Mercy

Ordeal.

How starved you must have been that my heart became a meal for your ego- Amanda torroni
 
Ordeal:noun
An unpleasant or prolonged experience.                       

                     Chapter 3

It wasn't much of a surprise. Those close to us-friends, family, even the neighbors-knew that Leonard and I were far from the perfect couple. We argued almost constantly. Leonard resented the fact that ours was an arranged marriage, one of mere convenience. To him, I was nothing more than an employee, my sole purpose being to produce an heir-a job I was utterly miserable at. I remembered Leonard telling me once that he would have a child, whether by me or another woman. At the time, I thought he was bluffing, that he respected me enough to keep to our vows.

But as I sat in the silence of our home, I recalled the voice of the priest on our wedding day: "For better or for worse," he had said. I guess my husband couldn't settle for the worse. "For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health." How could Leonard love me when I couldn't give him the one thing he wanted? "To love and to cherish..." I was never meant to be loved; I was merely a vessel. "Till death do us part." At least he fulfilled that vow.

The detective's words reverberated in my thoughts: "Sometimes people do things they wouldn't otherwise-out of jealousy, revenge, fear. It's worth considering, don't you think?" Our maid, Agatha, was a woman I had always thought of as a riant soul. She never spoke unless spoken to, never tired, never idled. If anything, she was one of my most hardworking servants. Deep down, I knew she had no control over what happened that night. I knew my husband and how forceful he could get.

**Flashback: A Few Months Before Leonard died.
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"Leonard, stop," I said, gently pushing him away as he tried to pull me closer, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. Lately, it had become a routine-he'd come home drunk, frustrated, and then pass out. But tonight, something was different. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was an unsettling look in them, a mixture of anger and desperation that made me uneasy.

Feeling a knot of fear tightening in my chest, I slowly backed away, trying to keep a safe distance. But his mood shifted quickly, his frustration bubbling over. "Aren't you my wife? You're supposed to be with me," he said, his voice rough and slurred as he reached for me again, undoing the tie of my robe.

"Leonard, please, you're going to hurt the baby," I pleaded, my voice trembling as I gently pushed him back. I tried to make my way toward the door, hoping to de-escalate the situation by creating some space between us.

But as I turned to leave, I felt his hand grip my arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop me in my tracks. Panic surged through me, but I fought to stay calm, knowing that reacting too strongly might make things worse. My eyes stung with unshed tears as I felt a rough tug causing me to stumble harshly. I reached out to steady myself the adrenaline coursing through me as I instinctively cradled my growing belly.

I wasn't able to steady myself as I came crashing down the flight of stairs, Agatha appeared to my side her eyes wide with concern. "It's fine, it's fine "it was just a little push she should hold the blood in " I clutched my belly trying to steady my breathing as my vision blurred with tears Leonard had already turned away, mumbling something under his breath but his words were lost to me as darkness closed in.
---
My chest felt heavy as I recalled the event that had nearly taken my life. After that night, I cared for Agatha like she was my own sister. But now, a sense of unease gnawed at me. Something wasn't right.

Grabbing my phone, I quickly typed a message to Agatha: *Where are you? It's urgent-we need to talk.*

I tried to keep the tone as gentle as possible, though I hadn't spoken to her yet. A troubling thought crossed my mind: had my late husband forced himself on her?

---
My train of thought's were interrupted knock knock knock it's Beatrice, searching the room for anything that could possibly arouse suspicion I opened the door letting her in
As Beatrice entered the room, her usual composed smile seemed a bit too forced today, her eyes darting around before finally settling on me. There was something in her gaze-an intensity that made my skin crawl. She quickly glanced at the vase on the table, then at the drawer of my desk, her eyes lingering for just a second too long. It was almost as if she was cataloging the room, checking if anything had been moved or disturbed."Sorry to intrude," she said in a voice that was softer than usual, almost a whisper. "Sono sicuro che il detective te l'ha già detto..." She paused, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her sleeve. Was that a tremor in her hand?"Yes, but why did I hear it from him and not you?" I replied, watching her closely. Her eyes flicked away from mine, and I noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of her mouth, as if she was holding back something."Mi dispiace... but now that you know, could she be ruled out as a suspect?" Her words came out in a rush, and I could hear the undercurrent of desperation in her voice. Why was she so eager to push Agatha out of the spotlight? Was she trying to divert attention away from herself?She didn't meet my eyes again, instead focusing on the small painting on the wall behind me. I couldn't help but notice how her gaze shifted every few seconds, never resting too long on one spot. Was she nervous? Guilty? Or was she simply hiding something?"That's up to the police," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm sorry, but I have something to do. Could you come back later?""Of course," she muttered, turning to leave. But as she walked out, her eyes made one last sweep of the room, almost as if she was memorizing it. The door clicked shut behind her, and the air felt lighter, but my unease only deepened.
I picked up my other phone and saw a message from Mike.
There's something I think you should see and know about Beatrice. Meet me at 21 street tomorrow
:As I read Mike's message, a cold shiver ran down my spine. What could he have found about Beatrice? I always knew there was something off about her, something hidden beneath that polite smile and reserved demeanor. But what if Mike's discovery was more sinister than I could have imagined?Was she more involved in Leonard's life than I knew? Perhaps Leonard's death wasn't as straightforward as the detective made it seem. What if Beatrice had something to gain from his demise-something I had overlooked? Could she have been plotting something all along, hiding in plain sight, manipulating the situation to her advantage?And then, the thought that hit me like a blow to the chest: What if Beatrice wasn't just an innocent bystander? What if she was somehow connected to the events that led to Leonard's death? The way she avoided eye contact, her subtle probing questions-was it guilt, fear, or something else? And why was she so desperate to clear Agatha as a suspect? Could they be in this together?Or worse-what if Mike's message hinted at something even more personal? What if Beatrice had been involved with Leonard in ways I never imagined, and his death was a consequence of a tangled web of betrayal and deceit? The possibilities swirled in my mind, each more unsettling than the last.I felt the room closing in on me, my breath catching in my throat. I had to meet Mike and find out the truth, but deep down, I feared what I might uncover. Beatrice-could she really be the devil lurking behind that angelic facade?

                      Authors note;

🙏🏽Got my first 14 reads, honestly I'm very happy and I hope we continue to grow.