Tainted Love

Chapter 16

She stepped out of the bathroom, the scent of damp soap clinging faintly to her skin. The maids had dressed her in a white sari, exactly as her sister had ordered. Barefoot, her toes pressed against the cool marble floor. Strands of long, slightly wet hair clung to her cheeks like silk threads. She usually wore black. Today, against her will, she was wrapped in white……because it was her birthday.

The maid who had helped her bathe guided her toward the bedroom as though escorting a prisoner. “The guard will be with you soon,” the woman said in a low voice. She left quickly and, in her haste, forgot the simplest rule of this house. She did not lock the door.

Pascaline raised her head slowly, and for the first time her face was visible. There were no tears. Her eyes, dark and empty, reflected nothing at all. She had cried every last tear in the long years of torment that had stolen her feelings and left her hollow.

Silence stretched in the room like a held breath.

Pascaline moved toward the door. Her body trembled, but her mind had already decided. Either they would catch her and she would die trying, or she would break free. She would not miss this chance.

Her heart pounded like a drum as she turned the handle. The door gave way without resistance. She slipped into the hallway and ran.

Her bare feet slapped the cold tiles. She flew past the tall windows where the moonlight spilled silver patterns on the floor. Down the wide staircase she ran, ignoring the startled shouts of guards and maids.

“Stop right there! You don’t want to die!” someone yelled.

But she kept running.

Her breath grew ragged. The world blurred. And then…her strength failed. Her knees buckled and the hallway tilted. She collapsed, her body striking the floor with a dull, final sound.

####

“Ahhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Don’t let her run! Catch Pascaline! You can’t let her escape. She will destroy everything. Catch her! She will reveal everything. No! No! No!”

“Emilia! Emilia!” Mr. Dary shook his wife violently. “It is just a dream!”

Mrs. Dary woke with a cry, her hands still flailing in the air as though she were trying to grasp someone fleeing. “Pascaline is escaping!” she gasped. It took several minutes for her to return to herself, to recognize the dark comfort of her bedroom.

“What are you talking about, Emilia?” Mr. Dary asked, his voice rough with confusion. “Pascaline is dead. She has been gone for more than two decades.”

Emilia froze. Out of shame…or perhaps a sudden fear that she had revealed too much…she buried her face in her husband’s chest and began to cry. Her sobs came fast and hot, as if she had been caught in a lie. It was rare for her to weep.

“It is fine, Emilia,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. “I understand. Today is her birthday, that must be why you dreamed of her.”

His words were gentle, yet suspicion stirred inside him. Old doubts he thought long buried crept back to life. He brushed them aside and held his wife tightly as she trembled.

Their fragile moment was broken by the shrill ring of Mrs. Dary’s phone. She reached for it, glanced at the screen, and went still.

It was not merely a dream. It was a revelation.

Without a word, she threw off the blankets and rose from the bed. Mr. Dary stared at her, caught off guard by the sudden urgency in her movement.

“What is it?” he asked, but she was already halfway to the door.

He watched her disappear into the hallway, unease hardening in his chest. After a moment he reached for his own phone and dialed Sylvester.

⸻####

Elsewhere, the night carried a different tension.

Vivian sat in the car, her heart thudding as the gates of her childhood home loomed ahead. The house that once filled her with excitement now made her stomach knot. The lights glowing through the tall windows seemed colder than she remembered.

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the car door. The thought of facing her father sent a shiver through her.

Victor stepped out first, confident as always. He turned to her with a half smile. “Where are you going?” Vivian asked nervously.

“To the entrance,” he said, puzzled. “Aren’t we supposed to go inside?”

“This is not an ordinary visit,” she whispered, her voice tight. “We are here to plead. We have to give my father a reason to accept us. Please, don’t make this harder.”

Victor raised his brows. “So what should I do? Fall to my knees and cry? Beg as if I want half his fortune? I only want his daughter.” He grinned, but his arrogance carried a childish edge.

Vivian’s eyes filled with tears. “No, it is not like that. You still have gum in your mouth. And your tattoo is showing. Your hair is uncombed. Put down your sleeves. Please, Victor.”

He chuckled. “Madam, don’t get me started. This is who I am. If your father won’t accept me, let him go burn the sea. I already have what I want. It is just a matter of finishing touches.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Victor? Come on…”

High above, Mr. Dary watched them from an upstairs window. He could not hear their words, but their body language was enough to inflame his temper. His face darkened.

He retrieved his gun and descended the stairs.

⸻####

Inside the hall, Vivian paused. The air smelled of polished wood and memory. Everything was as she remembered………except for one detail.

Her pictures were gone.

Portraits of relatives, both living and dead, still decorated the walls, yet her own images had vanished as though she had never existed.

Her chest tightened. It felt like a quiet rejection, a heartbreak sharper than she expected. But this was not the time to cry.

Victor, meanwhile, looked around with undisguised fascination. The house practically shouted its wealth. He smiled to himself, imagining the Dary empire under his future rule.

His daydreams were cut short.

“Vivian, if you know what is good for you, stay where you are and explain why you have come,” Mr. Dary’s voice boomed from the living room. His tone was dry, cold.

“Dad…” Vivian’s tears finally spilled.

Victor’s patience snapped. “Mr. Dary, you cannot marry your own daughter. Let her live her life.”

“Victor!” Vivian pleaded, knowing the danger in her father’s silence.

“We have been together,” Victor continued recklessly, “and now….”

“Get out!” Mr. Dary roared.

A deafening gunshot followed.

“Ahhh!” Vivian screamed.

⸻

A splash of icy water brought Pascaline back to consciousness. Her clothes clung to her skin, drenched and heavy. She blinked, disoriented, and then her gaze lifted.

Her sister stood before her.

Emilia seized Pascaline’s chin and forced her head up. A knife glinted in her other hand, the blade pressing lightly against Pascaline’s neck. It was not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to bruise.

Pascaline did not move. She did not flinch. The stillness in her eyes unsettled everyone….the maids, the guards, even Mrs. Dary herself.

Emilia’s voice trembled with rage. “How dare you? How dare you try to ruin everything? You think you can be free? You are here for a reason. I decide your life. I control your destiny.”

She pressed the knife harder.

“I could kill you,” Emilia hissed. “I could have killed you that day, but out of pity I let you live. No one wants you. No one cares. Everyone has forgotten you.

“Now listen, Pascaline. Either you die here, or you stay forever. You will never be free.”

She released her sister’s face and let her head drop.

“No food for three days,” she commanded, turning to leave.

The guards lowered their eyes. The room fell silent except for the slow drip of water from Pascaline’s soaked hair.

She sat motionless, her heart beating with a quiet fury that no one could see.