She can't win!
761 Words
CHAPTER 7
Uriel
I hated how her name still came up in this house. It had been three years, but Maya Grayson was still everywhere. Her old magazines were still on the coffee table, her initials were scratched into the terrace wall—and now, people couldn’t stop talking about her. Whispers that she was back. That she wasn’t hiding anymore. That she was building something bigger than before. It made my stomach churn.
I sat in Jeremy’s home office—the one Maya had once decorated in minimalist whites and greys, now completely redesigned with darker wood and chrome. Cold. Clinical. Just like I liked it. I leaned back in the leather chair and took a slow sip of wine. The glass was crystal, from the old Herbert wedding set. Maya had picked it out.
"She never dies, does she?" I muttered, spinning the chair lazily.
"You talking to yourself again?" my mother said as she walked in, tossing her bag on the couch. Her face was tight, like always. She didn’t smile much unless something cruel had happened.
"Did you hear? She’s in Paris. Loud about it this time. Wearing diamonds again like she never lost anything."
My mother scoffed. "Typical. She always did know how to get sympathy. That face alone is enough to make a man ruin his life."
I stood, pacing. "You think Jeremy knows?"
She looked at me like I was stupid. "Of course he knows. But he's not the same i***t you used to play games with. That man is colder now. Smarter. You saw what he did to the board last quarter."
"He’s not talking to anyone," I said, more to myself. "He’s shut down. Something’s off."
She raised a brow. "You still think he's yours, don’t you?"
"He is mine," I snapped. "I earned him."
She sat and crossed her legs. "You really think she’s just back for fun? No. Maya’s not the type to reappear without a plan. And if I know anything about women like her, she’s coming to reclaim everything. Even Jeremy."
I stared at my mother, my jaw tightening. "Then we cut her off before she gets the chance."
"How? She's in another country."
"People talk. Everyone talks. We just have to listen."
There was a knock at the door.
It was one of the guards. "Ma’am, the driver’s downstairs."
I dismissed him and turned back to my mother. "We need to talk to Annie. She’ll know something. She’s still in Paris, right?"
"That girl’s weak," my mother said. "I don’t trust her to hold a secret if Maya ever confronts her."
"Then we give her a reason to stay quiet."
My mother gave me a look that said she was both impressed and slightly terrified of me. Good. That was how I needed her to look. Because if there was one thing I’d learned growing up in this house—it was that softness got you nowhere.
I walked to the floor-length mirror in the hallway and stared at myself. I looked nothing like the girl who used to hide in Maya’s shadow. My curls were tighter now, neater. My nails were perfect. My skin glowed. I had money. Power. And Jeremy.
But still, it wasn’t enough.
Flashback.
I remembered the day my mother pulled me aside after Maya’s wedding. She had whispered in my ear, lipstick too red, her eyes wild.
"You don’t let that girl take everything. You hear me? You’re smarter than her. More beautiful. You deserve it."
That day, I started watching. Listening. Picking up the pieces she dropped. I’d seen how she forgot little things. Her phone left unattended. Passwords she repeated without realizing. Her mood swings. Her paranoia.
And then the night before she vanished, I found her sitting outside by the pool. Crying.
I’d stood in the shadows, watching.
Jeremy had just stormed out after one of their fights. Maya was holding her phone, her thumb shaking. I saw her delete a message. Then another.
I remember thinking, "Good. Let it all unravel."
Back to present.
Now, she was back. Stronger. And that scared me more than anything.
I walked out to the balcony and stared down at the city. My phone buzzed. It was a news alert—some article about Maya making headlines again.
I didn’t open it. I didn’t need to.
I knew exactly what kind of storm she was bringing.
And this time, I’d be ready.
Because if Maya Grayson wanted to reclaim the world, she’d have to come through me first.
And I don’t lose.
- Writer
