Love Me Or I Die

CHAPTER 9

He closed the door with a thud. Lucia’s lips curled up into a smile as if she was having a sweet dream. But she would soon realize that after the sweet dream, come cruelty beyond her expectations.

After some time had passed, sunlight and natural warmth filled every corner of the room. But then, the door roughly opened.

“Madam, you really sleep a lot.” The voice was so noisy that it could burst Lucia’s eardrums. Her eyelids fluttered open. She sat up and pursed her red lips.

“You really think you’re the madam.” It could be jealousy or something else, but the maid evidently had no hint of respect for her anymore.

More so, the master said they were of the same status in the mansion.

Hence, she could make her do whatever she wanted.

“Get back to work,” said the maid in a cold tone before she walked out. She couldn’t possibly clean this huge villa by herself!

Lucia slightly lowered her eyes as she stared at the maid uniform. She picked it up and slipped on it. Indeed, she wasn’t a madam—she was lesser than a maid.

She was panting hard when she finished every single chore. She had to lean against the wall to support her tired self, while the maid, on the corner, was sitting down and leisurely eating an apple. To others, it would seem like the latter was the master, and Lucia was the servant instead.

She walked back to her own room. She did not wish to argue not because she was scared, but because this is what he wanted. If this is what pleases him, then what is there to argue about?

She changed into a new set of clothes that she just bought.

When she walked out, the maid was still on the sofa, watching the television like she was the master. Lucia did everything, so if she didn’t sit there, where would she sit?

“I’m going back to my family. You can tell Daniel or do you want to come along?”

Lucia opened the door and stood at the doorway. She did not turn to look at the maid, but she softly said, “Daniel hates me, but I am not a prisoner. Even if I owed Daniel, I do not owe you anything.”

“You…” The maid abruptly stood up, but the sound of the door closing cut her short.

Lucia, how dare she? She was just a slut that even the maid appears more innocent than her. She had no rights to become the master’s wife. She could not even compare to a maid.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She suddenly sat down, her face contorted with jealousy.

…

Standing at the door of her family, Lucia briefly recalled the way she felt when she first arrived at the mansion. Just like before, she was scared, lonely, and helpless. She knew no one would welcome her back, yet she came anyway.

She walked in. When the people inside saw her, everyone gave her a dirty look. Yes, everyone thought she had caused her step sister’s death just to marry Daniel.

There was a mourning hall in the living room, and on the hall hung a black and white portrait of Sophia. The young and living Sophia was no longer around, only a photo of her lived on.

“What are you doing here?” She had just lifted her head when she received a slap on the face. She calmly looked at the woman standing in front of her. She could see the hatred in the woman’s eyes as clear as crystal.

“You are not welcomed here. You are already Mrs.Daniel. What is your motive for coming back here? To mock Sophia? Do you want her to turn in her grave and not find peace?”

This was the first time Lucia had witnessed her mother behaving aimlessly—no, this wasn’t the first time! She was already like this since before. In her heart, she only had one daughter, and that was Sophia. To her, Lucia was her enemy.

This was her mother. The one who gave birth to her—her biological mother.

Stella took a step back as Lucia continued to stare at her. In her eyes, she could see a look of unfamiliarity mixed with faint sarcasm.

“Get out of here! I don’t want a vicious daughter like you! You have nothing to do with us,” screamed Stella  at the top of her lungs. She does not even know why she screamed like that. She only wanted Lucia to scream, so she could never see her again. Not even a glance!

Lucia simply smiled. She smiled with some self-mockery and bitterness. Tears shimmered in her eyes and under her long eyelashes.

“When have you treated me like your daughter?”

She and her mother had similar features under mild indoor lighting. No one would doubt that they were mother and daughter. But in reality, they did not behave like so.

How in the world could a mother treat her daughter in such a manner?

“What am I to you? A daughter or a tool?” She kept laughing and at the same time she cried. Stella did not have a vicious daughter, and neither did Lucia want a cruel mother like her.

“Why? All of you thought I had caused Sophia’s death. Isn’t it true? If I was the one who died in the first place, all of you would be happy. You would jump out for joy, even! In your heart, could it be that I can’t even compare to a strand of Sophia's hair?”

Stella was at a loss for words with her rhetorical questions. If Lucia died, they might have shed some hypocritical tears. But if Sophia really had caused her death, would they still blame her all the same?

