Beneath The Ashes
The scent of lemon polish and stale fear clung to the air in the mansion, a familiar perfume to Ivy Bright. Her hands, raw and red from the industrial-strength cleaner, moved with practiced efficiency over the cold marble floor. A stubborn stain, a ghost of Marcus’s latest indiscretion, clung to the surface, defying her efforts.
She sat back on her heels, blowing a stray strand of hair from her eyes, and caught her reflection in the polished surface. Tired eyes, flushed cheeks, and a smile that didn’t quite reach them. She widened it, a practiced mask. Perfect.
Six years. Six years since her mother married Marcus Vitalo, since this sprawling house became her gilded cage. Marcus, all charm and expensive suits, had promised a better life. Ivy knew better now. The money appeared from unseen sources, and men in dark suits came and went without a smile. Marcus drank, and when he drank, his words were sharp, cutting without leaving a mark.
Her mother, once softer, had become a ghost in her own home, barely acknowledging Ivy’s presence. Ivy didn’t blame her; after her father died, something had broken inside her mother, and Marcus had filled the void with a cold indifference.
The clock chimed noon, a stark reminder. He would be awake soon. Every surface had to gleam, every dish had to be in its place. She shook away the trembling in her hands, forcing them steady as she moved to the kitchen.
Clean. Cook. Smile. That was her life. If she just kept smiling, it would be okay. It had to be.
Right?
