Shattered
1707 Words
Chapter Four – Shattered
“Huh… I wanted to tell you since,” I said, my voice trembling.
“I… I got a loan from the bank. I used my machines as collateral,” I lied.
Ivana’s eyes widened, her face softening as guilt spread across her features.
“Oh, Soraya, that’s so good of you. You really did that for us? And here I was—doubting you, accusing you. I haven’t been a good elder sister to you or Jenna. You’re sacrificing your machines while I was doing nothing. I’m sorry.”
Her words cut deeper than any insult could. I pulled her close, stroking her back to calm her trembling.
“It’s fine. You didn’t know,” I whispered.
“But I should have trusted you.”
“It’s okay,” I said again, though my voice cracked.
“I promise I’ll be a better sister to you from now on,” she vowed.
I forced a small smile. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
I watched her leave my room, the guilt clawing through me like fire. The moment the door shut, I collapsed to the floor. I had never felt so disgusted in myself. I couldn’t even look in the mirror. That night, I cried myself to sleep.
---
The next morning, I dressed for war.
A cropped top clung to my waist, layered under a short embellished jacket. A tailored skirt with straps and pockets hugged my hips, paired with knee-high socks and buckled boots that gave an edge to the look.
My hair fell in soft, dark curls, bangs brushing my eyes, while my makeup was bold—winged liner sharp as blades, smoky shadow, dramatic lashes, and a berry lip that whispered rebellion.
Cardan had rented me a fashion house, staffed it, and handed me the title of entrepreneur. On the surface, I was successful. But beneath the silk and steel, the expense of luxury was killing me. I was becoming someone I never wanted to be.
At the office, Sasha’s name flashed across my phone.
“Sorry to disturb you,” she said softly. “Could you meet me? Please.”
An hour later, I found her at a glamorous restaurant. Her eyes were red, her hands trembling as she spoke.
“My husband, Cardan… I tried talking to him last night. He ignored me and went straight to bed.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just needed someone to talk to.”
“It’s fine,” I said gently, sliding her a handkerchief.
“He doesn’t want to listen to me. He totally ignores me.”
We talked a little longer before I stood. “I should get back to work.”
“You were at work? I’m so sorry. I don’t understand work things… I’m just a housewife.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Goodbye, girl.”
“Bye,” I whispered.
As I left, guilt gnawed at me. I was her enemy, her husband’s concubine, her unseen rival. Only if she knew.
---
That evening, Cardan’s secretary called. A car came for me, as always. The ride was silent, rain streaking the windows. Once, I loved the rain. Now I felt I didn’t deserve its beauty.
After another night in his arms, the weight became unbearable.
“She feels like you hate her,” I murmured.
Cardan froze. His robe hung loose, chest half-bared. His eyes narrowed.
“Sasha. You’re still talking to my wife?” His tone was sharp, dangerous.
“She called me after you made her cry,” I said, defiant.
“Wow. What are you now, her savior?”
“Stop! Just… treat her well.”
“I told you not to see her.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you acted like her husband—loved her, even if she can’t conceive.”
The words were out before I could stop them. His fury burned.
“You sleep with her husband and act like a saint?” he spat.
“I’m paid for it. No attachment,” I snapped back.
“You get paid for sleeping with me. Same definition as a slut.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“Oh, you hate people crossing boundaries?” His voice was cold, merciless. “You are always dismissible, Soraya. Never special. Draw that phrase as a tattoo on your hand.”
He disappeared into the shower, leaving me shattered. He was right. I wasn’t special.
---
I returned home, only to find my family gathered for dinner.
“Oh, you’re back early,” Mom said.
“What’s she doing here? Is our place suddenly good enough for you?” I snapped at Jenna.
“I invited her,” Ivana interjected.
“Why?”
“Sora, I’m sorry,” Jenna whispered.
“You’re not sorry,” I barked.
“Dave is fine now. Don’t be dramatic,” Mom scolded.
“Dramatic? This ‘dramatic’ girl pays your bills, feeds you, and works herself half to death for this family. Enjoy your dinner.”
I stormed out, even as I heard Mom whisper to Jenna, She’ll come around. But I knew I wouldn’t.
