Candle in a Black Hole

Chapter 12

Maya’s Bedroom, Zandier Estate

The Following Morning

Knock... Knock...

The rapping at the door forced Maya’s eyes open, though she was consumed by an all-encompassing exhaustion. She hadn't enjoyed a single minute of restorative sleep throughout the night; a state of pure paranoia had gnawed at her soul, compelling her to strain her ears for any sign of footsteps in the corridor. She had been terrified that Alex would exercise his marital rights and storm the room to take her while she was defenceless. Yet, in the end, a hollow silence had been her only companion. He had not ventured a single step near her quarters.

Maya scrambled from the bed before the second knock could sound.

"Yes...?"

She wrenched the door open, only to be met by Auntie Na, who stood as motionless as an automaton. The hand the housekeeper had been about to raise for a second knock remained suspended in mid-air.

"Madam, we depart in thirty minutes," Auntie Na reported in a flat, indifferent tone.

"What!!... Th-thirty minutes! Why on earth didn't you wake me sooner, Auntie!" Maya gasped in a panic. She slammed the door shut and spun around to seize her luggage from the corner—only to freeze in utter shock.

The large suitcase that had been sitting prominently in the corner... had vanished!

Maya’s heart plummeted. She was certain she hadn't fallen into such a deep slumber that she would have been oblivious to someone entering. She had been on high alert all night, yet her belongings had disappeared without a trace. Had someone slunk into the room during a mere second of unintended dozing? The thought sent a violent shiver down her spine.

However, realising that time was a luxury she no longer possessed, she was forced to cast her suspicions aside. She bolted into the bathroom, making a frantic dash to ready herself within the vanishing minutes.

Maya snatched garments from the wardrobe and threw them on haphazardly. In one hand, she clutched her high heels; in the other, she gripped her smartphone—her vital 'thirty-third organ'—with a white-knuckled intensity. She lunged out of the room, charging toward the Grand Hall.

Yet, the moment her feet touched the floor of the main corridor, the sordid memories of yesterday—of being crushed by his lips before the entire household—returned to haunt her. Her pace faltered. Her face burned with such searing humiliation that she yearned to turn back, lock herself away, and cancel this wretched journey altogether.

In the end, however, Maya knew she had no choice. She had to steel herself and drag her weary body and battered heart down to face the devil in her husband’s guise once more.

The Grand Hall, Zandier Estate

Alex sat with his legs crossed on the expansive leather sofa, his attention anchored to the tablet in his hand. His expression was composed, yet he radiated an innate pressure that filled the room. He was the one who had commanded the maid to wake her twice; he knew perfectly well that his little doe would have been too petrified to catch a wink of sleep all night. It seemed his intuition was flawless.

The moment the sound of frantic, rapid footsteps echoed from the staircase, Alex looked up to witness the spectacle.

Maya lunged into view, looking utterly dishevelled. In one hand, she clutched her high heels; in the other, she gripped her smartphone as if it were her final talisman. Her hair was a tangled mess, a testament to the fact she hadn’t even the seconds required to brush it.

Yet, what arrested his gaze most was the vivid, dark brand contrasting against her ivory skin. The bite mark—a souvenir of his savagery from the day before—was now glaringly exposed for everyone in the hall to see. In her haste, she hadn't even found the time to dab on a bit of concealer.

"I... I..." Maya came to a halt, gasping for air, her face pale and frantic. She had only managed to slap on some sunscreen haphazardly; to ask for serums or a polished face of make-up would have been a fantasy. She considered it a mercy simply for not having tumbled down the stairs.

Alex rose to his full, imposing height. A dark smirk tugged at his lips, satisfied to see his mark still so prominent upon her. He felt a twisted sense of triumph; her desperation had stripped away any shields she might have used to mask his presence.

"Let us depart," he commanded curtly, before striding toward the main entrance.

Maya scrambled to shove her feet into her heels, nearly losing her balance in the process. She was forced into a half-run, half-walk to keep pace with his broad-shouldered silhouette. 'What a bloody nightmare!' she cursed inwardly, her short legs having to take two or three frantic strides just to match a single effortless step of his. The sensation of being a duckling trailing behind a tyrannical leader left her both exhausted and profoundly humiliated.

The Destination International Airport

Throughout the duration of the flight, Maya sat so rigidly that her legs were on the verge of cramping. The image of Alex's sheer audacity remained seared into her mind—the way he had sauntered into the cockpit with an insufferable amount of confidence. Simply because he had arranged a sudden flight schedule and the private pilot hadn't arrived in time, he was far too impatient to wait for anyone.

'A depraved beast who spends his days choking people is actually going to fly a bloody aeroplane!' That was the solitary thought looping through her brain as the aircraft took off.

Yet, much to her disbelief, the wheels eventually made contact with the runway of their destination with a touch as light as silk. Maya disembarked with trembling steps, her face as ghostly and blanched as a sheet of parchment.

The moment her feet touched the solid concrete of the airfield, she surreptitiously clutched her chest, mentally offering prayers to every deity across the realm—spirits she hadn't bothered to acknowledge once in her entire life.

