Esmery's heart pounded as she stepped into the grand drawing room, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The air was thick with tension, the heavy silence amplifying the storm brewing inside her.
Monica Hale, seated regally on an ornate chair, barely looked up from her tea. But Esmery knew—knew—that her presence was unwelcome.
Still, she had no choice.
She needed answers.
"Auntie," Esmery's voice was sharp with concern, laced with something dangerous—accusation. "What's going on with Diego? He's been gone for four months, and I have a bad feeling something's terribly wrong. And I think it has something to do with Astrid."
At the mention of her daughter's name, Monica's cold, calculating eyes snapped up, flashing with warning. The room's temperature seemed to plummet.
"What are you insinuating, Esmery?" Monica's voice was like shards of ice, deceptively calm but sharp enough to cut.
Esmery clenched her fists, standing her ground. "I'm saying that Diego is involved with Astrid. And I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I won't stand by and watch it happen."
A dark, twisted sneer curled on Monica's lips. Then, she laughed—low and mocking, sending chills down Esmery's spine.
"How dare you!" Monica spat, her once composed facade shattering into pure venom. "You have no right to question me or my family! You're nothing but a bastard child, a constant reminder of your mother's shameless behavior!"
Esmery's breath hitched, but she refused to back down.
She knew Monica despised her.
But this? This was pure hatred.
"At least my mother didn't hide behind a mask of respectability while secretly manipulating those around her," Esmery shot back, her voice laced with fury and hurt. "You've never shown me love or kindness. Only cruelty. Disdain. Contempt. My father, Ethan, is the only one who's ever truly cared for me!"
Monica's face twisted in rage.
Esmery didn't wait for her response. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Monica seething—seething with fury, but also something else… desperation.
---
A Past Stained with Betrayal
The deep-rooted hatred between Monica and Esmery was not born in a day.
It was forged from betrayal. Lies. A cruel twist of fate.
Monica and Flavia were sisters—Monica, the eldest, and Flavia, the youngest. They had once been inseparable, bound by blood and love.
Until that love was ripped apart.
Two sisters. Two men. One betrayal.
Flavia had been deeply in love with Ethan Anderson, a wealthy, powerful man whose presence commanded attention. And Ethan? He had been utterly devoted to Flavia, his love unwavering, eternal.
Monica, on the other hand, had Hank Hale—a man she adored, the one she had dreamed of marrying. They had planned their weddings on the same day, a double ceremony that would solidify their bond as sisters.
But their parents had other plans.
A decision was made—a twisted, unforgivable decision.
Monica, the eldest, would surrender her fiancé, Hank, to Flavia.
Why?
Because they refused to let Flavia marry Ethan Anderson.
Monica had been furious, devastated. She confronted Hank, demanding an explanation, demanding to know why he would abandon her.
And his response?
"If Flavia marries Ethan, she'll be in the limelight. She'll outshine you, Monica. And you know you can't compete with that."
The words burned into her soul like acid.
Because deep down, she knew the ugly truth.
Flavia had always been the more beautiful one.
Even a blind man could see how Hank stared at Flavia—how his eyes followed her every move, how his touch lingered just a second too long.
Flavia never wanted any of this.
She loved Ethan, not Hank. But in the end, it didn't matter. She was forced into a marriage she never desired, torn away from the man she truly loved.
But Ethan?
Ethan's love never wavered.
Even as he stood as the best man at Flavia and Hank's wedding, his heart remained only for Flavia.
Monica saw it.
Monica hated it.
Hank could shower Flavia with wealth, power, and devotion, but he would never love her the way Ethan loved Flavia.
Monica felt discarded, overshadowed, forgotten.
And so, the love she once had for her sister rotted into something monstrous.
Hatred.
Jealousy.
A need for revenge.
When Flavia gave birth to Esmery, Monica didn't see an innocent child.
She saw the living embodiment of everything that had been stolen from her.
She saw Flavia's happiness, Flavia's legacy, Flavia's bloodline.
And she vowed—Esmery would never know peace.
---
Back to the Present…
Monica sat in silence, her hands clenched into fists as she replayed Esmery's words in her head.
That girl was getting too bold.
Too defiant.
Too much like her mother.
Monica's lips curled into a slow, sinister smirk.
It was time to remind Esmery exactly who was in control.
Because no matter how much Esmery fought back…
She was still nothing but a pawn in Monica's game.
And soon?
She would lose everything.
Just like her mother did.