I look for a way to escape this hell. Despite the late hour, I want to go see Edith tonight and tell her everything. She doesn't need to live in this game as well. Part of me doesn't want to tell her, because I don't want her to feel as betrayed as I feel right now, but I can't hold it all inside. I need to tell someone, someone who'll understand my pain. I feel so horribly blindsided.
Even though all the nerves in my body want me to rush out of here and run for the hills, I am glued to this couch, this big massive mahogany leather couch. Everything is so massive in this room, in this house, it makes me feel so little, so worthless and so meaningless.
"The simple idea to have that much power over somebody excited Marcel. He has always been my submissive, so to be dominant excited him. And the more you were submitting yourself to him, the more obsessed he became with you. I actually really thought it was all real at one point, but we both know he is too far out of your league. Why would a man like him even be interested in you? I mean look at you... and look at me. Why would you even think you stood a chance? You've been clever, I'll admit that, but it wasn't enough to persuade him."
She looks at me like she wants me to react. She seems almost disappointed that I don't. I shiver in fear, not knowing what is going to happen to me, if my life is in danger. Is she just psychotic, or is she going to kill me now that she has revealed everything?
The realisation that I don't know the extent of her madness frightens me more than the actual betrayal. I clear my throat, getting ready and gathering the courage to ask to leave, but at the same time, she leans in and takes the manuscript in front of her.
"Would you like me to read what he wrote about you?" She asks me rhetorically, opening up the story at a random page.
She reads quickly through the page and doesn't find the content hurtful enough, so she turns the page to find the precise words that will end me. She doesn't know how hurt I have been before. She doesn't know that I'm used to be this broken. She hasn't been abused by Steeve and all of his friends on multiple occasions and had to suck it up. I've already been told the harshest truths about my looks, my weight and my intelligence. I've sunken into the deepest lows already... I guess I've gotten used to this pain, it doesn't scare me anymore. But the betrayal still hurts... I really thought he understood my pain, this pain, just as I wanted to help him with his. I was wrong.
"Gypsy - he named you Gypsy in this story - enters the room silently, but I could hear her steps through her flat. The weight of her curves making each step my way echo in the silence I so dearly loved to keep. I knew at that moment I had to get used to the noise her voice made, it was making me cringe at times. She has this cute and yet deplorable need to always ask questions. She wants to get to know me like a kid dissects a frog in biology classes. She wants to see my heart and that sickens me. She tries to make me talk like I'm a dictionary. She wants to ride my body like a highway, and that's the pure ecstasy she brings me. She is nothing to me than a toy I have the pleasure to corrupt. She has an innocence that tortures me with pure desire. Becoming the only thing on her mind obsesses me to a point that her weight, her looks or her personality don't matter. She is nothing more to me than a project to show how dominant and powerful I can be. I can own her to a point where she can forget who she is. I can be the only thing on her mind in a way that she'll want... no... NEED to pleasure me in any way I desire. It's so exciting to know how she loses it so easily the second I touch her... The second I murmur to her ear... The second I undress her... She isn't pretty, but the way she forgets who she is to let me be the only thing on her mind is a fucking masterpiece."
Kate stops reading at the sight of my right hand lifted in the air, begging her to stop. Not only has this been heartbreaking to know he has ever thought that of me, or only thinks that of me after everything we've shared... But what hurts me the most is his choice of word... masterpiece. For his mum and I, we used this word as a praise for him, to bring him back to his roots, the man he was before Kate. So the sad part is that he uses the same word to describe Kate's work on him and I as a masterpiece. And it isn't! It's sick!
"Is that enough for you, little thing?" She mocks me and closes the manuscript to throw it back on the table in between us.
She takes this opportunity to get up, the sleeves of her robe slowly flowing behind her as she straightens herself. She looks at me completely defeated, the motive of my visit forgotten, and lets out a laugh. My vision is blurred by tears, and I find joy in not seeing her right now. I wouldn't bear the sight of her satisfaction as a last memory.
"Then I trust you can see yourself out. I had too much fun for one night."
And just like that, I find myself alone in her big massive pride-stealing, confidence-taking living room. I came here somewhat prepared for a confrontation, and got stolen my heart, my chest cut open and my body dripping of blood, my soul leaving me by the second.
It's like my nightmare. She's killed me. She stabbed me as I was foolishly trying to salvage Marcel from her grip. It has never occurred to me that he might not want to be saved. That I made all these efforts for somebody that found comfort in forgetting his self for the sake of her instead of fighting his own demons in order to thrive.
I'm left alone in this room, air leaking out of my lungs. My breath is getting shorter, and I soon can't keep any air in. On the verge of a panic attack, I call Sophie. I try to get up to straighten my core and store more air in my lungs, but my legs find no strength. By the time she answers, I'm laid on the couch forcing myself to take deep breaths.
"Grace? Where the fuck are you? It's almost ten and I've had no news. Are you OK?" She blurs out in panic the second she picks up. "I'm worried sick."
