𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝

Chapter 14- Lydia

The cold porcelain of the toilet seat presses into my back, grounding me in a reality that feels like a bad dream. My breaths come in ragged gasps, each one a fight for air against the invisible fist squeezing my throat.

Eight years. That's how long I've managed to keep the past buried, a tightly sealed vault containing secrets that could shatter the life I've built so meticulously. Damien Thorne knew. He had to. He'd been my lawyer back then, the architect of my escape from a nightmare so dark I can't even whisper in the dead of night.

He'd kept my secrets, yes, but at a cost. Damien thrived on mind games, his veiled threats and barbed comments a constant reminder of the darkness I desperately outrun. The amount of hate I hold for him is a close 2nd compared to my father.

And it's not helping my condition that it's been three nights since sleep decided to abandon me. The new medication, supposed to be an improvement, is a disaster. The lack of sleep is messing with me badly, blurring the lines between reality and the ghosts of my past that constantly linger at the edges of my vision.

A metallic tang fills my mouth as I bite down on my lip, hard enough to draw a bead of blood. Tears well up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I have to think. I have to get out of here.

But my legs feel like lead, my body refusing to cooperate with the frantic commands my brain is sending. Panic claws at my throat, constricting my airway. My head throbs, a dull ache that radiates behind my eyes. My fingers tremble as I clutch the purse in my lap, the leather cool against my clammy skin.

I have to get out of here. I have to get a grip. But the panic attack has me frozen, trapped in a cage as I imagine what could happen if Theodore found out about my past.

Theo. The man who'd brought color back into my world, who'd made me believe in happiness for the first time in years. The thought of him finding out, of the trust in his kind eyes turning to disgust or worse, rejection, pity, is a physical blow that steals my breath.

No. I can't tell him.  Never. He might understand, maybe. But would he still look at me the same way? Would he still want me in his place? The thought of him looking at me differently, of the warmth in his eyes replaced by something cold and calculating is unbearable.

He might even kick me out of the penthouse. The thought sends a fresh wave of terror through me. I can't. I won't. This life, this happiness I've built with Theo, is all I have. It's all I've ever wanted. I can't lose it. Not over something that happened years ago.

Taking a shuddering breath, I force myself to focus on the here and now. Breathe. Inhale, exhale. Focus on the cold tile beneath my shaking fingers. I can do this.  One step at a time.

I force my eyes shut, willing myself to calm down. My fingers curl into fists, digging my nails into my palms, the sharp pain a grounding anchor in the storm raging inside me. I can't fall apart here, not when I need to be strong.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my breaths begin to even out. The frantic pounding of my heart recedes to a dull thud. Tears are still well in my eyes, but for now, the panic has retreated, leaving behind a cold dread that settles heavily in my gut.

With a shaky hand, I push myself up from the toilet seat, legs wobbly like jelly. I reach for the lock on the stall door. The outside world awaits, with all its dangers and uncertainties. But for now, I have to face it. I have to face Theo, face Damien, face whatever comes next. I have to gather myself, to become the person Theo thinks I am, even if it's a lie.

pushing open the restroom door, the bright lights of the hallway assaulting my already strained eyes, I step back into the throng of chattering guests.

The air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne and perfume, the cacophony of voices a relentless assault on my already frayed nerves. Three shaky breaths later, I manage to pull myself together.