CHAPTER 12
1540 Words
The door creaked open again. Slowly, deliberately. Like a scene in a horror movie you don’t want to watch, but you can’t look away from either. My breath hitched. I curled tighter against the corner of the room. I already knew who it was—there was only one person who could come and go from this room like a king.
Mr. Manriquiz.
He stepped inside. His presence filled the space with something heavy and suffocating. His polished shoes tapped against the tiled floor, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. His suit was perfect, his hair combed back, not a strand out of place. But his eyes—those eyes that I expected to look at me with warmth and promises—were now frozen over with something crueler.
I wiped at my eyes, trying to pull myself together, even just a little.
“Please…” I whispered. “Please tell me what happened. I— I remember the crash, and… and Lexi—”
He didn’t even flinch at her name.
“You want to know what happened?” he said coldly, folding his arms as he stood near the bed. “You got drunk. You drove. You smashed into Lexi’s car on the highway. You shattered everything.”
I gasped, burying my mouth with both hands. “I-I didn’t mean to—”
“But you did.”
His voice cut like glass.
“I had to use every ounce of my power, wealth, and influence to keep it all under wraps,” he continued, pacing the room like a man rehearsing a press statement. “I paid off hospitals. Deleted CCTV footage. Bought silence from witnesses. Spun fake news reports.”
I blinked, stunned.
“What…?”
“No one knows where you are, Callie.”
His tone grew even colder, like ice forming in midair. “The world thinks you ran away. That you got scared and disappeared.”
My knees weakened as I sank lower to the floor, my hands trembling.
“You mean…”
I swallowed hard.
“You erased me?”
He scoffed. “I protected you, Callie. You should be on trial right now. In jail. Ruined. But instead, you're sitting here—safe. Hidden.”
I looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. “Then why does this feel like punishment?”
He stepped closer. His jaw clenched. “Because it is.”
My lips parted but no words came out.
“You ruined my future,” he said, staring down at me like I was some filthy thing on the ground. “You ruined my name. You ruined Lexi.”
A pause.
“You destroyed everything I built for us.”
“I-I’m sorry…” My voice cracked. “Please, I didn’t mean to—”
He laughed bitterly, cutting me off. “Sorry? You think that’s enough?”
I shook my head, now sobbing. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just… tell me what you want me to do, I’ll do it. Just don’t—don’t destroy my life.”
He crouched down in front of me, his face inches from mine. I could smell his cologne—sharp, expensive, unforgiving.
“That boutique you love so much?” he whispered. “That name you built so proudly? I could burn it to the ground in a single phone call. I could make sure no investor ever touches your brand again. I could ruin you completely.”
I gasped, my body convulsing with guilt and fear.
“No, please—please don’t—”
He stood again, straightening his coat. “But I won’t. Not yet.”
My heart pounded. I looked up at him through my tears. “Then what do you want from me?”
He looked at me for a long time. Quiet. Calculating.
“You owe me,” he said.
“I know…” I sobbed. “I’ll pay. I’ll do whatever—”
“Good,” he said, already turning away, heading for the door. “Then be ready when I come back. You will do everything I ask. Without questions.”
He stopped by the doorway and looked back over his shoulder.
“Because that’s the only way your precious name survives.”
And then he left.
The door shut behind him with a quiet click. The sound felt final. Like a verdict.
I sat frozen in the silence, completely still.
Everything in me was shattering.
My boutique.
My name.
My dream.
It was no longer mine.
The next morning was the same: quiet, stale, and painfully slow. I stared at the ceiling like it was the only place I could go. Time moved differently in that room. Seconds felt like hours, and silence felt louder than ever. I barely noticed the door creak open again until I heard the echo of his footsteps.
Mr. Manriquiz.
I sat up, pressing my back against the headboard, trying to steady my nerves. He entered the room like he owned it—and maybe he did. Maybe he owned me now too.
But this time, he wasn’t alone.
Behind him stood a woman, older but graceful, with a faint resemblance to Lexi. Her hair was swept neatly into a bun, her pearl earrings delicate yet commanding. I knew who she was even before she spoke.
Mrs. Cherry Bellington.
Lexi’s mother.
She stepped forward, her eyes trained on me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
"It still stinks to see your face." she said with a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “You’re supposed to be the one my daughter to call ‘maid of honor.’”
I flinched at the sarcasm. “Mrs. Bellington... I—”
“I’m not here for your excuses,” she snapped, voice suddenly sharp. “I came to ask how you’re doing. When you’ll be discharged, so that I could take your life myself.”She glanced at Mr. Manriquiz, and he didn’t meet her eyes. He simply shrugged.
“She’s not going anywhere,” he said, cold and dismissive. “That’s none of your business.”
The tension in the air shifted.
Mrs. Bellington raised her brow. “None of my business? My daughter has no legs, Darious. Her wedding is cancelled. Her life is in pieces. Everything is in chaos. So forgive me if I think all of this is my business.”
He said nothing.
The silence stretched until she exhaled heavily, turned, and walked out without another word. Her heels clicked angrily against the marble floors until the sound vanished with the slamming of the front door.
I looked at him, horrified and trembling.
“What... what did she mean?” I asked softly. “Lexi… she really just lost both—” I still couldn't believe that she's not bedridden.
He didn't even let me finish.
“She lost everything. Just like me. Because of you.”
His words were blades now, slicing through whatever strength I had left.
“I didn’t mean—” I whispered, my throat burning. “I didn’t even know she was in that car. I was drunk, yes, but I—”
“I don’t want to hear your self-pity,” he said flatly. “You should have known better.”
Tears welled in my eyes again. My body trembled from fear, guilt, and the aching realization that there was no escaping this.
I drew my knees up to my chest, curling up on the bed like a child. My voice was shaky when I finally dared to ask again.
“How long are you going to keep me locked up in here?”
He turned his head slowly, his eyes burning into mine.
“A century, if I must.”
My heart dropped.
I stared at him in disbelief. Was he serious? Was he actually planning to keep me prisoner like this forever?
“I’ve lost everything too,” I whispered. “But at least be decent when you’re locking someone up.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
I swallowed. My voice cracked, but I forced the words out.
“I need clothes,” I said, gesturing to the oversized shirt I’d been wearing for days. “I need... something. I’m still human. You can’t just—lock me up and forget that.”
He blinked, caught off guard by the request.
For the first time, he seemed to remember I was a person.
“You want clothes?”
“Yes.” I looked him dead in the eyes. “I may be broken. I may be guilty. But I still deserve to feel like I exist.”
He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at me. Not with pity. Not even with anger. Just something unreadable—like he was weighing whether or not I deserved that small ounce of dignity.
Finally, he sighed and walked out, leaving the door slightly open behind him.
I didn’t know what to make of that. Was it a sign of mercy? A game? Or just another form of control?
All I knew was that I was still here. Still trapped.
But not invisible.
Not yet.
- Writer
