Chapter 4
Bethany paused for a moment.
Then she said, "Colleen taught him to say that.
"End of recording."
She turned off the recorder and slipped it back under her pillow.
Then she turned over, curled up tightly, and closed her eyes.
In the darkness, her fist was tightly clenched.
*****
At 5:30 the next morning, it was still dark outside.
Bethany was woken up by a frantic knocking at the door.
She opened her eyes. Her whole body was burning up. Her forehead was scorching, and her lips were cracked and peeling.
The maid called from outside, "Ms. Massey, it's time to make Ms. Nelson's postpartum meal. The chef is off today, so could you take care of it?"
Bethany gripped the edge of the bed and forced herself to sit up.
Her head was pounding, and the room spun around her.
She pressed her hand to her forehead.
It was alarmingly hot.
After all that blood she lost last night, plus that glass of cold water, she'd been running a high fever since midnight.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to her feet and changed into a pair of black pants to hide the blood-soaked bandage.
When Bethany got to the kitchen, the maid already had everything ready.
All of it was for Colleen, to nourish her body.
Bethany set a pot of water to boil. As she prepare the chicken for the soup, her hands trembled so much she nearly tipped the pot over.
She gripped the stove for a moment to steady herself, then pushed on, chopping up the vegetables.
She kept at it for a full hour and a half.
When she finally carried the soup to the dining room, Aiden was already sitting at the table.
He was dressed in dark gray loungewear, checking stock prices on his phone, his brow slightly furrowed.
Bethany set the soup down at Colleen's seat and turned to leave.
"Stop," Aiden said without looking up.
He fished a black card out of his suit pocket, set it on the table, and slid it toward her.
"Go abroad for a bit, clear your head, and pick up some new clothes," he said.
Aiden lifted his gaze and looked at her.
There was no concern in his eyes.
It was a scrutinizing look.
"Don't make it look like my family is mistreating you," he said.
Bethany stood across the table, staring at the black card.
It had no spending limit.
Aiden had given her one before.
Every time she got a new bruise or suffered some fresh humiliation, he'd toss her a card, as if money could solve all problems.
It was as if her blood, her pain, her dignity, all had a price tag.
Bethany didn't reach for it.
"I don't want the card," she said.
Her voice was so hoarse she could barely get the words out.
"Just give me back my passport and ID," she said.
Aiden's fingers stilled for a moment.
He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with narrowed eyes. "Your documents are with Grandmother. It's not my call."
"Help me get them back," Bethany said.
She stared at him, her gaze emotionless.
Before Aiden could say a word, a sudden gasp came from the doorway.
Colleen was standing there, clutching the doorframe with one hand pressed to her chest, her face a perfect blend of practiced hurt and fear.
"Bethany, are you mad at me for looking after Liam?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Her lips quivered, and her eyes instantly filled with tears.
She said, "When you look at me so coldly? I... I get scared. Ever since James died, the children are all I have. Are you cursing me and the children secretly?"
By the end, Colleen's voice was trembling with sobs.
Aiden slammed his hand down on the table.
His chair slid back as he shot to his feet, his expression downright scary.
"What's with your attitude, Bethany? Colleen is simply trying to help take care of Liam. Why are you acting so cold?" Aiden snapped.
He grabbed the black card off the table and shoved it back into his pocket.
"Go outside and wash Liam's clothes. Hang them up to dry before you come back in," Aiden snapped.
Bethany didn't argue back.
She didn't even spare Colleen a glance.
She turned and walked out of the dining room.
The backyard was on the north side of the mansion, just a bare stretch of concrete with a makeshift clothesline off to the side.
The winter wind cut across her face like a knife.
She twisted the faucet, and the water was icy cold, stinging her hands.
Bethany reached into the tub. The instant her fingertips hit the water, she jerked back, shuddering.
It was freezing.
Her fingers were already stiff from the fever, and now, soaking in the icy water, her knuckles felt frozen solid. She could barely bend them.
She had to scrub each clothing over and over before it was finally clean.
The water in the basin went from clear to cloudy, so she poured it out and refilled it with fresh water.
Bethany crouched on the cold concrete, the biting wind slicing right through her thin coat, making her shiver nonstop.
Her fingers were red and swollen from the cold, the skin at her fingertips cracked open in tiny lines, seeping pinkish blood.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Bethany dried her hands on her sleeve and pulled out her phone.
It was a message from Danica.
It read: [The fake ID is ready. The boat's confirmed. You're good to go anytime. Let me know when.]
Bethany stared at the screen for several seconds, then replied: [Got it.]
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and continued scrubbing the clothes.