Sisters, Secrets and The Stalker

Chapter Three - The Handover

Marissa’s POV

Waaaaaahhhhhhh.

The sound cut through my dream like a rusty blade. One moment, I was on a yacht off the Amalfi coast; the next, I was in a detached house in Fellsdello, listening to my youngest son’s lungs operating at full capacity.

"Ben," I whispered, nudging the mountain of duvet beside me. "Harry’s crying. It’s your turn."

A loud, rhythmic snore rumbled through the room. I drove a bony elbow into his ribs, but he just grunted and pulled the covers higher. I glanced at the clock. 5:30 a.m.

"You owe me big time," I grumbled, wrapping my dressing gown around me like armour against the morning chill.

Ten minutes later, the scale of the disaster was clear. A Level 5 Poonami. Total containment failure. I was holding a tearful, slippery Harry at arm's length when four-year-old Henry padded into the nursery.

"Henry, go and wake up Daddy," I instructed, grabbing the wet wipes. "Tell him to run a bath. Right now. Jump on him if you have to."

A second later, I heard the heavy thud of a four-year-old landing on a sleeping adult, followed by Ben’s confused shout.

When Ben finally appeared in the doorway, scratching his head with his t-shirt inside out, I handed him the squirming baby. "Since I’ve done the hard part of the clean-up, he needs a bath. He’s all yours."

The rest of the morning was a blur of chaos, salvaged only by Cleo arriving at 6:30 a.m. and dragging me out for a run along the river. By the time I returned at 9:15 a.m., my legs felt like lead, but my mind felt clearer. I headed straight upstairs to shower, desperate to wash off the "Mummy" stress before my lunch date with Tiana.

I needed an outfit that screamed 'woman', not 'functional parent'. I pulled out a turquoise velvet wrap dress with patterned chiffon sleeves, pairing it with velvet stilettos that could be classed as concealed weapons. I twisted my red hair into a fishtail braid and applied a berry-coloured lipstick.

Looking in the mirror, I finally felt like Marissa again – the woman who used to run the Masemann Books offices with an iron fist, not the exhausted woman negotiating with a toddler over Cocoa Puffs and what does and doesn't go in the toaster. I snapped a quick selfie and sent it to the Margarita Senoritas group chat.

Mari - FANDANGOS BABY!

Cleo - Damn!

Tia - I need to change!

I grabbed my purse and headed for the stairs, my heels clicking loudly on the floorboards.

Ben’s POV

"Dude, early as always!" I announced, stepping back to let Greg into the hallway.

"Brought doughnuts!" Greg grinned, stepping inside. He looked far too awake for a Saturday morning. "Hey, can I borrow your laptop for a few minutes? I sent a few messages out on LoveBomb last night, wanted to see if I got any bites."

"Go for it, it’s on the breakfast bar," I muttered, digging through the storage cupboard for spare nappies. Boys' Day was a military operation, and I couldn't afford any casualties.

I walked into the kitchen just as Greg let out a low whistle.

"Wow," Greg whispered, staring at the screen. "She actually replied. She's gorgeous, man. Look at her."

I leaned over his shoulder, expecting to see a generic internet model. Instead, my stomach dropped through the floor.

"What the hell, Greg?" I snapped.

"What?" he asked, completely oblivious.

"Why have you sent a picture of your nuts to Tiana?" I demanded, my voice low and dangerous.

"Tiana? Who's Tiana?"

I pointed a shaking finger at the fridge. Pinned there was a Polaroid of Mari, Cleo, and Tiana at a Christmas party. "She's family, Greg! That is Mari’s adoptive sister! You sent a picture of your hairy bollocks to my sister-in-law!"

The blood drained from Greg's face. "s**t. I'm so sorry, bro. It didn't click! I've never met her in person, remember? If I’d known it was her..."

I slammed my fist down on the counter, making the toaster jump. "Write her an apology. Now. A real one. And if you ever disrespect her again, you won't be welcome in this house."

Greg’s bravado vanished. He quickly typed out an apology, his fingers trembling slightly.

"Damn," I heard him mutter under his breath a moment later.

I looked up, following his gaze into the hallway. Marissa was descending the stairs.

She looked incredible. The turquoise velvet hugged every curve, and her pale skin glowed against the rich fabric. She looked like a movie star. I felt a sudden, sharp pang in my chest – a mix of intense longing and deep regret. When was the last time I had truly looked at her?

"Wow, Mummy! You look booful!" Henry shouted from the bottom step.

"Lucky bastard," Greg whispered to me, giving me a nudge. "Sorry, Mari, I didn't mean to stare. You just look so damn hot – it caught me off guard!"

"Greg!" Mari snapped, clutching her purse. "Ben, say something!"

I stepped forward, my protective instinct flaring, but the anger immediately dissolved into awe. "He's right, Mari. You look... amazing. Breathtaking, actually."

A soft blush crept up her neck, and for a second, I saw the girl I’d fallen in love with at primary school. "Thank you," she murmured.

After kissing the boys goodbye, she walked out the front door to her waiting taxi. I watched her go, a heavy realisation settling over me. I was losing her in the daily grind, and I needed to do whatever it took to win her back.