TWELVE
761 Words
Chapter 12 – Shadows That Draw Near
Two days passed.
The entire mansion was silent, yet between Xavier and Althea stood a wall that refused to break.
They ate together, met in the hallways, but no words ever crossed between them.
Their silence was like a brewing storm, waiting for the right moment to explode.
At the office, nothing seemed to change.
Lea remained busy with her papers, while Xavier buried himself in his projects.
But behind Lea’s every glance shimmered a spark of triumph—like a player savoring a victory her opponent had yet to realize.
“You see, Althea,” she said one afternoon, calmly adjusting her glasses, “some people just don’t belong in a world like this.”
She smiled faintly, but her tone carried venom.
Althea said nothing.
Yet behind her silence, a fire had begun to rise.
She wouldn’t leave without answers.
She refused to remain a victim in a world built on deceit.
That night, while everyone slept, she returned to the study.
Carrying a small flashlight, she began searching for any document that could prove the connection between Xavier and Lea.
Each drawer she opened revealed contracts, memorandums, and old company photos—until she found an unlabeled envelope.
When she opened it, her hand trembled.
Inside was the same marriage contract she had seen before…
But under Xavier’s signature, one name stood out clearly—Lea Sandoval Madrigal.
It wasn’t Clarisse’s name on the contract.
It was Lea’s.
Time seemed to freeze.
The air around her grew heavier.
And at that moment, everything made sense—the way Lea looked at him, the knowing smiles, the quiet sense of possession.
This wasn’t about business anymore.
It was about revenge.
Before she could close the drawer, footsteps echoed softly from the hallway.
Althea quickly hid behind the curtain, holding her breath.
Xavier entered.
And following him… was Lea.
“She still hasn’t left?” Lea’s tone was cold.
“I can’t send her away,” Xavier replied calmly. “I owe her honesty.”
“Honesty?” Lea scoffed, her voice laced with mockery.
“Or is it guilt, Xavier? You know she’ll never survive our world. People like her— they break easily under the weight of power.”
A sharp pain stabbed Althea’s chest.
Before she could retreat, a single sheet slipped from her hand and fell to the floor—a small sound, yet loud enough to draw Lea’s attention.
“Who’s there?” Lea snapped.
There was no use hiding now.
Althea stepped out from behind the curtain, her gaze unwavering.
“Me,” she said firmly. “And I heard everything.”
Silence.
Xavier said nothing.
Lea let out a low, taunting laugh.
“So, you finally found your courage,” she said, slowly walking closer.
“You should’ve stayed quiet, Althea. But I guess you really have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Althea tightened her grip on the document. “I don’t need courage to face the truth,” she said steadily.
“All I need to know is which of you ever knew how to love.”
Lea smiled—but it was cold, hiding a wound far deeper than hate.
“Love?” she sneered. “You really think this is about love? No, Althea. This is about justice. He took everything from me—the name, the company, even the life I was promised. And now… I’m taking it back.”
“Lea, enough!” Xavier shouted, his composure breaking. “You signed that contract. You knew what it meant!”
“Yes,” Lea’s eyes burned with fury. “And you knew how to destroy a woman the moment she stopped being useful.”
For a fleeting second, Xavier and Althea locked eyes—filled with questions, fear, and the painful weight of truth.
And in that silence, both of them finally understood:
Lea wasn’t just a secretary.
She was the wife.
And everything—the project, the lies, the love—was part of a long, calculated revenge.
Althea turned away, wiping her tears.
“If love is a game of secrets,” she whispered, her voice firm, “then it’s time I play my move.”
And she walked out of the room, leaving Xavier and Lea standing amidst the shadows of the night.
Outside, the cold wind brushed her face.
But for the first time, it wasn’t the wind of fear—
It was the wind of a new beginning… and the start of her own fight.
- Writer
