The Blind Box Mistress Chapter 2

The next few days, I lived like a true housekeeper.

Time quickly passed, bringing the anniversary of my father's passing.

In the early morning, I held a bouquet of pristine white chrysanthemums, my fingertips icy.

Every year on this day, no matter how busy Barry was, he would accompany me to the cemetery.

He would hold my trembling hand and whisper to my father's stern photo on the tombstone, "Dad, I'll take good care of Anya."

But now...

My phone vibrated. It was Barry.

"Scarlett woke up feeling dizzy this morning. Stay home and keep her company. I don't trust leaving her alone."

I clutched the flower stems, my knuckles white.

"Barry, today is the anniversary of my father's passing."

There was a second of silence on the other end, only the faint rustle of papers.

"I know. I'll go to the cemetery myself. You just stay home."

"Barry!" My voice trembled. "That's my father!"

"Anya,"

His tone held a warning edge of impatience.

"Scarlett is pregnant and needs looking after. Can't you be more understanding? Don't make things difficult for me."

The call disconnected.

I stood in the empty living room,

Still clutching the flowers I'd prepared for my father,

Shivering with cold.

Finally, I gently placed the bouquet on the console table by the entrance and turned towards the study.

I needed to do something,

To distract myself from this pain that was tearing me apart.

I opened my laptop and logged into a dormant account, stripped of its original access.

I began to review years of financial records, page by page.

I don't know how much time passed,

When a faint, sharp sound of shattering porcelain came from upstairs.

My heart leaped, and I rushed out of the study.

The sound came from my bedroom.

Pushing open the door, the sight before me sent my blood rushing to my head, then freezing solid.

Scarlett was half-reclining on my bed, wearing my silk nightgown.

On the floor, my sky-blue crackle-glazed porcelain vase, which used to sit on my bedside table, lay in shattered pieces.

Amidst the shards,

Several torn old letters were scattered – letters my father had written to me a week before he passed.

I had carefully folded them and hidden them at the bottom of the vase.

They were my last precious mementos of him.

Scarlett still clutched half a letter in her hand,

Reading with interest: "Anya, the only thing I'm truly worried about in this life is you. Barry is cunning, and you are too honest. You must be more careful."

Seeing me, she didn't panic. Instead, she flashed a smile that was both innocent and cruel.

"Anya, oh, I'm so sorry, I just wanted to lie on your bed for a bit, and I accidentally knocked over this vase. This letter is so touching, your dad was really good to you."

She wiggled the half-sheet of paper in her hand,

Then, the moment I lunged to snatch it,

"Rip!"

The paper was easily torn in half, and she casually tossed it to the floor.

I had never dared to even wrinkle that letter.

Now, this mistress had torn it to shreds so easily.

"Scarlett!"

I lunged and gripped her throat tightly!

"Ah! You... let go..."

Her eyes widened in terror, her hands clawing wildly at my forearms.

"How dare you..."

My eyes were bloodshot, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably as I squeezed with all my might.

"How dare you touch my father's things! How dare you tear up his letter!"

"Stop!"

A furious roar erupted, and a tremendous force slammed into my side.

Barry had kicked me,

And I fell hard onto the cold floor,

My back hitting the vanity table, sending bottles and jars crashing down.

"Barry! She's trying to kill me! She's trying to kill our baby!"

Scarlett immediately threw herself into Barry's arms, crying uncontrollably,

Red marks starkly visible on her neck from my grip.

Barry held her tightly,

His eyes fixed on me, filled with undisguised rage and disgust.

"Anya! You're insane!" he bellowed.

"Look at yourself! You look like a lunatic! A shrew!"

I tried to push myself up,

The searing pain in my side was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

I looked at Scarlett, nestled in his arms, and suddenly began to laugh softly.

My laughter grew, tinged with desperate madness.

"Lunatic? Yes, I'm a lunatic."

I looked up, staring intently at Barry. "Barry, why didn't you tell your little mistress why you're allowing her to have this illegitimate child?"

Barry's body stiffened abruptly.

Scarlett's crying also stopped, and she looked at him with confusion.

I laughed until tears streamed down my face. "Because you know perfectly well that I can never have children again!"

"Barry, do I need to remind you? Back when we just started our business, how I was pushed down the stairs by creditors while protecting your 'core documents', miscarrying our four-month-old child, and becoming unable to be a mother ever again?!"

Barry's face instantly turned incredibly ugly, a mix of green and white.

A flicker of guilt and shame crossed his eyes, but it was immediately replaced by deeper fury and humiliation.

"Shut up!" he sharply cut me off.

"What's the point of bringing up ancient history?"

He pulled Scarlett closer, speaking in a cold voice.

"Tomorrow, I'll contact a private clinic. You need a period of quiet recuperation."

With that, he didn't look at me again,

Carefully helping the sobbing Scarlett out of my bedroom.

The door slammed shut.

I collapsed onto the cold floor, tears soaking my collar.

He had begged my father to marry me, kneeling for three days and three nights.

He cried and held me, promising he'd never let me suffer.

When we first started the company, we were so poor we could barely afford food, but he still bought me a ring.

When my father passed away, I was heartbroken, and Barry stayed with me every moment.

In those first few years, we had a warm and loving little home.

But I don't know when it started, he frequently didn't come home, grew impatient with me, and even cheated.

The young man who swore to love me for a lifetime,

Now, for an assistant, wanted to send me to a psychiatric facility.