Tainted Love

Chapter 17

Vivian sat motionless on the velvet couch, her slender nape resting against the headrest like a fragile stem supporting a wilting flower. The dim afternoon light pooled through the curtains in muted streaks, laying soft shadows across her tear-stained face. Silent tears slid down the corners of her eyes and traced a path to her jaw. Each drop carried the weight of the memory that replayed like a cruel film inside her mind. She had cried so much these past hours that her chest ached, but the tears kept coming…unbidden and relentless.

Her father’s voice, sharp as a blade, still echoed in her ears. The rage in his eyes when he had ordered the guards to drag her out of the family residence would haunt her forever. To him, she had become nothing…just a name stripped of honor and belonging. The humiliation cut deeper than the harsh grip of the guards on her arms.

And then there was Victor. The image of him driving away, jaw clenched in anger, had carved itself into her heart like a scar. He hadn’t even looked back. The man she loved…the man who knew she carried his child…had simply left her standing there, trembling with fear and rejection. He knew she was pregnant. He knew she had sacrificed for him. She had even been the one who bought him that sleek black car he drove away in. Yet he left, leaving nothing but the roar of the engine and a trail of dust.

Vivian closed her eyes tighter as the sobs threatened to break loose again. She tried to swallow them, but the ache inside her chest only grew heavier. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the television. When her eyes fluttered open, a scene on the screen snagged her attention.

The actress…some stranger whose life now felt cruelly familiar…was weeping over a betrayal. The man she loved had revealed himself to be someone entirely different from the person she thought she knew. The movie’s story was not her own, yet every word, every sob, mirrored her pain. It was as if the universe had chosen to mock her suffering.

Others had warned her. Friends had whispered their doubts, and even her own mother had given her subtle warnings about Victor. But Vivian had chosen love over caution, and now she bore the cost.

Her chest tightened. She reached for the remote with trembling fingers and switched off the television. Darkness pooled across the room, leaving only the muted light of dusk. Something crept slowly into her heart…something sharp and unfamiliar. She wasn’t sure whether it was regret or something even darker. Whatever it was, it hurt. It hollowed her from within, leaving her feeling unmoored, as if pieces of herself were slipping away.

The sobs came harder now, wracking her shoulders until her face flushed crimson. Her head throbbed, but she didn’t care. The house felt emptier than ever. Victor hadn’t returned since the incident. The man who once whispered comfort into her sleepless nights had vanished. He had been her only anchor, and now she was adrift.

A sudden growl from her stomach interrupted her grief. She placed a palm over her slightly rounded belly. Hunger gnawed at her, but appetite refused to follow. She had no desire to eat, yet she knew she must. For the sake of the tiny life growing inside her, she would force herself. Wiping her swollen eyes, Vivian rubbed her stomach and rose, her movements slow and heavy, as if the weight of betrayal pressed on every limb.

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Across the city, Emilia returned home long after dusk, the tension of the day clinging to her like an unwelcome shadow. Every nerve in her body felt raw, every breath heavy. Her dealings with Pascaline had left her feeling tainted, unclean….as though something foul had seeped into her skin. She needed a bath, and she needed it now.

She tossed her handbag and phone carelessly onto the bed and headed straight to the bathroom. The shower hissed to life and soon steam wrapped around her like a fog. The hot water beat down on her shoulders, but no matter how long she stood beneath the stream, she couldn’t shake the sensation of being defiled. She scrubbed harder than usual, desperate to erase the memory of Pascaline’s defiance.

When she finally emerged, wrapped in a thick bathrobe, the mirror was clouded with steam. She padded into her closet, the plush carpet muffling her steps. But as she reached for a clean dress, something tugged at her instincts. She stopped.

The closet was immaculate…clothes hung neatly, shoes aligned perfectly…but the air felt disturbed, as if someone had recently been here. A faint, almost imperceptible shift in the scent of her perfume. Her heart gave a sharp kick. Someone had touched her belongings.

Her gaze darted to the small hidden drawer where a tiny, velvet-lined box rested….her most guarded secret. She pulled it open with trembling fingers. Everything inside was untouched. Relief washed over her, but it was thin, fleeting. Someone had been here. She could feel it.

It wasn’t the maids….she had warned them strictly never to set foot in her personal quarters. And her husband? No. He never entered this closet without her. That left…who? Her breath quickened.

