The Obsession of ARES

The morning sun had barely risen, yet Amara Hayes dragged her bruised body through the iron gates of the Hayes mansion. Her steps were unsteady, her hair disheveled, clothes torn in places, and her swollen eyes glistened with unshed tears. To anyone watching, she looked like a woman who had just crawled out of hell.

The gate creaked shut behind her, the sound echoing like a cruel reminder of where she truly belonged-not in safety, not in comfort, but in a house that treated her worse than an outsider.

Her fingers trembled as she gripped the stair railing, desperate to escape into the solitude of her small room before anyone saw her. But fate was never that merciful to her.

"Where do you think you're sneaking off to?"

The voice, sharp and laced with venom, made her freeze. Before she could turn, a manicured hand yanked her back by the arm.

Smack!

The slap rang loudly across the marble hallway.

Amara's head whipped to the side, the sting searing her cheek. She blinked at her cousin, Melissa, standing before her with smug satisfaction. Melissa was the kind of woman who was almost pretty-her face plain without the thick layers of foundation and lipstick she relied on. But dressed in designer silk, every inch of her screamed vanity and spite.

"You slut," Melissa spat, her eyes glinting with hatred. "Do you enjoy throwing yourself at other people's men? My fiancé, of all people?"

The servants scattered around the hall gasped, their eyes darting to Amara with poorly masked disgust. Whispers rose like fireflies in the air-shameless, filthy, a disgrace.

Amara's lips parted in disbelief. "What are you-"

Another sharp sting cut her short.

Smack!

This time from the other side. Her aunt, Clarissa Hayes, had arrived without warning, her jeweled fingers raised in contempt. Clarissa was a tall, elegant woman with cold, calculating eyes. Her beauty had long since hardened into cruelty.

"How dare you show your face here, you wretched girl?" Clarissa's voice thundered. "You dare seduce your cousin's fiancé and then sneak back like a thief in the morning? Have you no shame?"

Amara staggered back, her chest heaving. Her eyes burned red, but not with tears-this time, it was fury.

"Seduce?" She scoffed, her laugh bitter, hollow. "Why don't you ask your precious daughter what really happened last night?"

Melissa's face darkened, but Amara's words spilled like poison.

"I was doing my job at the bar when she waltzed in with her oh-so-perfect fiancé. She sat there, mocking me, flaunting him like some prize. I ignored her, went to the bathroom, and when I came out-" Amara's voice cracked, her fists clenching. "-your dear future son-in-law cornered me. He tried to force himself on me."

The room grew tense. A servant gasped.

"You lie!" Melissa shrieked, her eyes wild. "You filthy liar! If that were true, why are you still standing here?"

Amara's lips trembled as she remembered-the weight of rough hands, the foul stench of alcohol, her frantic struggle, and then the shadows of strange men who dragged her out back. The way fists rained down on her until her body nearly gave way. Only the sound of a car screeching nearby had scared them off, giving her the chance to crawl away.

Her voice lowered, trembling with suppressed rage. "You sent those boys after me, Melissa. Didn't you? You wanted to teach me a lesson for something I never did."

Melissa's painted lips curved into a cold smile, her silence louder than words.

Clarissa's eyes narrowed, flicking between her daughter and Amara. But instead of doubt, her glare hardened.

"Enough!" she barked. "Do you think anyone will believe your pathetic excuses? Who would trust the word of a fatherless tramp over my daughter's?"

Another round of snickers and sneers from the servants filled the air. Amara stood there, trembling from head to toe, her cheek still burning from their slaps.

Her world had taken everything from her-her parents, her dignity, her peace. And now, even her innocence was being torn to shreds by the people meant to call her family.

But as her gaze locked on Melissa's triumphant smirk, something inside her shifted.

For the first time, Amara didn't just feel broken. She felt the first spark of hatred.

Amara clenched her jaw, refusing to give Melissa the satisfaction of seeing her break. She turned to leave, but Melissa yanked her back again, her nails poised like claws ready to scratch.

"Where do you think you're going?" Melissa spat, her voice dripping with hatred. She raised her hand, aiming straight for Amara's face-the face that had always driven her insane with jealousy.

But this time, Amara moved faster. She caught Melissa's wrist mid-air, her bruised fingers gripping with surprising strength.

"Touch me one more time," Amara said coldly, her voice stripped of the timidness they were used to, "and I'll make sure you regret it."

The chill in her tone, the deadly calm in her stare, made Melissa's heart skip. This wasn't the weak, submissive cousin she used to torment. For a brief second, Melissa saw something terrifying in Amara's eyes-an unbroken will.

Shaken, Melissa yanked her hand free. 'Why didn't those useless boys finish the job? she fumed inwardly. They were supposed to destroy her-taint her reputation forever. She had arranged everything: the assault, the photos, the humiliation. And yet Amara had returned, bruised but still untouchably beautiful. Even now, with torn clothes and a battered face, she still looked like a fallen angel.' The thought made Melissa's blood boil.

