The Abyss Of Love's Lies

Since my childhood, I was aware that wealth could separate people into different classes. Everyone's life race started from unique points. Yet, intelligent folks, like my sister, could surpass others.

While she joined our mother in the city, living lavishly, I remained with our dad in our rundown rural home.

But what did it matter?

Now, the man she adored shared my bed. His hands were those of a pianist. It was slender yet strong, capable of subtle control. It was no surprise she was captivated by him, chasing him relentlessly.

On this silent night, his low moan marked the peak of our encounter before it dissolved into silence.

Afterwards, he left the bed without hesitation and headed for a shower.

There I was, smoking, my back against the pillow, rigid.

I started counting the moments until he would leave.

This wasn't some hotel. It was just one of the many places Robert Stewart kept for me, his mistress.

He was my sugar daddy. Reluctantly, I acknowledged that I had fallen for him.

The world's most pathetic woman wasn't a prostitute, but one who gave her genuine love, only to be treated like a prostitute.

In our four years, our encounters were silent, limited to the confines of the bed. No matter how in sync we appeared, his demeanor remained unruffled, while I found myself getting swept away. Even during those few intense times when we forgot about being safe, he always knew when to stop just in time.

He never intended to let someone like me carry his child.

As expected, by the time I was halfway through my cigarette, he was already dressed in fresh clothes, ready to leave.

Naked and unashamed, I boldly called out his name.

The most he would offer was a brief pause in his stride, never turning to grant me a backward glance.

Watching his retreating form, I finally let the words I'd suppressed all night escape. "I hear you're getting engaged. Which fortunate family's daughter will it be?"

His response was delayed, so much so that I began to doubt I had spoken at all. The brief spurt of boldness I felt earlier faded, seeming nothing more than a daydream.

Eventually, he moved, his steps echoing as they grew further away.

When I raised my eyes to him once more, I saw him turning to close the door.

Perhaps it was the evident curiosity in my gaze that prompted him to answer at last, "Stay in your lane. You've got no right to ask that."

My throat constricted, yet I managed to let a smile flicker across my lips. "I just thought I'd send a present!"

His gaze lingered on me, filled with a confusion that mirrored my own inability to grasp his thoughts.

Yet it wasn't long before he lost interest and turned his back on me once more.

He walked away so sharply and surely, leaving only the sound of footsteps and a fleeting silhouette. The car engine's hum briefly pierced the silence before the night settled back into quiet.

I wrapped myself in a blanket and stood at the window, staring into the vast, dark night.

It brought back memories of the first night we met, on a similarly gentle autumn evening.

That year, my father was robbed and sustained a severe injury to his head. They never did catch the robber. To pay for the medical bills, I left my hometown to ask my mother in Draton for financial help.

It coincided with my sister's college graduation party. The Spencer family home was buzzing with visitors.

But the guards at the villa gate treated me like an intruder, stopping me from entering. My sister Janice Spencer, in her black graduation dress, was in the rose garden, taking photos with a bright smile. She gave me a quick look, then dismissively turned away, denying me entry.

In desperation, I latched onto a man walking by, pleading with him to let me be his plus-one.

At that moment, I thought I'd found my salvation, not knowing it was the beginning of my descent into a nightmare.

The man's name was Robert Stewart, my sister's senior at college.

He, perhaps out of curiosity, was kind enough to take me into the Spencer family.

Yet, when my remarried mother, Maren Spencer, laid eyes on me, her daughter whom she hadn't seen in a decade, there was no happiness, just anger and panic. To the guests at the Spencer family, she passed me off as a distant relative's child and dismissed me with a handful of dollars.

It was then I understood. I wasn't just abandoned by my mother; I had been wiped from her life. In the glamorous life of wealth she now led, I was an unwelcome blemish.

As the Spencer family turned me away, my successful sister was too busy coaxing Robert to dance with her to even glance my way.

Without borrowed money, my father would lose his spot in the hospital. And if he passed away, my grandmother would see me, nothing but a burden, as responsible.

That year, I was a nineteen-year-old adrift in a vast, unfamiliar city.

I sat outside the Spencers' gate like a homeless person, holding onto hope that my mother might have a change of heart. Yet, even as I nearly starved and came close to dying in the cold rain, neither of my relatives by blood showed their face.

In the end, it was Robert who took me in, tending to me as one might care for an abandoned dog.

His kindness persisted for four years.

He made arrangements for my father's transfer from a rural hospital to one in the city. Learning about my half-year hiatus from school, he offered to pay for my education. The only thing he asked in return was for me to become his mistress.

Agreeing to his terms seemed like the only viable option.

Why did I make this decision? Was it for money, or was it because of my jealousy and resentment towards my sister?

I chose not to ponder too deeply.

Often, we had been the architects of our own problems.

Waking up the next morning, my head spun slightly and my throat felt parched. It seemed like I caught a chill last night. While I considered getting some medicine, the hospital called.

Dad had been moved to the city hospital. Although he was out of immediate danger, he fell into a coma and didn't regain consciousness. Over the last four years, I had watched him grow weaker every day, feeling helpless.

But now, they said dad's eyes were open again. It felt surreal. It took several prompts from the doctor before I could pull myself together and rush to the hospital.

