Sinking With You

Potential

Aria burst through the front door, trying to catch her breath, shallow gasps as she sprinted to the small room she shared with her best friend, Mabel. Her heart raced like a chaotic rhythm, not merely from the exertion of her brief sprint but from the chilling sight she had just witnessed—something that should have remained hidden in the shadows of the Wilsons’ home. The image of Derrick looming over his victim, a deadly grip around their throat, replayed in her mind like a horror movie scene that she couldn't unsee.

For a moment, Aria stood frozen and indecisive. The instinct to retreat, to ignore what she had just witnessed, and to stay out of Derrick's business clashed fiercely with an overwhelming desire to intervene and save the life of whoever Derrick was choking. With steely determination, she grabbed her phone and its screen, casting a soft glow in the dim hallway, and clutched a makeshift weapon—a sturdy kitchen knife—tightly in her other hand. Each cautious step was calculated, her ears straining to catch any hint of noise in the still night.

When she reached the darkened corner of the backyard where she had seen Derrick, her blood ran cold. He was gone. The air felt heavy with an unsettling silence, and as she switched on her phone’s flashlight, the beam swept across the ground, illuminating the patchy grass and scattered debris, but revealing no sign of a struggle or the figure she had feared for. The darkness swallowed everything, making her previous courage feel fragile and fleeting. Fear twisted her stomach into knots, and with a heavy heart filled with dread and disappointment, she turned and hurried back inside, the door closing behind her with a soft, ominous click…

***

Aria strolled toward the garden, where the sun dappled the ground through the leaves, casting playful shadows on the three men seated at a table. Daniel laughed heartily, his infectious joy lighting up the air. Derrick sat with a bottle of champagne poised in his hand, exuding charisma mixed with an intimidating aura. Andre lounged, his expression a blend of unease and jealousy as Aria approached, her heart pounding in her chest with every step. The haunting memory of the previous night played relentlessly in her mind.

“I’m really happy you finally agreed to join the company. I know you’ll do well,” Daniel said, his eyes twinkling with excitement as he tapped Derrick on the shoulder.

“Thank you for believing in me,” Derrick replied, his gaze burning into Aria, who struggled to maintain her composure.

“Don’t get him all hyped up, Dad; we still don’t know if he has any potential,” Andre interjected, his voice dripping with bitterness, jealousy seeping from every word he uttered.

Derrick turned to Andre, a scoff escaping his lips. “And what would you know about potential? Last time I checked, your position in the company hadn’t budged in four years. Now I call that awfully far from having potential,” he retorted, his eyes glinting with mockery.

“At least it’s better than being a r****t and murderer for twelve whole years,” Andre shot back, his legs trembling in agitation, the words bursting from him like a storm.

The air turned thick with tension as Aria froze. She could feel Derrick’s penetrating gaze on her, but fear rooted her to the spot, rendering her unable to look back.

“Be careful of what you accuse your brother of,” Daniel warned.

“Accusation? Dad, the girl he brought home last night is dead,” Andre defended.

“What? Is that true?” Daniel asked, his face turning pale in shock.

“Wait, Dad. Are you surprised?” Andre asked, a blend of disbelief and triumph lighting up his face.

“I do not know what he’s talking about,” Derrick said, his voice calm but laced with menace that sent chills down Aria’s spine.

Tempted to confront Derrick’s deceit, Aria wished she had returned to the scene a bit earlier; perhaps then, the tragic fate of the girl would’ve been different.

“Of course, I didn’t expect you to own up to your sins; you’re just like your sly and scheming mother,” Andre spat, his voice quaking yet tainted with audacity.

Derrick’s expression darkened, a surge of fury transforming his demeanor. “What did you just say?” he demanded, each word dripping with a chilling menace.

“You heard me,” Andre replied, feigning bravery, though his face glittered with a growing fear.

Aria could feel the mounting tension in the air, a fragile thread ready to snap. She knew Andre had crossed a line, and Derrick’s response would come crashing down with devastating consequences.

“Say that again,” Derrick challenged, stepping forward, his aura changing to a dark one.

“Enough of this madness! Don’t you have any regard for me at all?” Daniel yelled, his booming voice cutting through the air.

Turning to Aria Derrick asked. “Were you not assigned as my personal maid?.”

“Ye…yes sir, I…,” Aria tried to speak.

“To your duty post, now,” he yelled, before walking away.

Andre also stood up and walked away followed closely by Daniel, whose shoulders hanged in visible disappointment. Aria swiftly cleared off the remnants of their earlier gathering from the table before she made her way to Derrick's mansion.

As she stepped into the expansive sitting room, an immediate chill enveloped her, the intimidating atmosphere thickening around her. The air felt almost suffocating as Aria's eyes swept the room, searching intently for Derrick, but he was nowhere to be found. After a thorough inspection of the meticulously organized downstairs, which sparkled as if it had just been polished, Aria found no hint of a task waiting for her attention.

With a mixture of fear and resolve, she ascended the staircase, each step echoing her growing anxiety. Standing before Derrick’s door, she whispered a silent prayer for courage, inhaled deeply, and entered the room.

Inside, Aria glanced around, but there was no sign of Derrick. Her eyes were drawn to his closet, which now seemed like her best chance to find something meaningful to do.

She grasped the doorknob, opened the door of the closet, and stepped inside. To her dismay, it was just as immaculate as the rest of the house; no forgotten garments on the floor, no dust settled on the shelves. Despite her efforts, it appeared that Derrick maintained a level of order that rendered her presence almost unnecessary.

As she scanned the floor near his neatly arranged shoe rack, her gaze caught sight of a handbag—a woman's handbag. Approaching it with caution, she unzipped the bag only to find a shocking sight: clothing stained with dark splotches that resembled blood, alongside a single, half-destroyed heel. A chill raced down her spine.

“Looking for something?” a low, yet deep voice interrupted her.

Startled, Aria spun around to find Derrick standing there, his tall frame draped only in a damp towel that clung to his sculpted physique. Her eyes fell on his wet lashes, then to his lips, and slowly, she followed the beads of water that trailed down his hard chest to his v-shaped torso. Caught off-guard, she felt her breath hitch in her throat, her heart pounding in a heady mix of confusion and embarrassment.

“Yes, um, no! I… I actually came to fulfill my duties,” Aria stammered, her eyes darting away from his piercing gaze to focus on the floor instead.

“I see,” he replied with an air of indifference that seemed to mask an underlying tension.

With a casual yet deliberate stride, Derrick moved from the closet into the main room, the muscles in his back flexing beneath the fabric of the towel. As he reached the entrance, the unmistakable click of the lock resonated through the silence, sending a jolt of fear through Aria. It felt as though the walls were closing in on her. A few seconds later, he returned and stepped back into the closet. Unable to break her gaze, Aria watched, hypnotized, as he strode gracefully toward her.