"Thank the heavens..." she muttered to herself with profound relief. "For not letting me plummet to my death in mid-air with that lunatic."

The New Badi Group Headquarters

(Regional Office)

Maya sat as rigid as a statue within the armoured vehicle throughout the journey. She found Alex’s way of life utterly incomprehensible; from commandeering a private aircraft to the seamless clearing of airport routes so that no prying eyes could photograph the 'missing' Madam Zandier in her dishevelled state. And then there was this—an armoured motorcade with security so tight it bordered on the absurd. ‘Is it a King travelling, or what?’ she wondered.

Crucially, the man beside her hadn't spared her a single glance. He remained anchored to his tablet, working with such focus that she felt like mere oxygen.

Maya began to question exactly what manner of creature she had married.

When the vehicle pulled to a halt before a grand office building, bustling with the chaos of a full-scale renovation, Maya disembarked in a daze. Suddenly, Yaya—who had been standing beside Banhan (Maya's father) and wearing a safety helmet that looked positively bizarre to Maya—rushed toward her.

"Maya, my darling child!!!" Yaya cried, clutching her daughter’s arm in distress. "How on earth did you get here?"

Just as Maya opened her mouth to reply, Alex—having donned his own safety helmet—strode around the car toward her. He produced another helmet and, with a lingering gentleness, meticulously secured it onto Maya’s head. His gestures were so warm, so overflowing with the tenderness of a devoted husband, that it left the onlookers and her family utterly charmed.

Maya felt her sanity slipping away. She stood frozen, watching Alex’s performance with complete bafflement. ‘What is this man playing at?’ Moments ago in the car, he had been as cold as a stranger; yet, before her parents, he had suddenly transformed into the quintessential doting husband.

"Let us take this conversation inside," Alex suggested, his voice dropping into a rich, melodic timber that was disconcertingly pleasant to the ear. "It is far too sweltering and hazardous out here." He offered Maya a soft, lingering look before turning a charming smile toward his mother-in-law. "I have only just registered the marriage with my wife... I should hate for there to be any whispers that I have failed to care for her properly."

The word "wife" slipping from Alex’s tongue made Maya’s skin crawl. She offered a dazed, mechanical nod, her mind screaming to pinch her own arm or seize his lapels and demand: "Who are you? What have you done with the real Alex Zandier? Is he possessed or has his soul been usurped like in one of those period novels I read!"

For the Alex she had known mere hours ago was the brute who had bruised her jaw and ravaged her lips in the Grand Hall. But the man before her now looked like a prince stepped straight from the pages of a fairytale romance.

"Quite right, Maya... come inside, darling. If your father knew you were here, he would be absolutely overjoyed," Yaya said, her face lighting up at the sight of her son-in-law’s protective demeanour. The anxieties that had once weighed heavily upon her regarding her daughter’s marriage to a ruthless mobster began to evaporate instantly.

The Temporary Offices, Badi Group Headquarters

(New Location)

Inside the makeshift office, the air was thick with the aroma of roasted coffee and the sharp scent of blueprints. Maya entered, her heart hammering an erratic rhythm against her ribs. Grandfather Frost was already there, composed, sipping his coffee with an air of aesthetic detachment. Her father, Banhan, was in the midst of seating himself when he caught sight of his daughter and Alex; he froze so abruptly he nearly fumbled the mug in his hand.

"Maya, my dear..." Banhan murmured, his voice trailing off. He averted his gaze instantly, a profound sense of paternal guilt etched across his features—the look of a man who knew precisely into whose hands he had "delivered" his child.

"Well now... Maya, my dear. I quite expected you to arrive with old Pin this afternoon," Grandfather Frost greeted her, his tone as soft and honeyed as a kindly patriarch who had played no part in any sinister machinations.

"I have an overseas conference this afternoon... hence our early arrival," Alex replied flatly. He moved to seat himself in a grand leather chair, but as he did, his heavy hand snaked around Maya’s slender waist. He hauled her toward the adjacent chair with an absolute, possessive entitlement.

To any onlooker, it appeared to be the attentive gesture of a husband desiring his wife by his side. But to Maya, the searing heat of his palm against her waist felt like a set of invisible shackles.

'Is this truly the same man?' Maya screamed internally, her mind reeling. She stole a glance at Alex’s profile—he sat there, playing the role of the poised tycoon and the devoted husband to perfection. It was a jarring contrast to the memory of his hand bruising her jaw just the day before. How could he switch masks as effortlessly as a chameleon changing hues? He acted as though the livid marks on her neck did not exist, as though he had never threatened her, and as though her father’s inability to meet her eyes was not a direct consequence of his overwhelming power.

The atmosphere in the room, which seemed so celebratory to an outsider, left Maya feeling as though she were encased within invisible glass walls. The men discussed the firm’s trajectory and joint ventures with relish, while she sat motionless—a mere "trophy wife" pinned to her seat by Alex’s unrelenting grip.

