The switch
1413 Words
The ride back home felt endless.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
Brenda sat quietly in the back seat, staring at the blurred city beyond the glass.
Morris occasionally glanced at her through the rearview mirror but wisely remained silent.
She appreciated that because her thoughts were a complete mess.
Everything just seemed tangled together.
For five years, she had followed a plan.
A simple plan, get close to the Maxwell family, gain access to resources, find the truth and leave.
It had never been complicated.
She wasn't supposed to care or supposed to get attached.
Yet somewhere along the way, things had changed.
And now she was paying the price for it.
"Ma'am?"
Morris's voice interrupted her thoughts.
Brenda blinked.
The car had stopped.
They were home.
"Thank you." She said as she stepped out into the cool evening air.
The moment she entered the house, her eyes landed on the enormous wedding portrait hanging above the staircase.
Brenda stopped walking for several seconds, she simply stared.
The woman in the photograph looked happy. The man beside her looked protective.
Anyone looking at the portrait would think they were deeply in love.
A couple blessed by fate.
A husband and wife building a future together.
Brenda almost laughed, what a convincing lie.
The picture had been taken during their first year of marriage.
Drake's arm rested around her waist.
Back then, she had conditioned herself not to hope. Not to imagine or expect.
Yet somehow she had done all three.
Slowly and quietly without realizing it she had built dreams around moments that were never meant to mean anything.
A birthday gift, a concerned text, late-night conversation.
The way he remembered her coffee order.
The way he always made sure she ate whenever she skipped meals.
Small dangerous things because comfort had a way of disguising itself as love.
And fools often mistook one for the other.
A lump formed in her throat.
She looked away.
"Welcome home, Ma'am."
A maid's cheerful voice pulled her back to reality.
Brenda nodded politely.
"Thank you."
Then she headed upstairs and her leg felt heavy.
The bedroom looked exactly the same.
Nothing had changed yet everything felt different.
Brenda walked to the bedside table and opened her handbag.
Grandpa's letter stared back at her.
She unfolded it again as if the words would magically change.
There is something else you must know.
If you leave now, you will never find the truth.
Brenda closed her eyes.
"Why?" she whispered.
The room offered no answer.
Why hadn't Grandpa explained?
Why leave her with riddles and most of it he had to wait until after his death?
Frustration built inside her, for years she had chased answers. Now even Grandpa had left her with more questions.
She sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion settled over her shoulders.
Her original plan was gone.
The divorce was supposed to happen tomorrow.
Everything had been prepared.
The documents, arrangements, everything. But now?
Grandpa wanted her to stay and the worst part?
A small part of her wanted to stay too.
Not because of the investigation or the Maxwell family and even the warning
But because of Drake.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She hated admitting it, even to herself.
The realization was both humiliating and heartbreaking.
Because love was useless when it wasn't returned.
Elsie's face appeared in her mind. She lowered her head. Perhaps that was why he had agreed to the divorce so easily.
There had always been someone else.
Someone he truly wanted, who wasn't bound to him by a contract.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She quickly wiped it away.
Then another followed and another.
Soon she could no longer stop them.
The grief came without warning.
Not just for Drake or the marriage.
For everything, her family. For five wasted years, every answer she still didn't have.
For every goodbye she wasn't ready to say.
She covered her mouth as a sob escaped.
The room blurred, her shoulders shook and for the first time in a very long time, Brenda allowed herself to break.
Minutes passed and eventually the tears slowed.
Brenda opened a hidden drawer and brought out a box, inside was a worn out photo, an old newspaper and a locket.
She held the photo.. it was a picture of a family of four, her mom, dad and sister, they smiled so bright.
Brenda touched the picture.. “I shouldn't have been left behind.“
She wiped her face quickly.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
Brenda stared at the picture.
Five years of chasing shadows and now she was right back where she started.
Lost, confused and alone.
A sudden sound drifted through the room.
Headlights flashed across the bedroom wall.
She wasn't expecting Drake to be back now.
Slowly, she rose from the bed and walked toward the window.
The black Rolls-Royce pulled into the driveway.
Her heart skipped.
Brenda watched as he stepped out of the vehicle with a briefcase in his hands.
The porch lights illuminated his tall figure.
For several moments he simply stood there.
Not entering the house or moving.
Just standing there like something was weighing heavily on his mind.
Then unexpectedly, he looked up.
Directly toward her window.
Brenda froze.
The distance between them was too great for him to see her clearly.
Yet somehow it felt as though their eyes met.
Brenda slowly stepped away from the window.
Her heartbeat had become uneven again.
The divorce papers were possibly in that suitcase,
Her family deserved justice and Drake...
Drake belonged to someone else.
She closed her eyes.
For the first time since entering the Maxwell family five years ago...
She wasn't afraid of staying, she was terrified that a part of her no longer wanted to leave but how could she possibly tell him that..
Drake didn't go to the master's bedroom directly, he went to his study.
He lowered the letter the lawyer gave him, he had read it after dropping Elsie off at her hotel.
His grandfather's words refused to leave his mind.
Your marriage to Brenda was never an accident.
Protect her.
Do not divorce her.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Nothing about this made sense.
For five years, he had believed their marriage was a simple arrangement.
A contract and a mutually beneficial agreement.
Now his grandfather was telling him otherwise.
Worse... Brenda knew something.
He was certain of it. The look on her face in the garden flashed through his mind.
She had been deceiving him all these years? He hated lies and somehow he had been the fool here. His jaw tightened and something snapped inside him.
He left the study and headed upstairs.
The master bedroom door was slightly open.
Then he pushed the door wider.
Brenda was standing by the window.
She turned at the sound and their eyes met.
Drake stepped inside and then shut the door behind him.
The sound echoed through the room.
Brenda's fingers tightened slightly at her sides.
Then he placed Grandpa's letter on the table.
The color drained from her face.
She recognized it instantly, it was just like the letter grandpa had given her but Drake's name was engraved on it.
"You lied to me." Drake muttered walking closer to her.
Brenda's heart skips.
"What?"
Drake's voice was calm, but there was something dangerous underneath.
"You knew more than you told me."
Brenda looked away.
"And what about you?"
"What about me?"
"You never told me who she was."
The words slip out before she can stop them.
Drake frowned.
"Elsie?"
Brenda immediately regrets it.
The room fell silent.
Then Drake takes a step closer.
"Are you jealous?"
Her face burned. "I'm not."
"Then remember your place?" He said coldly.
"We're getting divorced, so it doesn't matter." Brenda stammered.
Something flashed in Drake's eyes.
"Funny, because that isn't happening any time soon."
Brenda's breath hitched.
"What?"
"The divorce is off."
She was beyond stunned.
"Why?" She asked.
Drake held her gaze.
"Because my grandfather spent five years protecting you."
Brenda froze.
"What are you talking about?"
"You really don't know, do you?"
He studied her face and then said
"Diana Anderson."
Her blood turned cold.
Nobody has called her that name in ten years.
She stared at him.. His eyes were dark now, she hadn't seen him in that expression before.
“You wanted to use me right. You'll eventually beg to leave this marriage.”
- Writer
