A week had passed since Richmond brought Kayla to his house. He had arranged for her to stay in a room right opposite his own, giving her the task of organizing it and purchasing her daily needs through the house servants.
For Kayla, the days felt like a prison sentence. Stuck inside the house without a chance to step out or someone to talk to, she felt suffocated. Richmond seemed indifferent to her feelings, his attention fixed elsewhere.
This particular morning, Kayla found herself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She assumed Richmond would have left for work by now, but, as luck would have it, he had no plans to leave the house that day. The unexpectedness of his presence added another layer of tension to her already strained existence under his roof
Richmond descended the staircase, drawn to the kitchen by the need for water. As he observed Kayla gracefully preparing dishes without a single spill, he couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty. Thoughts lingered in his mind, unspoken yet present.
Kayla, sensing his presence, turned to find Richmond gazing at her with a furrowed brow. Without uttering a word, he moved to the refrigerator, fetched a bottle of water, and departed without acknowledging her.
From the dining table, Kayla called out to him, "Richmond." Receiving no response, she tried again. Walking to the living room where he was engrossed in a book, she tapped his shoulder. Her attempt at getting his attention turned regrettable as he pushed her away, causing hot coffee to spill onto her dress, burning her thigh. Bearing the pain silently, she understood it was a consequence of her own actions.
"I don't want you to ever touch me!" Richmond shouted angrily. Accusing her of potentially poisoning his coffee, he stormed off to his room, indifferent to Kayla's condition. Tears welled up in her eyes as she silently endured the searing pain on her thigh.
In the solace of the shower, Richmond brooded over the audacity of Kayla's touch. The anger in his mutterings echoed through the bathroom. For him, only Anna deserved such intimacy, but she was gone. "I will avenge your death," he vowed coldly before preparing himself for the day.
As he glanced at Anna's wedding gown in the walk-in closet, memories flooded back. The dress, a symbol of their union, held a bitter reminder of her departure from their life. "I will avenge your death," he repeated, unaware of the unseen layers of his wife's past he had yet to uncover.