Imprisoned by secrets

Chapter 1

It all began in a large, burgundy bedroom.

Since it was a lovely summer afternoon, the room's lush interior décor was beautifully displayed by the sun rays coming through the parted curtains. The bedroom was tastefully furnished with a mauve bedside drawer, an elegant antique dresser, a large bookshelf filled with numerous psychology journals, and a king-sized bed with extra fluffy pillows.

To a large extent, the entire room was as neat as a pin, and each wooden furniture was thoroughly polished to perfection. However, the clean aura was destroyed by the chaotic energy the garments and pieces of jewelry strewn haphazardly on the bed brought.

The air was so still that it almost appeared like the bedroom was deserted. Suddenly, a slender young woman stepped out of a large adjoining closet. She gently adjusted her black silk dress until it was seductively hugging her curves before she walked to the bedroom dresser. Her feet gave way, and she sat heavily, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

With silky black extensions, dark mascara-coated lashes, beautifully lined brown eyes, sensual crimson lips, and an emerald earring adorning each ear, she could have been a raven-haired version of the goddess Aphrodite.

Although she managed to keep her face as blank and emotionless as possible, her chest rose and fell rapidly. Several beads of sweat cascaded down her forehead despite the air conditioner being on full blast. Her hands tightly gripped the corners of the dresser, almost as if she needed to steady herself.

The silence in the room was so deafening and spell-binding that the sound of a firm knock on the door caused the woman to jerk like she had been electrocuted. She blinked and exhaled slowly.

"It's unlocked," She said. Her voice was as suave and enthralling as her angelic face.

A woman wearing a lovely royal blue dress stepped into the room and shut the door smartly behind her. She looked every bit like the past beauty queen she was, with her silver-grey hair piled up elegantly onto the top of her head and her vast wrinkles beautifully accentuated by light make-up.

Her clear, intelligent eyes widened slightly when she saw the garments strewn on the bed. She glanced at the sole occupant of the room with a raised eyebrow.

"What exactly are you trying to achieve, Beatrice? I specifically told you to wear a red dress." The older woman, Leila said. Her irritation heavily doused her eloquent, sophisticated voice.

"It doesn't matter what I wear, does it? I only need to smile and wave. I believe I'm capable of doing just that, mother." Beatrice said. She didn't bother turning to look at the older woman.

Beatrice managed to sound as blunt and emotionless as she looked. The only thing that could have given her away were the vein prints on her hands as she gripped the dresser. Thankfully, Leila was too far to notice.

"I also believe you're smart enough to know precisely when to grace the crowd with your presence. Most of the guests have arrived. You need to be by your fiancé's side. After all, this party was thrown to celebrate your engagement and his birthday." Leila said.

Beatrice didn't acknowledge her mother's words. She continued staring at her reflection in the mirror. Narcissism was beneath her; she was simply lost in thought.

Eventually, she began to style her hair using various hairpins. As she did, the necklace she wore on her neck revealed itself.

It was not ruby or diamond. Neither was it gold nor silver. It was a plain glass bead necklace, the same color as the emerald earrings she wore on her ears.

The necklace was a square peg in a round hole. It was the only thing on her body that wasn't worth a fortune. It looked like a child's arts and crafts work or a cheap necklace sold in junk stores. Although it wasn't tacky on her, it simply didn't look as good as the emerald necklace she had discarded in its place.

Leila wrinkled her nose in disgust. As she was a woman who had used her beauty and charm to climb up the social ladder, seeing such a hideous necklace on her beautiful daughter felt like a slap on her face.

"That necklace doesn't go well with your earrings, Beatrice. Wouldn't you rather wear the set it came with? Or perhaps the rubies your father bought from Paris? You have been wearing that necklace for ten years. It's your engagement party. Can't you afford to take it off for one night?" Leila asked.

Beatrice didn't turn or speak. However, she stopped tying her hair and met her mother's eyes in the mirror. Her eyes were so cold and hard that the room temperature dropped by several degrees.

For Leila, it seemed like ten minutes had passed, although it had only been ten seconds. Those ten seconds inspired a bone-chilling terror that could only be likened to seeing the butt of a gun.

"Well...alright. You look lovely." Leila said eventually. Although she would never admit it, her daughter's glare unnerved her. She would be a fool to keep pushing.

"I believe I am entitled to some privacy while I finish up, mother." Beatrice continued tying up her hair. Her eyes and tone were so cold, that it sent another wave of shivers down Leila's back.

Leila's lips tightened as her eyes flashed with savage fury. The angry look almost made her ugly. It was gone in an instant.

"Thomas is waiting for you. We expect you downstairs in five minutes with a glass of champagne in your hands and an alluring smile on your lips. You are about to get married. Make sure you look as happy as a junkie on cocaine. If I have to return, you will be dragged, screaming and wailing like a common dog," Leila's lips curved upward in a satisfied smirk. She left soon after, closing the door with a sharp click.

Beatrice waited until she couldn't hear her mother's footsteps before she slammed her fists against her table.

"Bloody hell!" She swore. She was breathing so heavily that it took some time to feel the sharp sensations in her head. When she'd regained her composure, she rubbed her throbbing head tiredly before pulling out a medicine bottle with her sore hands.

After washing down her pills with a glass of water, she studied her tired eyes in the mirror. The mere thought of being in his arms made her want to hurl. Sadly, there was nothing she could do about it. The last thing she needed was for her mother to return to drag her downstairs. That would be an absolute nightmare.

Two minutes later, her hair was as neat as a pin. There was nothing that could anchor her to her room anymore. It was time for her to make her grand entrance. She had to take her place by his side, the way it had been ordained for over a decade.

"Let's get this circus on the road," Beatrice said to her reflection. She had stalled for as long as possible. It was time for the show to begin.

She turned around and left her room—like a martyr heading to the guillotine.