Unable to control her rage, Melissa grabbed a vase from the nearby stand and hurled it to the ground. The sharp crash echoed through the hall, shards scattering across the marble floor. Servants flinched but didn't dare move.

Amara, unfazed, dragged her aching body up the grand staircase. Each step was heavier than the last, but she forced herself forward. Her room-if it could be called that-was nothing more than a storage space shoved into the farthest corner of the mansion. Still, it was the only place she could wash away the filth clinging to her skin and the bruises screaming across her body.

Behind her, Clarissa placed a calming hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Melissa, enough," she whispered.

Melissa's chest heaved with fury. "Mom, if we don't deal with her, I'll lose everything. Do you have any idea how hard I've worked to get close to the Ashford family? They're nouveau riche, yes, but their influence and connections are unmatched. I stole Kael from her, and yet she still ruins everything! If she dares to show her face again, all my plans will go up in flames!"

Clarissa's sharp eyes narrowed. Unlike her daughter, her anger was cold and calculated. She tucked a strand of perfectly coiffed hair behind her ear, her lips curling into a dangerous smile.

"Patience, my dear. You've already won Kael. But to secure the Ashfords, we need Amara gone... permanently."

Melissa's eyes lit up with desperate hope. "You mean it? You have a plan?"

Clarissa gave a soft, sinister laugh, leaning closer to whisper. "Trust me, sweetheart. Soon, she won't be able to step foot in this house again. All you need to do is wait."

Melissa's fury simmered into anticipation. Her mother's words was enough to assure her-Amara's days under this roof were numbered.

Upstairs, in the suffocating darkness of her tiny room, Amara let the cold water run over her wounds, tears mixing with the droplets. She had no idea her aunt and cousin were already plotting the next cruel move that could shatter what was left of her fragile world.

The icy shower barely numbed the pain that laced Amara's bruised body. By the time she dried off, every muscle ached as though her bones had been crushed. She dragged herself to her narrow little bed, the sheets threadbare and cold against her skin.

Curling into herself, Amara whispered into the silence, her voice trembling.

"Mom... Dad... why did you leave me? Why am I still here when you're not?"

Tears welled up until her lashes were wet, but exhaustion stole her voice. Her body gave in, collapsing into sleep-yet rest didn't come. Instead, memories she tried so hard to bury clawed their way back, pulling her into the nightmare of the night that ruined her life.

---

Once, she had been a princess of Liora-not in title, but in everything that mattered. Her parents, Alexander and Seraphina Callen, weren't royalty, but they were feared, respected, and loved all the same. Alexander Hayes was a brilliant businessman whose word could shift entire markets, and Seraphina was known as the pearl of Liora, her kindness as radiant as her beauty. Together, they were untouchable-or so the world thought.

That night, they had attended a gala, laughter filling the car as they drove home. Amara, barely five, sat at the backseat in her shimmering little dress, clutching the stuffed bunny her father had won for her at the event.

But in an instant, everything shattered.

A blinding light. Screeching tires. The deafening crash of metal folding in on itself.

The truck slammed into their car with brutal force, crushing it into a twisted cage of glass and steel. Amara's small head smacked against the window, leaving her dazed and bleeding. She blinked through the blur, her parents' frantic voices the only anchor to reality.

"Seraphina, stay with me-don't move!" Alexander's voice was hoarse, panicked.

"Amara, baby, are you okay?!" her mother sobbed, trying to reach for her through the mangled space.

Amara whimpered, "Mama... Papa... it hurts."

Before Seraphina could soothe her, Alexander's face hardened. His sharp gaze darted toward the approaching figures-dark silhouettes against the headlights. Men. Dozens of them.

"Stay quiet," he ordered in a low, urgent tone. "No matter what happens, you two must not come out. Do you hear me?"

Seraphina's hand clutched her daughter's, trembling, but she nodded.

Alexander forced his broken body out of the car, blood dripping from his temple. He staggered forward, his hands raised in a plea. "Please, don't-"

The gunshot rang out, merciless and final.

"PAPA!" Amara screamed, but her mother's hand clamped over her mouth.

Seraphina's sob tore from her chest before she could stop it. The men's heads snapped toward the sound.

One of them sneered, raising his weapon.

"NO!" Seraphina shielded her daughter, but the bullet tore through her skull before Amara's terrified eyes.

Blood. Her mother's warm blood sprayed across her face, dripping down her small arms. Amara froze, paralyzed with horror. The men peered into the wreckage, but in the shadows, the little girl remained unseen-too small, too hidden. Satisfied, they left without another glance.

The world went silent.