The silence in the VIP ward was striking. I rushed to my dad's hospital room, but it turned out someone had already gotten there first.

From behind the slightly open door, I could hear Janice's voice.

"Dad, it's so good to know you're awake. Mom and I are relieved. Mom's just embarrassed to face you. That's why she sent me."

Dad had only recently come around, and talking was still tough for him. His voice was faint. That was why I struggled to make out his words.

At first, I thought Janice was talking about Mom's old affair, the one that caused their split.

But then Janice threw me for a loop.

"She's not right, dad. But she was at her wits' end when she did that crazy thing. It's been four years. You're okay now, right? This money is from mom. Think of it as a peace offering. Go on. Take it and enjoy some peace and quiet in the country."

Four years had passed?

Had Maren done something to my dad again without my knowledge four years ago?

I instinctively moved closer and saw my dad trying hard to sit up, his body frail. His temples throbbed as he raised his voice. "I don't want any of your mother's tainted money! She deserves to be behind bars! She didn't finish me with that hit. It's time she pays for it."

I always thought it was odd. Dad was a simple, honest man with nothing of value, so why would he be a target?

Now, with dad's revelation, it looked like Maren was behind the attack, and it had nothing to do with a robbery. It seemed Maren faked a robbery to throw the police off her trail.

It explained why she wouldn't spare any cash for dad's medical bills.

She wanted him gone to hide her crime!

With this realization, rage boiled over in me, and I slammed the hospital room door open.

The door flew open, and Janice jumped in shock.

Upon seeing me, she regained her composure and even carried an air of superiority. "Your timing's perfect. Dad's not thinking straight anymore. You know what's best for yourself. Give him a piece of your mind. I've got to go. There's something else I need to take care of."

I had seen Janice act cold and selfish before, but this was a whole new level of nerve.

I scoffed and pressed the money she left on the table back into her hand. "Keep your money. Don't assume the Spencer family are the only rich ones around, and that everyone must worship you."

Janice's expression soured, she pushed the money back at me while rambling about sisterly affection and how there had been reasons for not helping me before. I didn't even give her the satisfaction of listening.

We were at an impasse for some time, but I stood my ground. Finally, she snapped. She threw the money on the floor and lashed out, "Sarah Wheeler, cut the act. You're turning down my money because you've got someone else paying your bills, huh? Have you grown fond of playing the other woman all these years? After all, it's easy money when you're on your back..."

Smack! I hit her face to shut her up before she could spit out another nasty word.

In front of my dad, who had just opened his eyes, she dared to say those things. She had it coming with this slap!

Janice froze for a second, stunned by the hit. Then she reached for my hair.

I dodged to avoid her grasp and went straight for the call button by the bed.

Janice came at me, but I thought of my dad and stood my ground, ready to face her.

The nurse walked in to find both of us with bruises. I ignored Janice as she hurled insults like "bitch" and "shameless."

Once security escorted her out, I slipped into the bathroom to fix my hair and straighten my clothes.

Cleaned up, I sat down next to dad and began peeling an apple for him.

My heart was racing the whole time.

I wasn't sure if dad had caught what Janice had just blurted out.

I guessed he overheard it. Otherwise, why would he keep quiet instead of stopping our quarrel? Maybe he kept his questions to himself to avoid making me feel awkward.

Lost in these thoughts, I accidentally snapped the apple peel.

Still, dad remained silent. He simply stroked my hair and drifted off to sleep.

Later on, dad decided not to file a lawsuit. It wasn't out of residual affection, but because Janice had called, threatening to reveal my secret relationship with my sugar daddy if he pursued legal action against Maren. Janice warned she'd take the scandal to our school, which would humiliate me.

At that time, I was a senior at the university, juggling an internship. Though I wasn't attending classes, my diploma was still in the school's hands. A scandal erupting could jeopardize my graduation.

Dad wept uncontrollably in his hospital bed, clutching my hand and pleading repeatedly, "We won't sue them. Let's just leave it be."

After that, he seemed worried I'd feel aggrieved, so he never spoke of his injuries. He wanted me to move on as if it were merely an accident.

Deep down, it was tough to watch him sacrifice his pride for me.

What did it matter if I was called a mistress?

I wasn't scared of what people might say.

Ever since I agreed to be a mistress, I braced myself for the rumors.

I even tried to spin it positively. After all, my benefactor wasn't just any rotten old man. It was Robert.

Had it not been for my confidentiality agreement with Robert, I'd have loved to face Janice and reveal who my sugar daddy really was. He was the very man she longed for. I wondered how she would react then!

But these were mere daydreams for my own entertainment.

Ever since our unhappy parting, Robert hadn't reached out.

I wasn't sure if it was because I posed a question that upset him or if his engagement had him too tied up to bother with me.

I guessed it was probably the latter.

In the grand scheme of things, what was I to him? Was I significant enough to make him mad and ignore me?

I kept telling myself this, trying to fight off the urge to call him.

Rather than getting lost in romance, I decided to pour myself into my work and save up for my dad's future.

But despite my attempts to calm the bitterness inside, it only stayed quiet for a month until a single phone call stirred it all up again.