The Unholy Bride: In God's Name, I Kill

Chapter 6: What Happened To The Late Steel?

Getting up from facing the toilet bowl, I walked out of the bathroom, careful not to spill the water from the cup in my hand, and went straight to the kitchen, where I brewed coffee for my husband in the same cup.

A smirk tugged the side of my lips as I stirred the coffee, and it grew wider into a full smile when I spotted my husband entering, already dressed in his office clothes—a navy blue suit and tie.

"Good morning, honey," I greeted him, walking closer to offer him the coffee I made.

"Good morning, wife," he said, kissing the top of my head before grabbing the cup of coffee and taking a sip.

Me on the other side barely managed to keep a straight face, wondering how he'd never notice when something was off with his food. Who knows what kind of crap I could've slipped in there? Leftovers from the sink? Feces from wild animals outside? Or maybe just dirty water from the toilet bowl—like the one I used to brew his coffee?

"Scarlette doesn't have school today. Could you watch over her while we're gone?" he asked after he finished his coffee.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, sure."

"Thank you, hon," he said. "I gotta go now. See you later. Love you."

I gently caressed his arm as he leaned over to kiss my head once more, and didn't let the soft smile fade from my face until he was out of sight. As the sound of his car faded, I made my way upstairs to his daughter's room, where I found her sitting on the floor, drawing messily on a piece of paper.

"Scarlette?" I called her name softly, keeping myself peeking and standing outside her door.

Slowly, she turned her head in my direction and flashed a gummy sweet smile as soon as she saw me. "Mawy."

"Can I come in?" I asked, which she nodded at.

She returned to working on her drawings, so I settled beside her, careful not to make a mess. That was when I noticed one of the things she had drawn on a crumpled piece of paper—a family, with each member's name written carelessly below them: Tata, Enzo, Scarlette, Dada. I was about to pick it up to get a better look, but Scarlette snatched it and handed me a new one.

"Mawy, Scwarlet, Dada," she said, pointing her tiny fingers to the characters she drew, making my heart twist unfavorably to what I wanted to feel, as I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy.

Aside from me, Scarlette was the most unfortunate person I know for having Roman as her father and to be born in this kind of family. She knew nothing, including the fact that she was an angel living in hell

"I'm sorry, Scarlette," I whispered to her, sending her to look up at me with innocent confusion in her eyes. "If I could just be your mother, I would." The little girl's head tilted because she couldn't understand me, but I just smiled at her and brushed her hair using my fingertips. "I wish I could change your father, but the truth is, I don't want to—because doing so would take away the reason I have to avenge myself. I've come this far, Scarlette, and I won't back down. Even if I tried to change him, it wouldn't matter, because he's evil. He feels no remorse, he takes pleasure in my suffering, and always finds ways to disrespect and tarnish me."

I could feel my chest surging with rage and disgust, so I let go of Scarlette because I was afraid I might hurt her again, and then I took a deep breath to calm myself before closing my face to the child's face.

"But, Scarlette, maybe I could use you, right?" I whispered, my breath causing the little strands of her hair to fly away. "Come on, tell me what you know. What are they hidin–"

"Mary!"

Scarlette ran away from me to greet the person who exclaimed my name, leaving me alone on the floor. "Tata!" she squealed.

"Hi, little Scarlette," Catherine greeted her back, but slightly shoved her to the side to approach me. "I'm sorry, niece, but I need to talk to Mary first."

My brows furrowed and I slowly stood up to face her. "What is it?" I asked, which Catherine firstly answered with beaming excitement in her eyes.

"I have a surprise for you! A makeover!" she shrieked, and already dragged me by the wrist before I could even protest. She took me downstairs in the living room, where three women were waiting for us with cosmetics lined up in a rack beside them.

I shook my head in disapproval. "Catherine, I don't think I need–"

"You know in this family, we don't take 'no' as an answer," she cut me off, my stomach burning from the idea of what she said because her brother was the first one to introduce me to it. "Mary, I know you're incredibly beautiful, and honestly, I'm jealous of you for it. So, please, help me become as gorgeous as you are."

I smiled at her and nodded my head to finally agree to what she wanted, earning another shriek from her. "Ladies, let's get started," she told the aestheticians.

Resting my body on the lounge chair, one of the aestheticians carefully took my hand to start with a manicure and asked, "What color of nail polish do you want?"

My brows furrowed in confusion because I hadn't painted my nails before, so I replied with, "Just leave it with a clear topcoat."

"What?" Catherine snorted. "You're too soft, sister-in-law. Paint her nails with bold red, please."

I was about to disagree again when my eyes caught the massive painting hanging in front of us—a painting of the late Steel couple, my husband and Catherine's parents.

"What happened to them? How'd they die?" I absentmindedly asked, not being able to stop myself due to curiosity.

I knew that their mother had died 18 years ago, and their father 12 years ago, but I never knew the reasons behind their deaths. I had heard various answers—or more likely, rumors—from different sources, since their family never disclosed it to the public, making me wonder what the truth was.

I shook my head and diverted my eyes from the painting. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."

Catherine unbotheredly paved her hand. "Nah, it's fine. It's been a long time ago, Mary, and since you're already part of the family, I think you should know," she said, tensing me from anticipation.

Adjusting myself on the lounge chair, I licked my lips and stared at her to prepare myself from what she was to tell me.

"I was 15 and Roman was 13 when Mom died," she started. "We were on a boat on our way to Puerto Rico for vacation, but unfortunately, there was a really bad typhoon. Our boat was striked by giant waves and it sank. Our Dad swam the deepest of the dark ocean to save me and my little brother, but he failed to save Mom. Her body was never discovered," she paused for a while to stare at the painting of her parents with a faint of sorrow and admiration dancing in her eyes. "You know, Mary, she was the only woman I looked up to. I loved her so much. I miss her voice, her hands in my hair, her cooking, and basically just everything about her."

Hearing her soft hurting voice, I couldn't help but feel sorry even though I didn't want to. Catherine used to be a little girl too, a little girl who was scarred by the death of her parents.

"As for my Dad, he died six years after Mom," she chuckled bitterly. "I witnessed how he fell into a deep depression from the death of her. Roman took after him; both their hearts break when they lose the one they love. We both saw it, Mary—how my little brother destroyed himself when Scarlette's mom died. Well, I guess that's what love does to us, right?"