CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The house was silent as Maya sat alone in her childhood bedroom, the only sounds were the ticking of a clock and the faint rustling of paper as she flipped through the pages of her mother's diary. The diary's leather cover was worn but elegant—another pristine accessory in the carefully constructed life of Kristina Cruz, the perfect wife and socialite. But as Maya read, it became clear that perfection was a lie.

Her eyes moved over the delicate handwriting, each sentence peeling back the layers of her mother's secrets. She had already discovered the truth about her real father, but the diary revealed even more—an affair spanning years with her father's best friend, Jeremiah. According to her mother's confessions, Maya had been their "miracle," a product of their love and deception. The word made Maya's stomach churn. It wasn't the kind of miracle that came with love and warmth. Her existence wasn't about her—it was about them. A trophy of their forbidden romance. A symbol of their indulgence in a life built on lies.

She clenched her jaw, flipping faster through the pages. The truth was more rotten than she'd imagined. Tiffany, her estranged aunt, hadn't disowned the family because of some vague falling out. She had discovered the affair and been blackmailed into silence. Kristina had threatened her with the knowledge of Embry's true parentage—a secret Tiffany was desperate to keep.

The final pages painted an even uglier picture. Tiffany, tired of Kristina's manipulation, was on the verge of revealing everything to Mario. Her mother had been desperate to bring Maya back into the fold, not out of love or even guilt, but as a pawn. With Maya close, she could keep Tiffany in check. If Maya were far away, her absence would raise questions—questions Kristina wasn't willing to answer.

Maya's stomach twisted in disgust as she read Kristina's strategy laid bare. She was a chess piece, not a daughter. Every act of control, every cold word, every forced expectation—it was all about protecting an image.

But not anymore.

Maya spent the next hour meticulously making copies of every incriminating page. The birth certificate. The diary entries. She found Jeremiah's contact information in a hidden address book and noted it down. Her fingers moved with sharp, deliberate intent as she made sure no secret remained hidden. When she was done, she slipped the original documents back into the hidden compartment and returned the room to its sterile perfection.

Now it was her turn to play the game.

The next day, she walked into her mother's workplace with a calm, measured pace. Her heart beat steadily—not with nerves, but with purpose. Kristina's office was sleek and modern, with glass walls that overlooked the city. The woman herself sat behind her desk, lost in paperwork, her sharp features softened by the glow of the afternoon sun.

Maya didn't knock.

She stepped inside and closed the door with a soft click, her eyes never leaving her mother. Kristina looked up, her brow furrowing in confusion before a forced smile appeared.

"Maya, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be—"

Maya cut her off with a cold smile of her own as she sauntered forward, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Funny thing, Kristina," she began, her tone as light as air. "I always wondered where my name came from. Jeremiah. It's starting to make a lot more sense now." She placed her hands on the edge of the desk and leaned in, her smile widening as she watched the colour drain from her mother's face. "Does he still work here? Or did you move your... extracurricular activities elsewhere?"

Kristina stiffened, her eyes flashing with panic before narrowing into a glare. "Maya, I don't know what nonsense you're—"

"Oh, nonsense?" Maya interrupted, lifting a folded paper from her jacket. She opened it slowly, deliberately, and held it up so her mother could see. "This nonsense?" It was a copy of her birth certificate, with Jeremiah's name glaring back in black ink.

Her mother's breath caught.

"You listen to me like a civil person," Maya said, her voice sharp, "or I send copies of this to everyone. Mario's colleagues, your social circle, even Jeremiah's precious wife. Imagine the fallout." She tilted her head, her eyes glittering with the thrill of power. "You'll lose everything. Him. The company. The life you've built. So, what do you say, Mom? You want to play nice? Or should I watch it all burn?"

Kristina's hand clenched into a fist, her knuckles turning white as she stared at her daughter. For a long, tense moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, with a slow, measured breath, Kristina leaned back in her chair.

"Fine," she whispered, her voice tight with defeat. "What do you want?"

Maya straightened her posture, exuding an air of calm authority that left no room for negotiation. Her voice was steady, but each word was sharp, cutting through the thick tension that hung between them. "It's simple. You're going to stop trying to control me. No more threats, no more manipulations. Whatever explanation you need to give Mario for my absence, that's up to you. But as far as I'm concerned, you're going to leave me the hell alone." She allowed a smirk to curve her lips, a quiet but undeniable sign of victory. "And if you even think about stepping out of line..." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in the silence. Her piercing gaze locked with Kristina's, unflinching, daring her to challenge her.

Kristina's expression tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line as her jaw clenched. "You've made your point," she admitted, her tone sharp but begrudging. She hated the loss of control, but she couldn't deny that Maya had the upper hand.

"Good." Maya turned with deliberate poise, each step purposeful as she crossed the room toward the door. Her heels clicked against the floor, the sound echoing like punctuation marks in the stillness. Just as her hand reached for the doorknob, she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes were cold, her smirk sharper now. "Oh, and Kristina? You might want to tidy up. Skeletons have a funny way of rattling loose when you least expect them."

Kristina's mouth tightened further, her silence betraying the tension bubbling just beneath the surface. But Maya didn't wait for a response. She turned back to the door and walked out without looking back, the sound of the door clicking shut behind her carrying a finality she hadn't felt before.

For the first time in her life, Maya felt something new and liberating—a sense of control. It wasn't just over Kristina, but over her own future. For so long, she had been caught in the web of her mother's manipulations and games, but now the threads were fraying, and Maya was holding the scissors.

But this wasn't over. Not yet. She had one more thing to take care of. Kristina needed to understand that this wasn't just a fleeting power play. Maya needed to ensure her mother truly understood the stakes—and that she wouldn't dare cross her again. With determination simmering beneath her composed exterior, Maya knew she had to solidify the deal. If Kristina thought this was just a game, Maya was more than ready to show her she was playing for keeps.