CHAPTER THREE: TAMARA
I was engrossed in one of my favorite books in my room/attic to pass time until dinner was ready.
After my mother died, my father moved me to the attic to make way for his favorite children, Katherine and Alex, and I was tossed aside like trash.
Even when my mother was alive, my loving father was not much better; by the time my mother saw who he truly was, it was too late; she was already married to him, and the man she fell in love with was not the same man she had spent the previous twelve years with.
My father found fault in everything my mother did, blaming her for any misfortune that befell him. He would often turn physical when he was drunk, and I, too, became a target of his rage.
By the time I turned nine, my mother was a mere shadow of her former self. When I reached ten, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, which had already reached its final stage. The chemotherapy offered little respite.
On a fateful night when I turned twelve, my mother passed away, and it felt as though all the light in my life departed with her.
My father didn't even mourn her death because a year later, he married Lillian, my stepmother, and adopted her children, Alex and Katherine. I couldn't help but wonder if he had been cheating on my mother even before her demise, as he was often absent from home during her illness.
Being unrelated to Lillian and the offspring of another woman, my stay in that house became unbearable. Any mistake I made would lead to beatings and insults. Despite the abuse, I still loved them. It seemed absurd, and at times I questioned my own sanity but I could never bring myself to fully hate them
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. So I placed my book aside and walked to the door to see who it was. Opening it, I found Delia, the housekeeper and my only confidant in this hellish existence.
"Hi, Delia. Good evening. How is your evening going?" I greeted her politely, but her expression troubled me.
"Good evening, dear child. My evening is going well. How are you doing?" Delia asked, but the odd look on her face remained.
"Delia, what's wrong? You don't seem happy," I inquired, confusion evident in my tone. Delia had always worn a smile, even if it was forced too.
"Nothing is wrong, dear. Your father informed me that he's expecting a visitor, and he wants you to be dressed and ready by 8:00 PM," Delia replied, walking towards my wardrobe to find something suitable for me to wear.
"Do you know who this visitor might be, Delia?" I asked softly, sensing that whoever it was, they weren't going to be pleasant.
"I overheard your father and Lillian arguing, and I caught his name. It's Damien Kingston, one of your father's business partners," Delia revealed, bringing out the black dress I wore for my college graduation a year ago.
"I've heard of him, but you know I don't pay much attention to the media," I replied, glancing at the clock on my bed. It read 7:30, so I took the dress from Delia and headed into the bathroom to change.
After struggling for a few minutes, I managed to put on the dress—it still fit. Stepping out of the bathroom, I found Delia sitting on the edge of my bed, flipping through the book I had left behind.
"So, what do you think?" I asked softly, a small smile forming on Delia's face.
"Beautiful, just like your mother," she said, cupping my face and placing a kiss on my forehead.
Delia worked on my hair and had to leave my room at 7:45 p.m. because she had to supervise dinner. So I was left to my own devices to get ready, putting on a little lipstick and choosing my black ballet flats. I'd always been awkward in heels, so I wasn't going to risk it tonight for anyone, no matter how wealthy.
Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I left my room, making sure to lock the door behind me. The last time I forgot to lock it, Alex and his friends wreaked havoc, and my father still found a way to blame me for it.
Arriving in the dining room, I noticed Alex and my father already seated.
"Good evening, Father. Alex," I greeted softly, waiting for permission to join them.
"It's 8:02. What time did I tell you to be here, Tamara?" Thomas inquired.
"8:00, Father."
"Then why are you two minutes late?"
"I apologize, Father. It won't happen again.
"You're always sorry. Why can't you be more like your siblings?" Thomas scoffed.
"Father, you shouldn't blame her. Her mother wasn't as smart from what you told me," Alex chimed in, igniting a fiery anger within me. However, I had to restrain myself—my nails dug into the skin of my palms as I fought to control my emotions.
"As if I could forget. Just take your seat. Our guest will be here soon," Thomas instructed, and I reluctantly took my usual place at the far end of the table.
A few minutes later, Lillian and Katherine descended the staircase, dressed in the skimpiest dresses I had ever seen. Though it didn't surprise me—they often dressed provocatively.
Lillian kissed my father's cheek, sending a glare in my direction. "Tamara, you still have no taste. We have an important guest coming, and you're dressed like a common peasant," Lillian scoffed, taking her seat beside Thomas. Katherine laughed at her mother's statement as if it were a joke and not an insult.
"I apologize, Lillian. This is the only decent outfit I have in my wardrobe," I said.
"What else can I expect from someone with no fashion sense? Look at your sister, for instance—she looks gorgeous in her gown," Lillian remarked with pride. If only they would give me an allowance, maybe I could afford better clothes, my subconscious muttered in annoyance.
Delia entered the dining room to set the table, and a few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Delia was occupied, so I took it upon myself to answer the door.
After all, no one else would. "Father, I'll go and open the door. Someone is here, and all the maids are busy," I informed my father, who dismissed me with a careless wave of his hand.
As I opened the door, I found a man standing on the other side, a frown etched across his face. He seemed reluctant to be there, but what captivated me were his stormy gray eyes, brimming with dominance and authority. He had a powerful presence, more intimidating than any man I had encountered before. His hair was tied back into a ponytail and it looked quite beautiful.
He cleared his throat, interrupting my train of thought, and a blush crept across my cheeks at being caught staring.
"You know, staring is considered rude, right?" the stranger said, annoyance lacing his voice. "I apologize. That was rude of me," I stammered, suddenly realizing that the man before me was Damien Kingston, our guest.
"Can you let me in, or is your brain really that slow that I have to spell it out for you? It's freezing out here," Damien remarked,
“You don’t have to insult me, I already apologized,” I said, moving out of the way for him to come in.
“Right, where is Mr Sander, from the way you are dressed, I guess you must be the maid so I will ignore you rudeness” Damien said fuelling the already present anger in my blood.
“listen here you arrogant ass-” but before I could finish my sentence my father walked in, stopping me in my track as the blood drained from my face,
“Mr Kingston, welcome we weren’t expecting you this early, excuse my youngest’s behavior, she tends to act rebellious sometimes” Thomas said, sending a glare in my direction.
“So she is your daughter, from the way she is dressed, she doesn’t look like much” Damien said adding salt to my bruised ego,
“She acts like her mother, I have done everything to make her change but it’s no use” Thomas said with a smile but it wasn’t genuine.
“I'm not here to get to know her sad story, remember our deal or do you want me to make due on my threat” Damien said with an annoyed expression.
“yes I remember, how can I forget”.