14

                                    

                                          

**Emilia**
"That's great news, Mom," I said, trying to inject enthusiasm into my voice as I spoke to her over the phone. She was telling me how the money I'd sent over the weekend had paid off some of our debts. It was a relief to hear her sound happy again, even if it was tinged with a hint of desperation.
"When are you coming home, Mija?" she asked after a pause, her voice softening with longing.
I hesitated, my throat tightening. "Soon, Mom," I whispered, hating myself for the lie that followed. "I just have to finish up some work with the Greys first." It wasn't entirely false – I was working, after all, just not in the way she imagined.
"Okay, be careful," she replied, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. I could picture her face, worry lines etched around her eyes, deepening with each passing day.
"Bye, Mom," I said finally, ending the call before the guilt could overwhelm me.
I'd promised myself I wouldn't cry anymore, but with each passing day, it became increasingly difficult to keep that vow. Lately, I'd taken to locking myself in my room, a self-imposed exile since Damien humiliated me yet again. He hadn't said it outright, but the way he'd snubbed me afterward spoke volumes. I didn't need to be a genius to decipher his thoughts.
I couldn't really blame him. These days, I could hardly recognize myself. Sighing heavily, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would wash away some of the weariness that seemed to cling to me like a second skin.
For a few moments, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the girl gazing back at me seemed like a stranger – hollow-eyed and pale, with shadows under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and heavy burdens.
Shaking off the melancholy, I turned off the tap and steeled myself to face another day. With any luck, I wouldn't make a complete fool of myself this time.
As I opened the bedroom door, I was momentarily dazzled by the brightness of the hallway. Squinting against the light, I tugged my oversized sweater tightly around my body and made my way to the kitchen. There, I found Mary leaning against the counter, lost in thought, a steaming mug of coffee cradled in her hands.
"Are you okay?" I asked, settling into a chair at the dining table.
Mary's eyes flickered up from her coffee, meeting mine with a hint of surprise. "Yes," she answered quickly, bringing the mug to her lips. After a sip, she asked, "Have you by any chance seen my daughter Nina anywhere?"
I couldn't hide the shock on my face. "You have a daughter?"
She chuckled a warm sound that seemed to brighten the kitchen. "Yes, though it's not always my proudest moment."
"I'm sorry," I stammered, feeling foolish. "It's just... I wasn't aware you had any family besides the Greys."
Mary's smile turned wistful as she set down her mug. "It's understandable for you to think that. I've spent half my life in this house." Her voice grew serious as she continued, "But that's a discussion for another day. I made omelets."
She reached for a plate on the counter and placed it in front of me, the smell of eggs and cheese making my stomach growl despite myself.
I managed a grateful smile. "Thank you."
Just then, a whirlwind of blonde hair and youthful energy burst into the dining room. "Mom!" the newcomer called out before her eyes landed on me. "Um, who's the new girl?"
"Emilia," I answered, watching as her eyes widened in recognition.
"You're—" she began, but Mary cut her off with a sharp look.
"That's enough, Nina," Mary warned, her tone brooking no argument.
*At least now I know how people see me*, I thought bitterly.
Nina rolled her eyes at her mother before plopping down in the chair beside me. "I'm Nina," she said, extending her hand with a grin.
"Emilia," I replied, shaking it and offering a tentative smile in return.
"Oh! We are going to have so much fun!" Nina squealed, her enthusiasm infectious despite my reservations.
After breakfast, Nina and I found ourselves sitting by the fountain in the expansive Grey estate gardens. We talked about everything and nothing, but the conversation inevitably circled back to the Greys and their eccentricities. Nina's animated chatter made the prospect of the coming months seem almost tolerable.
"Especially Kim," Nina said, her nose wrinkling in distaste. The name snapped me out of my reverie.
"Who's Kim?" I asked, curiosity piqued.
Nina's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry! Of course, you don't know who she is. You should consider yourself lucky – she's the worst." She rolled her eyes dramatically before continuing, "I mean, she acts all nice around the Greys, but she's a complete witch to everyone else."
As Nina rambled on about this mysterious Kim, my curiosity only grew. Finally, I held up a hand to interrupt her tirade. "Nina," I said softly, raising an eyebrow in silent question.
"Oh! Sorry again," she said, looking sheepish. "Kim is Damien's fiancée. She's a model in New York or something." Nina's words faded into background noise as the implications of what she'd just said sank in.
*Damien is engaged.*
The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless. I struggled to keep my face neutral as Nina continued to chatter, oblivious to the turmoil her words had caused. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of conversations and stolen glances that suddenly took on new meaning.
As Nina's voice faded back into focus, I realized she was looking at me expectantly, waiting for a response to a question I hadn't heard. I forced a smile, hoping it didn't look as brittle as it felt.
"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady despite the chaos in my head.
Nina laughed, the sound carefree and light. "I was just asking if you wanted to go into town later. There's this cute little boutique I've been dying to check out."
I nodded, grateful for the distraction. "That sounds great," I lied, wondering how I was going to make it through the rest of the day, let alone the coming months,
As we stood to head back to the house, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the fountain's still water. The face looking back at me was a mask of composure, betraying none of the turmoil beneath. I realized then that slowly I was becoming exactly what Damien had accused me of being – a fraud, playing a part in a world I didn't belong in.
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