𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 ↳𝐓. 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲

chapter 7

The early morning sun cast a faint glow over the brothel, its feeble rays struggling to penetrate the thick curtains. The air was still, carrying a hint of stale cigarette smoke and the remnants of last night's activities. Evara lay in her bed, cocooned in the disheveled sheets, reluctant to face the day.

Suddenly, a distant voice echoed through the narrow corridors. "Evara! Evara, wake up!" Mia's urgent calls pierced through the hushed atmosphere, disrupting the uneasy quiet.

Evara groaned, rubbing her eyes and pushing herself up. The creaking of the bed frame added to the disconcerting melody of the early morning. "What the hell does she want?" Evara muttered under her breath, irritation etched on her face.

Dragging herself out of bed, Evara slipped into a faded silk robe that had seen better days. As she descended the narrow staircase, Mia's voice grew louder. "Evara, hurry up! It's important!"

Reaching the ground floor, Evara spotted Mia at the foot of the stairs, her eyes wide with a mix of urgency and distress. "What's your problem, Mia? It's too damn early for this," Evara snapped.

Mia hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Marcella is dead."

Evara froze. The words hung in the air, refusing to register. A heavy silence enveloped the dimly lit corridor. The news hit her like an unexpected blow, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

"What?" Evara finally managed to utter, her voice barely audible.

Mia nodded solemnly. "She's gone."

A surge of conflicting emotions swept through Evara – surprise, disbelief, and a strange sense of detachment. Marcella, the formidable figure who had controlled their lives for so long, was no more.

Evara's mind raced as she tried to grasp the reality of the situation. The brothel, once under Marcella's iron rule, now stood in an eerie stillness. It was a moment of reckoning, and no one quite knew what would come next.

The room felt suffocating, heavy with a mixture of grief, relief, and uncertainty. The girls huddled together, their expressions as varied as the colors in a chaotic palette. Some stared at Marcella's lifeless form with tears glistening in their eyes, others wore subtle smiles of liberation, and a few were frozen in shock, unable to comprehend the sudden void left by the departed madam.

Evara, however, stood at the threshold of the room, observing the tableau with a stoic demeanor. She couldn't afford the luxury of emotional entanglement. Death had visited the brothel, but it had not claimed her. In the midst of the emotional storm, she remained an island, untouched by the turbulent waves.

Curiosity piqued, Evara approached Marcella's body, the air thick with the scent of uncertainty. The other girls hesitated, creating a corridor for her to pass through, acknowledging her unspoken authority. Evara's gaze fixed upon the lifeless form, studying the features that once wielded power over them.

As she examined Marcella's hands, a hint of derision played on Evara's lips. Clutched within the cold grip of the deceased madam was money – a fitting symbol of her earthly pursuits. "Even in death, you cling to your precious coins," Evara muttered, her voice a dispassionate commentary on the deceased woman's priorities.

Her eyes then shifted to a small, inconspicuous box placed beside Marcella's lifeless form. Evara's curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the box, revealing a treasure trove of money, jewelry, and assorted keys. The room collectively gasped at the unexpected discovery. 

"we have earned this. Distribute it amongst yourselves." Evara spoke. 

Among the baubles and currency, Evara's gaze fell upon a familiar sight – a set of keys that once belonged to her mother. The theft of those keys had marked her entrance into this dark world, a stark reminder of the family she had lost. Fury bubbled within her as she processed the audacity of Marcella keeping them as part of her morbid collection.