Samantha
As the air grew heavy with anticipation, Wilson's gaze intensified, searching for answers in Lady Samantha's eyes.
Her face, a canvas of turbulent emotions, seemed to hold a thousand unspoken secrets, straining to break free from her pursed lips like a pent-up tempest.
Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet his, and in a voice choked with sobs, whispered, "Wilson... I knew your mother."
The words, long poised on the edge of her tongue, brought a mix of relief and unease, like a storm finally breaking through the surface.
Wilson's anxiety splintered into a kaleidoscope of emotions, as a turbulent storm raged through his heart, threatening to upend his very existence.
His eyes widened, his mind racing with questions like a runaway carriage. "Wh... What do you mean?" he asked, his voice slowly becoming shrill, like a violin string stretched to its limits.
Lady Samantha hesitated, her lips trembling like a leaf in an autumn breeze. "I… I knew her before," she stammered, struggling to articulate the words, as if they were tangled in a web of memories, ensnared by the weight of nostalgia and forgotten moments.
Wilson's grip on the couch tightened as he slowly found the story taking a discomforting curve.
"Before what?" he pressed, his voice hoarse and urgent.
Taking a two-second pause in order to calm her chaotic emotions, she took a deep breath.
"I knew her before you were born… I knew her before…"
Suddenly, the tears that she struggled to hold back for so long came out pouring.
As the tears streamed down her face, Wilson's expression transformed from anxiety to incredulity.
His expression warped in unbelievable surprise, as the sudden revelation hit at him like a meteorite.
His eyes widened, his mouth agape, as though shock had sucked the air out of him.
At that moment, he didn't disprove the veracity of her claims, like he instinctively believed it.
With the sudden revelation, his thirst for knowledge burned fiercer. Eager to know the story that linked them both, he asked in a nervous, hugely expectant voice.
"Could you tell me about it?"
With her tears subsiding, she nodded slowly as she took a deep breath, "It's a long story, Wilson.
Like a scar locked in the recess of my mind, one graveyard I hoped not to ever visit again," her voice trembling.
"But… I guess, I have to share the memory which has always stung me for years. I owe it to you and your family… We owe it to you all."
Wilson's eyes remained trained on her pretty face, his gaze nervous, pressing and expectant as he waited for her to start talking.
Taking a deep breath once more, her slightly shaky voice began narrating the story.
"My full name is Samantha Taylor Vermont, the heiress to the biggest business group in Filho continent, Vitalis Conglomerate."
Taking a brief pause, Lady Samantha continued, "I was told my mother died during my conception, and I never got to see her, only the vivid portraits that adorn our estate's walls.
Our family has always been small, with no grandparents or relatives, just my uncle, my father's younger brother."
"Growing up, I was often lonely, with only my pet civet, Amaeree, by my side since I was a year old.
My father and uncle frequently traveled, focusing on expanding the business, leaving me with stoic guards and no friends."
"I was a sad child, but my dad would occasionally return with gifts and toys, trying to make up for his absence. However, those moments were fleeting," Lady Samantha's voice trailed off, lost in the memories of her childhood.
Wilson's eyes remained fixed on hers, his expression a mix of empathy and subtle urgency.
Despite sensing the depth of her loneliness and the emotions in her words, he was still anxious to understand how her story connected to his.
"As the years passed, I grew older, and our business group expanded into a global powerhouse, with numerous subsidiaries and branches across major cities worldwide."
Her voice gained strength, laced with a hint of melancholy.
"I had hoped that my father's success would translate to more time for me, but instead, it led to even longer periods of isolation.
He went from spending four months out of twelve at home to barely a month. A new schedule that saw him miss my birthday for three consecutive years." Her words trailed off, tinged with resentment.
"I began to feel deeply resentful towards my father for neglecting me, and it put a tremendous strain on our relationship.
What else could blossom from such a fractured bond between a father and daughter?"
"Despite the expert tutors my father hired to homeschool me, I often felt suffocated by the bitterness that stemmed from my isolation, an inexplicable prison I couldn't escape."
"As time passed, I spiraled into darkness, developing toxic traits that consumed me. I refused to see the tutors, refused to interact with anyone.
For months, I locked myself in my room, surviving on stored dried rations."
"The only voices I heard were the muffled pleas of the guards and maids, begging me to emerge.
But the one voice my heart longed to hear, my father's, remained eerily absent."
"In that isolation, toxic thoughts invaded my mind, whispering that my dad never wanted me, that I was a painful reminder of his wife, my mother, due to our striking resemblance.
The guilt was crushing – I couldn't help but feel responsible for her death, even though I knew it wasn't my fault. The pain and self-blame festering inside me, I wondered, what could I have done differently?"
"I had resigned myself to a cruel fate, determined to starve myself to death, hoping my father would discover my withered body upon his return.
Days blurred together, and I lay on my bed, devoid of food, unwashed for weeks, and frail like a dying tree."
"But then, a voice pierced the silence – familiar yet foreign, calling out to me with a nervous and urgent tone from beyond my door.
That voice, though distant, held a filial quality that resonated deep within me, like a long-awaited elixir for my parched spirit.
Despite my near-lifeless state, the voice's urgency coaxed a faint, wry smile onto my dry lips, perhaps rekindling the embers of my will to live."