So, Lucia’s life was this worthless. With the slap, it had shattered all expectations and sentiments between the mother and daughter. She no longer knew why she had made her way back to the family mansion. Did she come to accept her mother’s slap? Or to clear up things?

Sophia died. And Lucia? She was also dead.

She turned around and left without the feeling of yearning. She might never return to that place again. Her own mother said she did not have a daughter like her. This place was never her home to begin with, anyway.

Stella had a big shock. She looked at her hand and only then did she realize what she just did. She felt she had lost something—something permanent.

Steven struggled as he looked at the doorway until the silhouette vanished from his sight. Finally, he walked over to his wife and held her.

“Stella, why did you do that?” He then turned to look at his own daughter’s photo. He was grateful that he had given his heart and soul into providing for her. But…

Lucia had been Stella’s biological daughter after all.

“I was not wrong. She had caused Sophia’s death. Sophia would not be dead if not for her. She was only twenty years old.”

Stella held tightly on Steven’s shirt. She was not wrong. She really wasn’t.

“Stella…” he could only sigh. From the start until now, why was he able to look at Lucia with no hatred? But then, Sophia was his daughter. How could he not know that she had always been a tyrant ever since she was young, and that she bullied her way through everything to get what she wanted?

Stella, on the other hand, thought the man was clueless. That the only reason Lucia asked was that it was Sophia’s idea to drive that day. To say that Lucia caused Sophia's death, one might as well put the blame on the father.

But he was selfish. Daniel had already married Lucia. She had taken everything away from Sophia. And he couldn’t let Sophia lose Daniel.

*********

How many lives have been harmed?

Lucia put a hand over her face. The mildly warm sunlight fell on her face. Everyone looked at her in a weird way; some with pity, some with sarcasm, and others with accusation. She could smell the evil behind their smiles and the way they gloated over her misfortune because she knew—she had become some sort of celebrity. She had made the headlines of a newspaper. Doesn’t that at least make her a celebrity?

She looked up and suddenly… she had no idea where she should go next.

She hugged her elbows and smiled. It was a smile coated with loneliness.

Lucia—an ugly duckling. Her father was not fond of her, and her mother did not love her. Nobody loved her bald head. She closed her eyes. They were extremely dry and badly aching. Though this time, she did not cry.

Because she knew that there would be bitterer and tougher times lying in wait for her in the future.

She would love herself even if no one was there to love her.

She was not aware that a privately owned black sedan had parked not far away from her. A male passenger sat inside the sedan. He had looked at the woman who was wandering aimlessly. He exhaled circles of smoke which turned into a fog, and it slightly blurred his features. Despite that, a dark cruel look flashed in his overly penetrating gaze. It seemed to create a shade over the light.

He casually put the cigarette out with an icy smile on his thin lips.

“Start driving,” he instructed as he rolled the window down. They drove past Lucia. She remained oblivious and stayed in the same position.

When she returned to the Daniel's villa, the maid named Sally simply dumped a pile of clothes to her. Lucia gave her an indifferent look, her eyes as clear as the day which left the maid in shame.

Lucia smiled with indifference as she carried the pile of clothes and walked out. It was just laundry, but these clothes were not hers. Neither do they belong to Daniel. It belonged to Sally—a maid.

She knew that Daniel employed Sally as his way of humiliating her. Nothing else.

But she did not care because it was him.

She soaked her hands into the cold, icy water. Her fingers were frozen and were as cold as her heart. She bent down at the waist. There were frequent waves of pain stabbing at her stomach. However, she remained smiling. If one did not want to cry, the best way would be to smile.

She was no longer a complete woman.

Sally kept peering. As she turned around, she saw the calmness on Daniel's face. He was looking with no expression. She had no idea when he had stood behind her. He had witnessed her smirking at Lucia and her deliberate intentions.

“Master…” she gave a quick shudder as if she was a fallen leaf during an autumn breeze.

“You seem to have forgotten your status.” The words sounded like icy beads. For a moment, Sally felt her legs turned into jelly. His voice was chilly and combined with a face that looked aloof and somber; it would cause even a grown man to succumb under his radiating pressure. Moreover, she was a maid who had seen little of the world.

A cold draft emitted from Daniel as he walked past her, and it had caused the girl to pale. Devil. He was the devil.

He stood behind Lucia. He looked at her pair of hands that had swelled from the icy cold water. His face was expressionless. He did not attempt to stop her. He merely looked at her in indifference. He squinted his dark eye—an impassable gloom.