"Mommy... Daddy..." Amara sobbed, her tiny voice cracking as she shook their lifeless bodies. Her bunny doll slipped from her grasp, soaking in crimson. She cried until her throat was raw, until her tears ran dry.

And at some point, grief swallowed her whole, dragging her into unconsciousness.

---

When she opened her eyes again, it was morning. The hospital's sterile ceiling loomed above her. Her uncle, Gregory Hayes, sat by her side, his expression stiff with something she couldn't name. Relief, maybe. Or was it calculation?

"Your parents are gone," he told her flatly when she asked, his hand heavy on her small shoulder. "There was... an accident."

"Accident?" Amara repeated, her little hands trembling. But she remembered. She saw. Her father begging. The men in black. The blood.

Yet when the news spread across Liora, the truth had been buried. The world mourned Alexander and Seraphina Callen as victims of a tragic car crash. No one spoke of gunshots. No one mentioned murder.

From then on, the girl who was once treated like a princess-the beloved daughter of Liora's most respected couple-was reduced to nothing inside her own home.

Gregory took over her father's company, bringing with him his wife Clarissa and their three children: Melissa; the beautiful and cruel eldest, Cassandra; quiet but sharp-eyed, and Liam; the smug younger son who followed their mother's lead.

At first, they smiled at Amara, played nice, even called her "sister." But masks always crack. And when they finally did, Amara learned the bitter truth-her father's house no longer belonged to her.

---

Amara shot awake, gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat. Her trembling hands clutched her chest as if to keep her heart from breaking free. The echo of her mother's scream and her father's pleading still rang in her ears.

She buried her face in her pillow, tears spilling once more. She had been only five when the world ripped everything from her. And now, years later, she was still paying the price.

But deep inside, beneath all the pain, one thought burned like fire.

It wasn't an accident. They were killed.

And one day, she would find out why.

A piercing pain throbbed behind her temples. She dragged her weary body off the bed and stumbled toward the little wooden cupboard at the corner of her cramped room. Her fingers fumbled as she opened the drawer, taking out a half-empty blister pack.

She popped two pills into her mouth and swallowed them dry, her brows furrowed deeply. These headaches had plagued her ever since the accident. Nightmares of that night never left her alone, haunting her sleep, hunting her even in the day.

Before the medicine could settle in, a sharp knock rattled her door.

"Miss Amara," a servant's shrill voice called, dripping with disdain. When she opened the door, the young maid stood there with a curled lip, eyes filled with contempt. "The master demands your presence."

Amara ignored the servant's expression, replying curtly, "I'll be down." Then she shut the door in the girl's face, not even sparing her another glance.

---

The grand living room of the Hayes estate was bathed in golden sunlight, yet to Amara it always felt suffocating. Her uncle, Gregory, sat at the head of the table, his sharp features twisted into a frown as soon as his eyes landed on her.

That look of disdain was one she knew well-it had become his permanent expression whenever he regarded her.

"You took your time," he barked coldly. "I summoned you because there's an announcement. Your sister's engagement ceremony with Kael Ashford will be held here."

Amara froze for only a heartbeat before her lips curled bitterly. Her voice was cold when she spoke.

"She's not my sister."

SLAM!

The table shook violently as Gregory's palm came crashing down. His eyes flared with fury, his veins bulging on his neck.

"Ungrateful brat!" he roared. "How dare you speak that way? You're nothing but an unfilial child! Had it not been for me, you'd be rotting on the streets!"

Beside him, Clarissa touched his arm lightly, her painted lips pulling into a fake, gentle smile. "Calm down, dear... She doesn't know what she's saying."

The words only infuriated Gregory more. He pointed at Amara, his chest heaving.

"The Ashford family only made a statement when you were young, nothing more. They never meant for you to marry Kael. Melissa is far more worthy of him than you could ever be!"

Amara scoffed bitterly, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. "Is that why you called me here? To tell me my cousin is stealing the fiancé who was once promised to me? A sister wouldn't do such a thing."

Her words sliced through the air, sharp and mocking.

Gregory's face turned crimson. "Stealing? Don't twist things! I heard from Melissa herself-you tried to seduce her fiancé. Do you deny it?"

Her blood ran cold. How far would they go to drag her down?

Before she could speak, Gregory's voice thundered again. "From today until the engagement ceremony, you will remain locked in your room. Consider it punishment for your shameless actions."

Her face drained of color. Lock her up? Now? When she had been working herself half to death just to save enough for her tuition? They were really trying to break her. To destroy the last shred of hope she had.

Her jaw tightened as her heart filled with hate. They won't stop until I'm left with nothing.

Gregory caught the defiance burning in her eyes. The silent challenge made something snap inside him.

"You dare look at me like that?" he growled. He snatched a whip from the hand of a nearby servant and without another word, lashed it across her back.

Crack!

