The clinking of crystal glasses and Belle's high-pitched laughter grated on my nerves. I couldn't focus on my book, the words blurring into meaningless shapes. I went back to the living room, pretending to grab a pen, but really, to get another peek at Belle's fiancé, Arson. Even the name felt like a threat.
He was sitting there, listening to Belle gush about their wedding. Our eyes met. He saw me, really saw me, taking in my hesitant gaze. And then, he winked. A slow, deliberate wink, heavy with unspoken promises and sinister meaning. It was an admission, a confirmation of all the ugly doubts festering in my gut.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Belle was so busy batting her eyelashes, lapping up his every word, completely oblivious. I wanted to scream, to rip her away from him, but I was paralyzed.
Then, salvation came in the form of a disappearing act. Belle and my stepmother, Grace, disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to give him all the snacks they have prepared, just for him. My refuge, my room, felt like the only safe place. I retreated to my desk, trying to lose myself in the assignment that my teacher set me to do, but the air crackled with an unspoken tension.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Arson.
He didn't even bother to knock. He just came up behind me, snaking his arms around my waist in a cloying embrace. I recoiled, pushing him away with surprising force.
"Get out," I managed, my voice shaking.
He chuckled, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Ella, right?"
"Yes," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "And get out of my room, or I will scream." The words surprised me, the sudden surge of defiance a fragile thing.
He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Do you think that you can do that? What if your Step mother comes? Whatever you say do you think she will believe you?"
He knew, he knew that I was just a slave for Grace and Belle. They had never believed me, not even once. Even if I'd explain everything, every single thing.
He continued, his voice a velvet threat cutting through my thoughts. "I am Belle's fiancé, just so you don't seem to know it yet. We're getting married this Sunday. I'm telling you, be a good girl, okay? Otherwise, I will throw you out. I know you're smart, but don't be oversmart in front of me. Understood?"
Before I could stammer a reply, the door swung open again. Grace and Belle stood in the doorway, their expressions a mixture of surprise and suspicion.
"Arson, darling, what are you doing in here?" Grace asked, her voice laced with a saccharine sweetness that always preceded her cruelty.
He smoothly deflected, offering a charming smile. "Just admiring the house, Grace. I wanted to see all of it. Ella was just showing me around." A liar. He was a vile, repulsive liar.
Grace, her lips pressed into a tight smile, turned to Belle. "Honey, why don't you take Arson back to the living room? I'm sure he'd like a glass of something cold."
As soon as they were gone, the air in the room thickened with malice. The blow came without warning, a stinging slap that sent my head snapping to the side. My cheek burned, a fiery testament to Grace's rage.
"Don't even try to look at him, okay?" she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "He is your step-sister's fiancé. He is a good man and don't even think about seducing him." With that, she turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her.
Why? Why was she so quick to assume the worst of me? Why did she always paint me as some conniving vixen? She hadn't even let me explain.
I needed to study, to escape into the world of books, but the throbbing in my cheek was a constant reminder of the injustice of it all. First, though, I needed an ice pack. The cold might not soothe the humiliation, but at least it would numb the pain. As I fumbled for ice in the freezer, the weight of the coming weekend, the looming wedding, settled on me like a suffocating blanket. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was just the beginning.