Chapter 4 THE NEW AYANA

“You are pathetically sentimental if you think, even for a second, that we care about that child of yours. It is just a mere risk we are willing to take just to be humans. She at least deserves some education. Hopefully, she will value it and not end up like you. That is all!”

If I ever kill someone in this world, it will be this bitch I call my sister. I guess her cheek is no longer hurting, which is why her stinking mouth is running again.

“You know, I could remind you how to be respectful since you seem to have forgotten,” I say, dropping my hands from my chest.

She takes a step back, raising her hands in the air sarcastically. Well, at least she knows I will not think twice about slapping the shit out of her. Stupid bitch!

“I did not come here to fight.” She says this, dropping her hands and crossing them on her chest.

“I guessed as much. And if Lyana was the only reason you bothered to come here, then you already have the answer. We are done here, so leave before I sweep this floor with your hair.” I turn to start on my ongoing painting, but her voice stops me before I can even take a step.

“Not so fast!”

I turn around, and we lock eyes.

I knew there was something. I could not have been mistaken. I know them too well.

“Be quick because I have no time. What do you want?” I ask impatiently, curiosity stroking me pretty badly. And worry too. Because this cannot be anything close to good.

She heaves a deep sigh and breathes out a huge amount of air.

“Our company is facing a crisis.” She says, looking everywhere but into my eyes.

A moment of pure lull passes. I am trying to meditate on why I need to know that bullshit. How is that my business? I am practically nobody in this family. I was stripped of everything that day when I was thrown into this cell. They never involved me in anything. I don't even know what they told the public about me because nobody asks about my whereabouts. Not even my friends. And now, out of the blue, their company is facing a crisis, and boom, Ayana Salma needs to know. Well, I am not the crisis, am I?

“Didn’t you hear me at all?” Cynthia queries me after a long while, deciding to finally look at me.

"I did! I am not deaf, you know. I heard you loud and clear. And yeah, I know about it. I saw some pieces of the story in the news.” I retort flatly.

“And?” she asks.

Huh?!

Okay, fool! And I don't give a fuck whether the damn company was swept away by the pandemic and submerged in the Red Sea, or whether it has attained the emblem of the top fucking company in the whole world! Sha! Give me a break! These people can be such pestiferous asses. How can they perturb me with something as stupid as what their company is doing? What the hell do I care? How are their losses or gains for my business?

“And what, Cynthia? Do you expect me to perhaps say anything?” I quiz, feeling pissed off. And I really am pissed.

“Aren't you going to ask how we are holding up? The state of the company, and what we are doing to get it back to stability again?”

You know, forget this acerbic, beamy smirk on my lips that is enough to light up this room. If only my child was not sleeping some distance away from me, this room’s walls would be shaking from the echoes of my laughter. Like, seriously? How absurd her stupid rhetorical questions are! How cliche!

Oh, am I supposed to care about them and their freaking situation? How about me, huh? Who the hell cared about me when they robbed me of even my mere freedom? Who still cares about my state and how I am holding up in this hell of a life, huh? They've got some nerve! Well, this might be karma for all they know! Serves them pretty right!

“Read my lips carefully, Cynthia, and make sure you do not miss even a single letter from my lips.” I speak, drawing her into a conflicting whirlwind of stupor, dubiety, and reverence. Then I speak boldly, like Mahatma Gadhi, not even blinking, because I need them to have a clear mental image of what a bold bitch they have turned me into. “I do not care one bit! In fact, I would throw a feast if the company went bankrupt and there was nothing left of it to save! Tell that to your parents.”

She blinks countless times, battling to digest what she just heard, and I stand boldly, giving her ample time to settle herself. She swallows hard, finally, after battling with her emotions. She then dragged her eyes away from me, still in disbelief and bewildered by what I said.

“We are still your family, Ayana. You cannot be this heartless to us.” Her voice is placid and perceptible, as if something strong is holding it back.

“I learned from the best, Cynthia. You people made me this way. And just to be clear, I do not have a family.” I state, drawing her into a daze.

“You still bear our name, Ayana. You are still a De’Mario, and nothing can change that. So this, our problem, is also yours, Ayana.” She says.

“I would drop this fucking name as soon as this second if only I had a way, because I scorn the mere notion of being associated with heartless beings like you all. We are not a family. You all broke that bond the minute you subjected me and my child to this kind of life. Now you deal with your own problems like I have been dealing with mine alone!” I affirm.

She breathes out a sigh, wearing her signature crown of arrogance.

“I thought we could talk this out as civilized sisters, but I guess there is no way that is possible. It is best if you hear what I had to say to you directly from Mom and Dad!”

Hang on! What had she had to say? So I was right all along. There is more to this. But what?

“What exactly do you mean?” I implore, curiosity surging in like a savage stream.

“We are expecting you for dinner tomorrow at the mansion. Don't keep us waiting.” She says, just like that, and she starts to the door.

Hello? Which mansion? The one I haven't set foot in for the last almost six years? The one my child is not permitted to even get near to or take a sneak peek at its insides? The temerity of these people is disgustingly on a top-notch level. They even have the guts to summon me to that stinking mansion?

“Hold on, Cynthia!” I call before she opens the door. She turns around. “I am not setting foot in that repellent mansion. Tell your parents that if they need me, they know where to find me. Close the door behind you.” I state, and I mean every single word.

She tries to say something, but a single glare from me shuts her up. She walks out to go relay the message, while I am left baffled, banging my head over what they really want from me.