Chapter 1 - THE PERFECT WHITE KITCHEN
The marble island gleamed.
Not a single crumb lingered on the pristine white Quartz.
A tray of freshly baked lemon tarts sat directly in the center.
Beside it, three-year-old Maya stood on a step stool.
Her small fingers, sticky with warm sugar, twitched nervously against the seam of her pink ribbed shirt.
She didn't reach for the pastry.
She knew better.
Behind her, heels clicked.
A sharp, rhythmic cadence against the Italian porcelain tiles.
Vanessa adjusted the cuffs of her beige silk blouse.
Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in calibrated waves.
She didn't speak.
She simply reached out, her long acrylic nail catching the collar of Maya’s shirt, pulling the fabric taut.
Maya flinched.
Her shoulders hit her ears.
"You dropped sugar on my floor," Vanessa murmured.
Her voice wasn't loud.
It was thin, like wire being drawn through a narrow gap.
Maya’s bottom lip began to tremble.
She pressed her palm over her mouth, trying to trap the sound inside her chest.
"Look at me," Vanessa instructed.
The little girl didn't look up.
Instead, her small hand reached down into her pocket.
She squeezed a plastic bunny.
Its left ear was broken off.
The plastic jagged edge bit into her palm.
She used the pain to keep from crying.
"Look at me, Maya."
A sharp tug followed.
May you like
Vanessa’s hand slid from the collar upward, her fingers twisting violently into Maya’s fine blonde hair.
A sharp gasp ripped from the child’s throat.
