CHAPTER 006: HAUNTED

Marie’s password was child’s play; Her birthday spelled backwards, everyone had always known, she hardly changed anything.

Jessie tapped it in, smirked when the home screen unlocked, slid her finger across the screen, and opened the mailbox: One from the clinic: “Your results are ready.” The subject read.

Jessie’s pulse quickened, her eyes popped into the phone. She opened the email, scrolled fast. There it was… black and white scan, dates, confirmation: eight weeks pregnant.

Jackpot! She tilted her head backward in satisfaction.

Quickly, she forwarded it to her own phone, fingers flying. Deleted the sent mail from Marie’s folder. Careful. Swift.

Then she swiped to photos, there had to be something else, something more bloody, enough to break Marie once and for all. Something cold to cripple Claret Valenti too.

Hundreds of Marie’s perfect life shone in her face. She scrolled deeper, stopped on an old one; grainy shot of a chubby baby boy in a blue shawl, big dark eyes staring at the camera.

Jessie frowned. Baby Marie barely had hair, her eyes twirled, she remembered the framed pictures downstairs. This kid had full black curls. The picture spoke volumes about something hidden,

Whatever. She screenshotted it anyway, she'd figure it out later.

Footsteps in the hall, she stood still for a moment, ears to the ground, the footsteps grew heavier… closer.

Jessie’s heart slammed, her hands shook vigorously, she couldn't afford to be seen in that room, not by anyone.

She tossed the phone onto the bed, dashed into the en-suite bathroom, pulled the door until only a hairline crack remained, her heart thumping against her ribs.

She prayed whoever it was wouldn't come into that bathroom.

Marie walked in, heels unsteady, muttering under her breath, yawning lazily. She was obviously tired of this the whole evening.

She grabbed the phone off the sheets, glanced around like she felt something off, the room had an unfamiliar mixed fragrance, then she waved it off her mind and headed back out.

Bang. Door shut.

Jessie waited ten seconds, lungs burning, then crept out. She smoothed her dress, slipped into the hallway like nothing had happened, and melted back into the mini-party like she’d never left.

Downstairs, the photographers packed their gear, cables coiling like snakes. Everyone had food and drinks to their fill already.

Marie lingered on the staircase, watching the little piano prodigy finish his final piece. The boy couldn’t be more than nine, or maybe eight… neat black tuxedo, bow tie perfect, small hands dancing over the keys like magic.

Her Mom had brought him in, with his tutor, a middle-aged man, whom Marie thought could be his father.

His music floated soft and sad, then bright and happy.

When he stopped, the room clapped. He bowed, cheeks pink, eyes shining, his tutor stood beside him, waving his fingers into the boy's dark hair.

Marie stepped down, drawn like a magnet, eyes soft instantly. She crouched to his level, pulled a handful of wrapped candies from the square tray on the glass table.

“For the best pianist I’ve ever heard,” she said, voice soft. “What's your name?” She asked, her hands fixing his collar.

“Williams… but my friends call me Liam,” His tone high, bright smile plastered on his lips.

“Oh! Well… Can I call you Liam too?” Marie asked, all smiles too, eyes moistened a little.

“Mhmmm..” the young chap nodded in affirmation,

The boy grinned hugely, took the candies, then without warning, darted between her legs, giggling as he hid in the folds of her long dress. His tutor laughed, scooped him up.

Marie’s heart twisted so hard she almost gasped. The boy’s dark curls, the shape of his smile… something about him clawed at memories she kept buried.

Nathan would be this age. This exact height. A lump clogged in her chest.

She watched the tutor carry him out, the boy waving over the man’s shoulder until the front doors closed.

Later, when the house finally quieted, Marie escaped to the back terrace. She sat on the old swing by the pool, the one hidden behind climbing vines.

The pool glowed calm blue under soft lights. Stars blinked above.

She rocked gently, a hand on her stomach.

Din’s face from dinner, those eyes that looked at her like she was worth something, a smile formed on her lips.

Then the little Piano boy. Maybe one day Nathan would run into her legs just like Liam did tonight, then she tilted the glass of juice in her hand and gulped the contents.

A noise snapped her out of it, sharp scuffle, like a shoe kicking stone, someone had bumped into something at the end of the wall,

She twisted on the swing, eyes flashing in that direction, almost twisted her neck.

Twenty feet away, in the dark stretch between pool lights and garden wall, a shadow moved. Tall. Male. Suit jacket. He bumped a metal chair… clang… then froze.

Marie’s breath caught. She quietly kept the empty glass on the green carpet, goose bumps washing over her.

The figure bolted, silhouette vanishing around the corner of the mansion.

She jumped up, heart racing, bare feet on the green carpet grass. She hurried to the edge of the light, peered into the black.

Nothing. Just the faint echo of fast footsteps on gravel.

She pressed her back to the wall, pulse thundering in her ears.

Who wears a suit at this hour?

Din and Elena left an hour ago. She and her entire family had waved them goodbye and watched their car lights disappear down the drive.

Photographers wore jeans and tees. Staff wore black polos. Someone was watching her, spying.

Her fingers turned white on the wall as she peered, hoping to catch a glance.

Her skin crawled. She hugged her arms tight around her middle, protecting the tiny life inside.

The swing creaked behind her in the breeze, she flipped herself around hastily, it was empty.

Marie stood frozen in the dark, staring at the corner where the shadow had vanished, fear cold and sharp in her chest.

The night felt suddenly huge and dangerous.

She hurriedly lifted her feet, moving back into the mansion, every strand of hair on her stood,

“Who could be spying on me?” she queried herself, burying her forehead in her palm.