Maya was forced to endure a barrage of dizzying business jargon—discussions of budgets, joint ventures, and the revised architecture of the Badi Group. All the while, Alex’s heavy hand remained anchored to her waist, his fingers kneading and releasing her flesh with the casual entitlement of a man stroking a prized pet for his own amusement during a briefing.

As the stifling tension reached its zenith, Maya summoned what remained of her resolve.

“If you please... may I be excused to the powder room?” she ventured, looking up to seek his leave.

Alex, who had been listening intently to a senior engineer, went still for a fleeting second. He slowly lowered his gaze to the woman at his side, his sea-green eyes shimmering as they bored into her golden-brown depths, as if appraising the value of a fine asset.

“Very well... but do not dally.”

“I shall accompany her, darling,” Yaya interjected swiftly, seizing the opportunity she had been awaiting to speak with her daughter.

Maya bit her lip and offered a sharp nod. She stole a glance at Banhan, whose features remained etched with a grim severity, before attempting to pry away the massive hand shackling her waist. However, before she could rise, Alex leaned in close until the searing heat of his breath fanned against her ear.

He moved his lips to whisper in a chilling cadence, audible only to her amidst the hushed conference room.

“Do not act as though you have taken leave of your senses... do I make myself clear?”

With the threat delivered, his palm tightened around her slender waist, digging into the very same spot until a sharp, searing pain rippled through her entire frame. Maya gasped, a lump of pure terror lodging itself in her throat, threatening to choke her.

She was forced to suppress her tremors, treading toward her mother with footsteps as leaden as if she were bound by invisible irons.

The Restrooms, Behind the Office

Upon arriving at the restrooms just a short distance away, Maya was struck by a numbing chill. There stood the towering figure of Barshow, looming like a sentinel. He acted as a "shadow"—a silent proclamation that escape was an impossibility. Maya swiftly pulled her mother into the ladies' room, desperate to wring the truth from her.

"Mother... tell me straight," Maya whispered, her voice fractured with reproach. "Why was the firm relocated here? I thought I was already sent to him as a sacrificial lamb to settle things."

Yaya swallowed hard, her face draining of colour as she darted paranoid glances around the room. She hurried her daughter into a narrow cubicle and bolted the door before leaning in to whisper in the hushed tones of a conspirator.

"Maya... what you and I shall never comprehend is the 'power play' at work. That is what your father and Grandfather Pin say..." Yaya gripped her daughter’s small hands tightly. "We were in debt—terrifyingly so. They have been struggling to keep the firm afloat for an age. Had you not agreed to wed Alex by this past Monday, our home would have been repossessed instantly. Your father simply hadn't the funds left to pay them!"

The revelation felt as though the entire world had collapsed upon her. Maya’s legs went weak, and she nearly slumped against the damp, musty wall of the cubicle.

"M-Mother... what are you saying?"

"I don't entirely grasp it myself... I only know that your marriage was the final straw thrown to us in the depths of the crisis." Yaya shook her head in weary dejection, her confusion as vast as her daughter’s.

Then, her eyes caught the vivid, crimson bite mark on Maya’s neck. Her aged, weathered hand reached out to touch it with feather-light gentleness. "Does it hurt, my child...?"

At the sight of that brand—a mark signifying she was now the shackled property of another—tears welled in Yaya’s eyes. Seeing this, Maya forced back her own frailty. She reached out to brush away her mother’s tears.

"Do not cry, Mother... we mustn't arouse suspicion. We are merely here for a brief moment."

Maya cut the conversation short, though the agony in her heart was beyond words. Now, the truth was laid bare: she hadn't married merely to "save" the firm; she had "purchased" the very breath of everyone in her household. And Alex was the life-creditor, ready to claim interest from her body whenever he so desired.

Outside the Temporary Offices

Maya returned from the restrooms feeling like an entirely different woman. The crushing weight of the truth—the debts and the imminent repossession of her home—made every step feel as though she were wading through lead.

She looked up and faltered, finding the towering silhouette of Alex waiting outside the makeshift office. He was no longer seated within; instead, he stood with a composed, commanding air, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket. His piercing gaze locked onto her the very instant she appeared. Maya could not fathom why he felt compelled to stand guard, as if petrified she might vanish into thin air. In her current state, however, she had no choice but to force herself back toward him.

Alex spared her a fleeting glance before speaking in the clipped, professional tone of a strict businessman.

"We must return to the hotel immediately... I have a video conference in an hour," he informed her as soon as she drew near.

He then turned to his mother-in-law, his features shifting into a mask of practiced politeness. "My apologies, Mother. My schedule is quite relentless, I'm afraid."

He offered Yaya a civil smile before swiftly winding a heavy arm around Maya’s slender waist. The sudden pressure of his grip was a silent command, ushering her toward the motorcade of armoured vehicles that sat idling nearby.

Maya could only steal one final glance at her mother, her eyes still brimming with unanswered questions and the lingering traces of terror. She was forced to let him lead her away, like a precious commodity that the owner refused to leave unattended.

'A video conference... or is that merely a pretext to drag me back into your private cage?' Maya wondered with mounting dread as the vehicle pulled away, heading toward the hotel.