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“Because your mom is sick, Becca. She gets the best care here,” he replies, strutting a few steps ahead of me. I can't see anything past his massive backside and those pants that cling to his rounded buttocks.
This reminds me of the viral meme with Chris Evans and his Captain America booty, and I can't help but smile.
“Mr. Morgenstern,” the receptionist, all dolled up, greets him with a big smile, bringing back memories of those girls who used to swarm around him in high school.
The same expression etched on their faces, fascinated by a handsome face, golden hair, and a muscular body. In one word, foolish.
“We came to see Maria Santos.”
What? Now everything makes sense. He changed my mother's identity so he could admit her here without being discovered, stating her as deceased in official records. A clever move. Manasseh has learned to excel in such dirty deeds over the years.
“And who is she?” the receptionist scans me from head to toe, in a mocking tone.
“She is a distant niece of hers.”
“Should I add her to the list of favorite visitors?”
“No...” Manasseh looks at me and I flare up.
“Yes!” I resist.
“I said no...” he shuts down the conversation, leaving room for a “yet,” in case he changes his mind, or rather, in case I give in and accept to be at his mercy.
“This way, please,” the woman leads us down the hallway, entering an equally luxurious elevator. The girl who had positioned herself next to him pushes out her chest and adjusts her hair, hoping to catch his attention with her impeccable appearance, but I can feel Manasseh's complete disinterest as he breathes down my neck the whole time, his gaze burning into my back with each floor we ascend.
I swallow and endure his stare a little longer, praying to get there faster. I can't make a wrong move, I can't afford it now, as the hypothesis about the mother becomes more and more plausible.
When I enter the spacious living room bathed in natural light, I see her reading a book.
“Mom?!” I choke back tears and my voice breaks.
“Becca,” mommy's arms open and I cuddle against her chest, sobbing.
Masse glances at me before he leaves the salon, and I see a glimmer of empathy in his eyes, but nothing impresses me now. Mom is truly alive and I'm in shock.
“Mom, how are you feeling?” I touch her hair wrap and still can’t fathom that this is real.
“I’m good. I am treated well here. How are you?” She grabs a strand of my hair and kisses it, like she always did, but something isn’t right.
“Mom, do you remember how you got here?”
“No, but your husband told me I fell in the bathroom and hit my head. That's how I lost my memory. But don't worry, Masse told me everything. He is so patient with me,” my mother smiles at me and I feel myself screaming on the inside.
This is getting worse and worse. How many years had she lost?
The woman in front of me is my mother, but she’s also not. She’s like an empty shell, devoid of memories. I had really lost my mother that day, and I hadn't realized it when I walked in here. It is only now that I realize what really happened that I see how Manasseh had manipulated everyone around him to his liking. He had played with my mother's life, destroyed mine, just to get what he wanted. To make me a slave, at any cost.
“My husband... you say,” I start laughing so hard that you can swear that I'm the crazy one in this story.
I shake my head and cover my eyes with my hands.
“He brought me grape juice, my favorite. He is very careful with me. Take care of him like he takes care of his mother-in-law, okay?”
Grape juice?! How does he know about it? How long has this mad as a hatter been following me?
“Yes, mom, I will take very good care of him. I promise,” I take her hand and kiss it.
“Are you okay, Rebecca?” she asks out of the blue.