"I... can't... breath." I try to articulate, but realise that it doesn't help her state of mind. I'm surely making her panic more. "Panic attack."
"Stay on the line. Text me what's going on."
The first thing I do is texting her the address of the house. I need her to come pick me up, I can't take the tubes back home. I can't even stand up straight.
"Alright, I'm leaving right away. Count in your head. Sing a song. It helps. I'm coming my friend. Calm down. Keep your phone close. I love you." She hangs up and I decide to follow her advice.
I put my phone on my chest, and stare directly at the ceiling. I count to twenty. Very slowly. It helps a bit. Then, I sing a song, and I see Ashley in my mind. It works, it calms me down, but tears keep falling from my eyes. I can't believe how we've ended things. Ashley really deserved more. He deserves the world, and I gave it all to Marcel.
I was such a fool. I should have seen it. He was always so sweet and caring until his phone rang. He always picked up like Pavlov's dog. Kate conditioned him in doing exactly what she wanted to get rewarded. I wonder if he was sleeping with her as a reward or if they were working on his story.
What am I saying?! I'm so corrupted, I keep thinking they weren't seeing each other when we were. They obviously were fucking while he was playing his game with me! Who am I kidding!?
I sigh and realise I can now take a breath without feeling like I'm losing half of it. I keep on breathing, but very slowly, and deeply. I test what my body can accept. And I finally feel some control over myself. Without going too fast, I straighten myself on the couch. I look up straight. I can hear a door closing in the house and I hear footsteps from upstairs. I take this as my only chance. After tonight, I'll never put a foot in this house.
It's driven by hate and revenge that I stand up and walk to the door. I open the door from which I came into the house and slam it closed. I stay inside and silently make my way back to the living room. I look for the three old wooden books and pull them. The secret door opens. It's my time to look for proofs. Maybe I'll find a contract of her dominant partnership with either Marcel or Paul. Maybe I'll find a plan with Kate's agenda to take over Wright Books.
I open every drawer, every document I find. Nothing is sealed or locked, this room being secret. I see Kate's name nowhere and begin to lose hope. I get a text a text from Sophie saying she's almost here. So, I hurry. I need to find something. But nothing...
I sigh deeply, getting desperate to find something, but clearly failing. I give a good last look around the small room and see a Modigliani on the wall behind the chair of the desk. I see it right away, I recognise the style of painting. It's the profile of a red-haired woman. Her eyes are blank, as if she is possessed. I've seen this before. In one of my classes, my Professor was a Modigliani fan, and he made us analyse some of his pieces. What is the name of this one? Her neck is elongated and her eyes are empty. I remember how much it spoke to me at the time. I guess it does more now.
Lunia Czechovska.
I get closer, trying to see any quick sign that it might be a replica. Instead, I find a mark on the wall, meaning the frame as been slid upwards a lot of times. I decide to slide it up, being very careful with the piece of art in case it's an original because I can't remember if it's exposed somewhere in a museum or a part of a personal collection.
Under this masterpiece, I see a safe. It's number coded and I sigh of relief. I don't even question myself and try to unlock it. I look at the numbers quickly and see clearly that five of them are more faded than the other five. It gives me immediately the fives numbers of the password. But I have no clue of the order.
2 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 8
The combinaisons are infinite and I can't think this through, I don't have the mindset and I don't have the time to work this out. So, I take back the frame between both hands and slide it back to its place. I'm about to leave and forfeit, but I give a last look to the piece of art in front of me.
Goodbye Lunia.
I turn back, noticing the pictures of Kate on the desk. This isn't her desk, so I feel less sad to not have found anything. I walk to the secret door when it hits me. Not knowing what this painting is, I would never have figured it out. It's a long shot, but if it works, then the odds are with me.
I slide the frame back up and press the numbers in order.
5 - 8 - 6 - 4 - 2
Lunia!
A beep is heard and the mechanism unlocks the door. I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I need to try everything in my power to find something incriminating towards Kate. And the moment I reach for the first thing I see, I realise that I've just hit the jackpot.
I touch two small booklets. It doesn't take long to understand that they're passports. I open the first one and see Kate's picture with a false name. I've got you already! Forgery of a federal document is a crime.
I keep the passports and slide them into my purse hanging on my hip. I look at the folded document I also find in the safe. Yet again, bingo! It's her prenup. I read it quickly and take a quick picture, because the content is juicy. If she ever leaves her husband, she won't have a dime of his money. There is even an adultery clause. She made it so easy for me to prove, she has such an exhaustive list of lovers.
I think her husband is of the jealous type!
Thinking that almost makes me laugh, because the wind will quickly turn her way. But I regret it as soon as I take the last item in the safe. I wasn't in a million years expecting this discovery. It proves just how jealous her husband really was, even before they were married. All the blood in my veins freezes, and I have to contain everything in me not to scream to death at the sight of the name I find in this wallet.
This is Andrew Wright's wallet.