Secrets I've Held in My Heart

Chapter 20 : Martha

I'm not the villain of this story. I'm just a mother who loves her children very much.

And it's definitely not that I don't want Ava as my daughter-in-law; in fact, I want her and only her to be my daughter-in-law. I want her to be the wife of my son, and when I say 'my son,' I mean my real son, Jonas.

I mean, why wouldn't any mother want Ava to be her daughter-in-law? She is kind, elegant, talented, and now she can cook well too—I asked Sarah to put aside a small portion of her originally cooked pasta before adding chilli powder to it, just out of curiosity to know how the pasta tasted actually. However, that's not the point. The point is that she is the only heir of Rinehart. Since Noah's involvement with that hooker resulted in him being excluded from the Rinehart legacy, the billion-dollar properties and shares belong to Ava and her husband.

I still remember the day when Ava and my Jonas told Alfred about their love and desire to get married to each other. Oh my God! After ages, literally after ages, Alfred finally hugged my Jonas. It was the best day of my life. It felt like my family was finally going to be complete.

To be honest, Jonas never received the love and respect as Christian did. Jonas was always everyone's second choice. Everyone treated him as some kind of outcast. Everyone kept him behind Christian. But Ava, she changed everything. She chose MY Jonas instead of that 'perfect son' A.K.A Christian Forbes.

I had no complaints with Ava until the day she decided to marry Christian instead. She said she loved my son, but still, she didn't even try to fight for her love, not even for a day.

Just for one day, or if it is too much to ask then, just for a few hours, if she had the guts to fight for her love then today my Jonas would be in Christian's place. He would have the majority of shares and value in BARF Corp & the mansion. My son would be the head of the family. Alfred would be so proud of our Jonas, but Ava's cowardice ruined everything. She shattered my dream and my son's happiness.

Here, she joins the family breakfast all dressed up like a queen, and there my poor son has drowned himself in alcohol. Here she was smiling and laughing, and there my son was screaming and crying for her.

Each and every one of her smiles felt like a taunt to me, a constant reminder of my son's tears. The more she smiled, the deeper his sorrow dug into my heart. I couldn't bear to see her happy, not when my son was in such pain while she happily shared a bed with Christian. My determination was clear: I wouldn't allow her to find happiness over my son's tears. She will pay dearly for every tear my Jonas shed. My vengeance would be swift and merciless.

I wanted to punish Ava for my son's tears, which is why I asked Sarah to put chilli powder in Ava's pasta and ruin her ritual. The more I loved her before, the more I hate her now, and it's just the beginning. I'll make her life hell in BARF Mansion. If my son is sad, then she can't be happy either. I won't let her be.

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"Why did you do it?" Christian's voice, cold and accusing, sliced through the tense air of the room. He stood framed in the doorway, his silhouette imposing as he began to approach me, each step echoing ominously on the marble floor.

My heart raced, and I struggled to find words, stammering as his eerie vibe seemed to permeate the very walls around us. "Wha—what do yo—you mean?"

His eyes, sharp and penetrating, bore into my very soul. The weight of his accusation hung heavy in the room, casting a chilling atmosphere that sent shivers down my spine. "You don't have to act innocent, Martha." His words felt like icy daggers. "I know the truth – you're the one who ruined Ava's pasta."

As Christian continued his relentless advance toward me, the sense of unease grew, and I found myself retreating, my steps halting only when the back of my leg stumbled into the plush sofa-chair positioned in the room. I fell into the chair's seat, feeling its soft embrace offer a small comfort amidst the growing tension.

"Now the question is," Christian said, his form leaning in on the chair's armrests, effectively blocking my escape route by gripping them tightly, "Why did you do that?" His presence loomed over me, and the room seemed to shrink, suffocating me as I struggled to find an answer that would satisfy his unsettling inquiry.

My body trembled against the chair, and Christian's unsettling presence seemed to intensify. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and he exuded a chilling, almost serial killer-like aura. The fear of giving the wrong answer gnawed at me, knowing that a misstep could lead to unimaginable torture.

His eyes, burning with intensity, bored into my soul, making it feel like I was trapped in a horror movie. Despite the terror, I gathered my courage and met his gaze, not out of bravery but because of my role as his father's wife. I clung to the belief that he wouldn't harm me; his protective instincts for family ran deep, and I was part of that family.

With a mixture of defiance and desperation, I found the strength to look into his eyes and speak my truth. "I did it because I hated her. I hated the way she was happy while my son, Jonas, was depressed. And if you ask me if I regret it? Then my answer would be NO. Because everything I did was out of love. Love for my son. Not like you, who destroyed an entire million-dollar factory over a simple pasta. You're a psycho, Christian."

Christian chuckled darkly as he straightened up, his eyes still fixated on me. "It's not about a simple pasta, my dear stepmother. It's about hurting Ava. The moment you decided to hurt her, you started a war right then and there. And as they say, everything is fair in love and war. Try showing your fair love, and I'll show you my fair war."

His words hung heavy in the room, a chilling reminder of the brewing conflict between us. With an air of finality, Christian turned away and began to make his exit from the study room.

Driven by desperation and a need to appeal to his sense of reason, I sprang up from the chair and raised my voice, "It was a gift from your father." My words echoed in the room, a plea for understanding and compassion in the face of an escalating family feud.

Christian's maniacal chuckle sent shivers down my spine as he turned back to face me. His words cut deep, each one dripping with malice. "That's why I chose it. You ruined the memory of my wife's first ritual. I ruined yours. Trust me, it's a very fair game." With a sinister wink, he turned once more, heading for the door.

My blood boiled with anger and resentment. How dare he? That conniving brat had no idea what he'd unleashed. I clenched my fists, vowing silently that I would not let him and Ava live happily.

"You keep referring to her as your wife, but has she ever considered you as her husband?" I questioned, my voice laced with bitterness. I wasn't sure if they had built a genuine husband-wife relationship, but I was willing to exploit any crack in their bond to exact my revenge. Christian hadn't just destroyed my million-dollar factory; he had shattered my dreams and tarnished Alfred's symbol of love, which was why I was determined to make him doubt the love between them.

With a lopsided, villainous grin, I closed the distance between us and continued, "Why don't you go to your room and see if the tears falling from her eyes are for you, her husband, or for my son, her love—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Christian's rage erupted. He seized my neck, slamming me against a bookshelf. Panic surged through me as he tightened his grip, cutting off my words and my breath. His threat hung in the air, chilling me to the core.

"You're lucky that you're my dad's wife," he hissed, his eyes filled with a deadly intensity, "but if you ever try to ruin my wife's character again, then I won't even blink before choking my own father." Fear gripped me as I stared into his eyes, realising the depths of his fury and the dangerous territory I had entered. "Don't even imagine what I would do to you; you won't be able to sleep for ages due to the nightmares of the things I'm capable of doing."

To be continued…