My phone buzzed. A message from Sasha: Thank you for listening today.
The weight of it all crushed me. I grabbed cash, ignored my family’s voices calling after me, and headed to the bar—the place where it all began.
Drink after drink blurred the pain. A man sat beside me, broad-shouldered, quiet, drinking too. Somewhere between sips and sobs, I told him everything. My shame. My family. My heartache. Tears fell, but for once, I felt lighter.
When I stumbled, he caught me—strong arms, steady grip. I hugged him tightly, desperate for an anchor.
The next morning, I woke with a pounding head. The room was unfamiliar. My skin was bare. I looked down—naked.
Terror ripped through me.
“Whoever is writing my fate,” I whispered hoarsely, “is wicked.”
Then I screamed.
Cardan burst into the room at the sound of my scream. My chest heaved, my pulse still frantic, until my eyes landed on him.
“Thank goodness it’s you,” I breathed, though relief quickly gave way to irritation. “Hey—what happened to your rule about not touching a woman when she’s drunk?”
A slow, mocking smile tugged at his lips. “We have a deal. Besides…” His eyes swept over me deliberately. “You wanted me just as badly.”
“Over my dead body,” I snapped.
“Careful,” he murmured, pointing to himself with smug confidence. “Everyone wants a taste of this.”
I hated how right he was. Cardan was dangerously magnetic—tall, slender yet built, with a jawline sharp enough to wound. His almond-shaped eyes carried storms, shadowed by a small birthmark just beneath, making them even more striking. Jet-black hair, still damp from a shower, fell across his pale skin. His lips—cherry-pink, soft, infuriatingly kissable—moved with a subtle smirk. And the scent that clung to him—rich, addictive, impossible to name—pulled at me like a forgotten flavor I craved but couldn’t place.
I rolled my eyes, fighting the heat that crept into my cheeks.
“I like it better when you’re drunk,” he added casually, his dimples flashing when he laughed.
I recoiled. “That’s disgusting.”
The laughter lingered in the air, taunting me, until his gaze hardened.
“The first time I touched you,” he said coldly, “I also discovered your pathetic little life.”
The words sliced sharper than his jawline ever could.
"And you also broke the confidentiality agreement"
his face went cruel
“I was drunk—that’s the only reason. I’m sorry,” I pleaded, my voice low, almost breaking.
Cardan’s expression was unreadable, his tone clipped. “If you can’t control your mouth when you drink, then stop drinking.”
“I’ll pardon you this once… because you confessed your pathetic little life,” he added, the words sharp as glass.
My breath caught. “What… what exactly did I say?”
He turned his back, already walking toward the door.
“Cardan, did I tell you everything? About me?” I pressed, panic slipping into my voice.
“Get dressed. I’ll drop you off at your house,” was all he said before disappearing down the hall.
“f**k,” I whispered, burying my face in my hands.
When I looked up, a neatly folded outfit had been left on the chair. I slipped into it—it fit perfectly, like it had been chosen with me in mind. Yet when he re-entered the room, he didn’t so much as glance at the clothes on me.
“Order something to eat before we go,” he said, his tone flat.
“Aren’t you eating?” I asked cautiously.
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“You should,” I countered softly. “It’s good for your health.”
He ignored me completely.
I ordered a simple meal, forcing myself to eat under his silence, and when I was done, we left.
The morning air of the hallway felt heavier than outside. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor as Cardan walked ahead, his silence like a wall between us.
I clutched my bag, eyes down, trying to keep my thoughts from devouring me. That’s when I caught sight of a familiar figure at the far end of the corridor.
My stomach twisted violently.
Jenna.
She wasn’t alone—her husband’s hand was laced tightly with hers as they made their way toward the reception desk, the glow of someone about to check out.
My breath caught in my throat. If she looked up, if she saw me stepping out of a hotel room with Cardan…
No. No, no, no.
I froze mid-step, panic flooding my veins. My secret—our secret—was dangling by a thread.
“Gracious Lord,” I whispered under my breath, clutching the strap of my bag so hard my knuckles whitened.
- Writer