A sudden thought flashed through her mind, slicing through her unease: the CCTV cameras. She had meant to check them earlier. Her fingers fumbled for her phone. She dialed the number of her most trusted bodyguard…her right hand, the one who carried out her silent orders without question.

The call connected. “Fix CCTV cameras everywhere,” she ordered in a low, urgent voice. “She can’t escape again. We must keep a close eye on her.”

A voice cut through the air behind her, deep and cold. “Who are you keeping an eye on?”

The sound struck her like a physical blow. Emilia spun around, heart hammering violently. The phone nearly slipped from her grasp.

“Urhm…urhm…” She forced a smile that felt brittle and false. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“I’m listening,” came the calm, probing voice of Mr. Dary as he stepped fully into the doorway. His eyes…sharp, unreadable….bore into her.

Emilia’s mind raced. Lie, her instincts screamed. Find something believable.

“Oh…oh, I mean my friend Silvia,” she stammered, the smile on her lips trembling. “She was talking about her daughter….how the girl has become adamant. I was just giving advice…you know, how she could keep an eye on her daughter.”

She searched his face for any sign of suspicion, praying he would accept the story.

Mr. Dary studied her for a long, unbearable moment. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but edged with steel. “Emilia, I don’t know, but I feel I must ask you this….are you hiding something?”

“What?!” Her eyes widened in mock shock. “Why would you ask such a thing? Don’t you trust me anymore?”

He raised his index finger and moved it slowly side to side, a silent gesture of warning. “Don’t start, Emilia. I just asked a question. No need for tears.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her rooted to the spot, her lie half-formed and her heart pounding. She stood there like a fool, the silence around her heavier than before.

⸻

Far away, in front of a sprawling mansion bathed in golden evening light, joy bloomed in another woman’s heart.

Bianca could hardly breathe for the excitement that bubbled inside her. Who wouldn’t be thrilled? She had just been proposed to, gifted a luxurious car and…almost beyond belief….an entire house. Her eyes shimmered with tears of happiness as she buried her face against her boyfriend Victor’s chest.

“I… I can’t believe this,” she whispered, her voice trembling with wonder.

Victor smiled, his arm tightening protectively around her. “Believe it,” he murmured. “You deserve every bit of this.”

“And this,” he added, pulling a crisp envelope from his jacket pocket, “is a ten-million-dollar check. Cash it when you like. Spoil yourself, baby girl.”

Bianca’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, Victor!” Overcome, she hugged him tightly and pressed a fervent kiss to his lips.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, laughter rumbling in his chest. “There’s more to see.”

Inside, the house gleamed. Chandeliers cast soft light over polished floors. The air carried the warm scent of freshly prepared food. Maids moved quietly, attending to final touches.

Victor pulled out a chair for Bianca with a flourish. She sat, her heart still racing, while her pregnancy cravings stirred. She rested a hand over her belly and laughed softly.

“I think your child is more excited to taste the food than I am,” she teased.

Victor chuckled, leaning in to kiss her neck and gently rub her stomach. The quiet between them was almost sacred.

Twenty minutes later, as they ate in comfortable silence, Bianca’s gaze fell on a bottle of wine. She sighed. “I wish I could have a glass,” she said wistfully. “But our little one would never forgive me. Victor…do you think just a little would hurt?”

When he didn’t answer, she lifted her head, confused. “Hello? I’m talking to you. Are you listening?”

Victor’s expression was unreadable. He exhaled slowly. “Bianca, we have a problem.”

Her heart skipped. “Oh my God, what is it?”

“Vivian,” he said quietly. “She’s pregnant too.”

The words struck her like a slap. “What?!” Bianca pushed back from the table, her chair scraping sharply against the marble floor.

“Forgive me, Bianca,” Victor said, his voice thick with remorse. “It was a mistake.”

“No, Victor!” Her voice cracked, eyes brimming with tears. “We talked about this!”

“Trust me,” he said quickly, reaching for her hands. “I’ll get rid of the baby. I promise you…I won’t let her child come into our life.”

Bianca shook her head in disbelief, torn between fury and heartbreak. “But…”

“Baby,” Victor whispered urgently, “please. Calm down. Trust me.”

Her breath came in shudders. Slowly, painfully, she lifted her eyes to his. “Okay,” she said at last, her voice low and trembling. “But I have two conditions for you…”

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