Love between Players

Receiver: Who the hell are you, and how did you get this?

Sender: None of your business. Send me a million dollars, or I'll be sending it to the press for more money.

Receiver: No, no, please. I'll send it, but I need to find the money. Can you give me a week?

Sender: Four days. Or the next minute, I'm pressing send to my favorite reporter and newspaper.

Leticia's hands were clammy, trembling as she held her phone. Her head hung low in the suffocating space of her room, heart thundering against her chest as she feared someone would burst through her door and catch her. Her fingers flew over the keys, blackmailing Elaine with a face so pale it barely matched the mask of resilience she wore.

Sending the video to McFarlane wasn't an option. His retaliation would be swift and absolute. Elaine, on the other hand, was softer, easier to manipulate, a very desperate woman. And yet, something about the task still felt wrong.

It was illegal!

Elaine: Fine. Four days.

What kind of hell was this job? Leticia thought bitterly, her chest tightening with the weight of Justin's plans. She dreaded the next impossible task he'd throw at her. Most of all, she dreaded where this six-month engagement charade might lead.

Tossing the encrypted phone under her pillow, Leticia slid beneath her duvet. She closed her eyes, praying for sleep, but instead, she was haunted by the images of Justin and those girls.

They were burned into her mind—every moan, every thrust. His voice, smooth yet commanding, replayed in her ears. The way his hands roamed their bodies as if each curve had been sculpted for his pleasure.

Damn him! Even in her mind, he was a tormentor.

She tried to shift her thoughts, but her body betrayed her. Heat pooled in her belly, and her skin felt alive with aching need. Before she could stop herself, she reached under the duvet, her trembling hand moving in slow circles.

"Fuck you, Justin," she groaned under her breath, imagining his touch. But before she could drown in desire, a familiar knock shattered her trance.

Riley.

The distinctive rhythm—3-2-1. Leticia sighed, anger momentarily dissolving her arousal. Pretending to sleep was no longer an option as Riley called again.

"Hey. Hey, girl... I know you're in there. Are you sleeping? Please, I need someone to talk to. Open the door."

Dragging herself to the door, Leticia opened it to find Riley, swaying unsteadily. Her eyes were glassy, her makeup smudged.

"Hey, Leti! Ooooph, you're so fine. What's up?" Riley stumbled inside, her tears pooling at the edges of her eyes.

"What are you doing here, Riley? You have your own house. I have work..."

Riley waved dismissively, slumping onto the couch. "I know. I just... I hate my house. I hate my family. I hate everything. But you..." Her voice cracked. "You're the only real thing in my life. Please, Leti. Promise me I won't lose you. Promise!"

The pain in Riley's voice sliced through Leticia. Despite her instinct to remain detached, she felt a tug of pity. But along with it came an idea—a reckless one. Drunk Riley might answer questions sober Riley wouldn't even consider.

"Riley?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a brother?"

Riley laughed hysterically, tossing her bag into a corner. "A brother? Oh, Leti... Not really. I mean, there's someone who should be, but Daddy doesn't acknowledge him." She paused, her laughter breaking into a sob. "And... oh God, I have a crush on him! I hate myself!"

Leticia's breath caught. "Sorry, what?"

Riley sobbed harder. "Yes! I know it's sick. But I love him. And now he's marrying that witch Elaine in six months. Why can't he see me? I'm right here! We don't even look alike. Why doesn't he love me?"

The revelation slammed into Leticia like a freight train. The McFarlane family was far more twisted than she had imagined. This mess, combined with her disguise, would drive her mad.

"What about your father?" she ventured carefully.

Riley stiffened, her tears vanishing as a shadow fell over her expression. "Why?"

"I just want to make sure you're safe."

For a long moment, Riley stared at her, unreadable. Then she muttered, "Hmm, thanks– I'd like to sleep now."

Moments later, she was snoring on Leticia's bed.

Knowing Riley couldn't stay without her risking her disguise, Leticia made a choice. Dressing up as Dexter, she decided to crash at her aunt's house, where her mother also lived—a place of comfort and fear all at once.

Standing outside the familiar door, her heart raced. She hadn't visited in years, not as herself, not ever as herself. Every part of her screamed to run, yet she rang the bell with trembling fingers.

The door opened to reveal her Aunt Rita's sleepy but joyous face.

"Dexter!" she exclaimed, her warm smile lighting up the dim doorway.

Leticia forced a smile, though tears burned in her eyes. Aunt Rita was her safe space, but her unwavering affection for a nephew who didn't exist broke Leticia's heart every time.

"Hi, Aunty," Leticia managed, stepping into a hug that nearly cracked her composure.

Rita squeezed her tight. "It's been too long! How have you been? I've missed you, my dear nephew."

"I missed you too," Leticia whispered, swallowing back the scream that clawed at her throat. "How's Mum?"

"She's asleep. Should I wake her?"

"No!" Leticia said, almost too quickly. She covered her panic with a faint smile. "She loves her sleep. I just... wanted to crash on the couch for a couple of hours."

Aunt Rita's brows knit in concern. "Are you in trouble, Dexter?"

"No, Aunty. Just passing through the neighborhood," Leticia lied, her smile faltering when a voice cut through the hallway.

"Dexter?"

The sound froze her blood.

Her mother's voice.

Tears spilled down Leticia's cheeks as her mother appeared. The years had aged her, but her presence was as powerful as ever. Each step she took toward Leticia felt like an anvil falling on her chest.

"What are you doing? Go to her—she misses you!" Aunt Rita said encouragingly.

But Leticia couldn't move. Her feet were cemented to the floor, her lungs seizing as memories of pain, abandonment, betrayal, and mental torture encapsulated her consciousness.

Her mother's gaze softened. "Dexter... my baby," she said, reaching out with trembling hands.

"No," Leticia whimpered, her voice barely audible. The edges of her vision darkened, and her breathing grew ragged.

"Dexter! Stay with us, child!" her aunt's voice rang out, but Leticia could no longer fight the darkness that swallowed her whole.

The last thing she heard was her mother's panicked cries: "Dexter! Don't leave me again! Dexter!"