Chapter 3
I thought it meant they finally saw my worth. I thought they believed I deserved someone better. How naive I was.
The first few months of marriage were almost normal. Ryan and I actually talked sometimes—he'd share acting techniques, I'd listen to him complain about Hollywood's fakeness. I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd found something real.
Until Stella made that phone call. I was in the kitchen making dinner when I heard Ryan's voice rising in the living room:
"What? She did that on the streets? You should have told me sooner!"
Stella's sickeningly sweet voice carried through the phone: "Ryan, I didn't want to say anything, but I think you deserve to know the truth. Ruby during those street years... she did things to survive. Bar hostess work, even worse... Our family's been worried she might have diseases..."
That night, Ryan hit me for the first time. Each blow came with accusations: "You filthy thing, trying to act pure? Trying to play princess in a producer's family?"
After that, Stella's texts became a regular poison drip:
How's Ruby doing? Has she gotten over those old habits?
Heard she wants a divorce again? I guess old habits die hard...
Every message was gasoline on Ryan's fire.
My spirit trembles with rage. It was all Stella's manipulation. Even when I stopped competing for our parents' love, she couldn't let me have peace.
While Ryan worked on his grisly task, a tiny figure huddled in the prop box, hands pressed over her eyes, trembling with each sound. Lily had learned to shake uncontrollably whenever she heard the boxing sounds, biting her small hand to keep from crying out.
Ryan suddenly heard a faint noise and spun around. The prop box was shaking slightly. He strode over and yanked the lid open.
Lily was curled in the corner, her small body convulsing with terror. Ryan stared down at her with those cold, dead eyes:
"Lily. What did you see?"
The little girl couldn't speak, tears streaming silently down her face. Ryan's voice dropped to a frozen whisper:
"I said, what did you see?"
Facing her father's demonic stare, Lily shook her head desperately, managing only a barely audible whisper:
"Didn't... didn't see... nothing..."
Floating above, I felt a wave of relief wash through my spirit. Thank God. Lily didn't see anything. At least she won't have to carry this horror.
Ryan grunted with satisfaction, grabbing some bread from the snack cabinet and tossing it into the box:
"Stay in there. Come out and I'll stuff you in a sandbag too. Got it?"
Lily nodded frantically, shrinking deeper into the corner. Ryan slammed the lid shut and returned to his work, hanging the sandbag in its original position before posting that social media update about his "new equipment."
After completing his cover-up, Ryan changed clothes and headed out to celebrate with drinks. He took one last satisfied look at the hanging sandbag before leaving.
Once his car pulled away, the Beverly Hills mansion returned to its deathly silence. Only the California ocean breeze stirred the windows, creating the faintest whisper of sound.
Slowly, carefully, Lily climbed out of the prop box. Her little legs were numb from being cramped so long, but she didn't care about the discomfort.
She walked toward the sandbag on unsteady feet, tilting her head back to look up at it. Too high for her to reach, but somehow she knew.
Lily glanced around one more time, making absolutely sure Daddy was really gone. Then, in the smallest, most heartbroken voice imaginable, she called out:
"Mommy..."
No. She saw everything.