of her statement, but I couldn’t blame her.

“Thank you for sharing your story with me, Maggie. It must have been tough for you. You know I’m here for you, now and always. So if you ever have one of those days when all you want to do is curl up in your bed and cry, call me. Especially if you’re flooded with dark thoughts. I promise I’ll be there in no time, and we can cry together. You’re not alone, Maggie.”

Maggie squeezed me tighter, and we hung on like that until there was a soft knock on the door, and Ander’s voice came through, saying, “Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

Chapter 31. WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

(Sienna)

Maggie chose not to join us for dinner last night. Instead, she remained in her room, and I completely understood. Revisiting those years must have been a truly harrowing experience. Today, however, she behaved like everything was fine, and our conversation never happened.

While Ander and Zayn played basketball in the backyard, Maggie and I spent the entire morning baking ginger and chocolate chip cookies with Rosita. I was watching them from the kitchen window, shirtless, all sweaty, and their muscles shining in the sunlight. Even though it hadn’t snowed in a week and December was warmer than usual, it was still winter. I didn’t know if they were brave or simply stupid. Of course, they ignored Claudia’s advice and kept goofing around with their bare torsos, which was seriously distracting. In fact, I’d been so distracted while retrieving a tray from the oven with our third batch that I now had a minor burn on my left wrist.

Every time I stared at the kitchen island, I remembered the time I was sitting on top of it with Zayn between my legs, fucking me hard on the counter.

Rosita had only left to enter the pantry room when Maggie turned to face me and teased, “You’re blushing and dribbling all over the cookies, and we know it’s not the only thing that’s getting moist around here.”

I punched her on her upper arm to make her stop.

“Rosita is going to hear you! Shut your big fat mouth!” I whispered.

The housekeeper returned carrying more flour and another pack of chocolate chips. It didn’t seem she’d heard Maggie’s comment.

“Have you got all your presents wrapped? I only bought a present for you, so I hope the guys don’t mind. I didn’t get them anything. I initially thought we were spending the holidays alone, and honestly, I have a limited budget, so don’t expect anything fancy.” Maggie didn’t know, but I’d bought her something that would blow her mind. I didn’t care what she got me. The only thing I really wanted was to see her face on Christmas morning.

“Yes, I have them all wrapped and ready. Including yours,” I responded, and her face lit up.

“I’m genuinely excited this year. I’ve spent the past couple of Christmases alone, and it’s been four years since my last one with my dad.”

Her comment made my heart ache. Nobody should spend these days alone, and especially not Maggie.

At that moment, I decided to throw a Christmathon party for her. It was a fantastic idea, thankyouverymuch, especially since Ander and I used to do it every year. The concept had evolved in the past two thanks to Sarah’s input, but the new changes made Christmathon even better. It was an upgrade.

“I’m gonna make this Christmas rock for you, and I have a plan.”

“Do you? Oh God…please. What is it?”

“Christmathon!” I lifted my arms without realizing they were covered in flour.

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