The sound echoed through the room. Amara staggered but clenched her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

Again. And again.

Her delicate skin split under the blows, blood soaking through her thin clothes. Pain seared through every nerve, but her silence was unyielding. Not a single cry escaped her lips.

Gregory's arm finally trembled with exhaustion. He threw the whip aside, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow. He glared at her bleeding figure-weak, trembling, yet still standing.

"Lock her up," he spat through gritted teeth.

The servants moved quickly, grabbing her by the arms. As they dragged her battered body toward the stairs, Clarissa's lips curved into a smug smile, her eyes glittering with satisfaction.

Amara's body hit the cold floor with a dull thud as the servants shoved her inside and slammed the door. The sound of the lock clicking echoed in the silence, leaving her shivering in the pitch-dark room, the sting of betrayal weighing heavier than the bruises on her skin.

Downstairs, the atmosphere shifted. Clarissa's voice, soft yet poisonous, laced through the room as she tried to soothe her husband's fury.

"You did well, Gregory. That girl needed to be reminded of her place," she cooed, her hand gently caressing his arm like oil poured over fire.

The storm in Gregory's eyes began to settle-just in time for Melissa to descend the staircase with her sister Cassandra at her side. Melissa's lips curved into a victorious smile, her arm linked with Cassandra's as if they were the perfect picture of sisterly affection.

"Mom, Dad," Melissa called sweetly, "Cassandra's going to help me pick out my engagement dress. You know she studied fashion design at one of the best schools. Her eye for style is unmatched."

The rage that had gripped Gregory moments earlier melted at the sound of his daughter's voice. His expression softened into a smug grin, pride swelling in his chest. He straightened in his chair like a king surveying his legacy.

"Liam!" he barked, calling for his younger son. "Take your sisters to the boutique. Make sure they get exactly what they want."

"Yes, Father," Liam replied, already reaching for the car keys.

As the trio left, the Hayes mansion seemed lighter, as though Amara's disgrace had been replaced with the glittering anticipation of Melissa's upcoming union.

Clarissa leaned closer, her smile sharp and satisfied as her hand rubbed soothing circles on Gregory's back.

"See? Our children are thriving. Melissa's engagement will elevate the Hayes name even higher. All that remains..." Her eyes gleamed. "Is plucking that thorn from our side."

Gregory's smugness faltered, his brows knitting into a deep frown. The weight of Amara's existence pressed on him like a migraine that refused to fade.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" he muttered darkly. "If we move too soon, suspicion will fall on us. People already whisper."

Clarissa's lips curved, a slow, poisonous smile spreading across her face as she leaned in and whispered in his ear.

Whatever she said made his eyes glint with dangerous satisfaction. By the time she pulled away, the shrewd patriarch's frown had vanished, replaced with a cruel smirk.

-

Amara hadn't seen the light of day since the moment the servants dragged her into the room. Days blurred into nights, hunger gnawed at her stomach, and the damp chill clung to her bones. When the door finally creaked open, it wasn't freedom that greeted her-just cruelty.

A servant stepped in, his expression curled into disdain as he tossed a crumpled dress onto the bed like garbage.

"The master says you should dress properly and behave yourself," he sneered, his tone heavy with threat. "You wouldn't want to embarrass yourself further... or bring more trouble onto that pitiful head of yours."

His laughter-low and mocking-lingered in the air even after he slammed the door shut.

Amara stared blankly at the old dress lying in front of her. Her body trembled, not just from weakness but from the weight of humiliation. It was Melissa's cast-off-an outfit meant for the trash. Her lips curled in disgust as she flung it into the corner.

She pressed a hand against her frail frame, her fingers brushing the outline of her ribs. Days of rejecting their food had taken a toll, but she would rather starve than swallow their poison. With trembling steps, she dragged herself to the bathroom.

The icy water stung her skin, but it was cleansing. For a brief moment, she shed the filth of their cruelty. When she stepped out, she reached under her bed and pulled out a carefully folded dress-from years ago.

Her eyes softened as memories washed over her. She had saved every coin during high school to buy it, imagining the day she'd wear it on her first date with Kael. She remembered dressing up so hopefully that night, only to wait in vain. Later, she'd found out he'd been with Melissa.

Her lips twisted bitterly at the memory, but she shook it off. Today, she wasn't wearing it for Kael. She was wearing it for herself.

The dress slipped onto her body like it had been waiting for this moment. She combed her hair with slow, deliberate strokes, smoothing it down until it framed her delicate face. With pale fingers, she dabbed a thin layer of lip oil across her cracked lips.

And then she looked in the mirror.

Despite the shadows under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks, the reflection staring back was breathtaking. Fragile yet radiant, her beauty carried a kind of resilience that no cruelty could erase.

Even starved, even broken-Amara looked like an angel cast down into the dirt, still shining.