Jealously?

Jealously?
Ellie's POV

The vibration from my purse distracted me, and I brought out my phone, glancing at the screen to see Nolan's name flashing across it. He was one of my boys who worked for me, and whenever he called at a time like this, I knew there was probably something he needed to report. I slid my finger across the screen and picked up the call, keeping my voice low so Rebecca and Cynthia wouldn't hear everything we were discussing.

“Yes, what do you want, Nolan? This is not the best time to talk,” I said quickly, my eyes still fixed on Lyla's door.

“Well, ma'am, your sister has been calling your mom's phone endlessly today, but we didn't pick up,” he said.

An evil grin immediately formed on my lips.

So she was worried. Good.

At least she was beginning to feel the pressure.

“Good,” I replied, leaning against the wall. “Make sure she can't reach her. Switch off the phone, throw it away, or something. I don't care what you do, just make sure she can't get through.”

I wanted her to keep calling.

I wanted her to wonder why her mother wasn't answering.

I wanted that little feeling of fear to settle inside her because I knew exactly how much her mother meant to her.

“And what about the old woman?” I asked him, my voice becoming more serious.

There was a brief pause before Nolan answered.

“Well, looking at the situation, due to the fact that we've denied her medication for days now, her condition is getting critical,” he said.

“Good.”

The word left my mouth without hesitation.

A cold smile spread across my lips as I looked toward Lyla's room, imagining the panic that would eventually appear on her face when she realized she couldn't reach her mother.

Now I was going to make Lyla suffer even more.

This idiot actually thought she knew what she was doing, didn't she?

She probably thought that when I came to her and told her to pretend to come to my house instead of attacking her immediately for sleeping with Diego, I had somehow forgiven her.

She probably thought I was being kind.

Maybe she even thought I had decided to put everything behind us and give her another chance.

How naïve. She had completely misunderstood me.

I hadn't brought her into my house because I had forgiven her, and I certainly hadn't decided to forget what she had done with Diego. I brought her here because I wanted her close enough for me to control every move she made.

I knew exactly what I was doing.

She thought getting close to Diego would somehow make her life better.

She thought she could work in his house, stand beside him, and pretend that the past between them meant nothing.

But I had seen the way he looked at her.

I had seen the way his voice changed whenever he spoke to her, and I had seen the concern in his eyes when he told her to change that revealing dress.

That was what irritated me the most.
Diego had never cared about what I wore.

He had never looked at me that way.
But suddenly, my sister was different.

Suddenly, he noticed her. Suddenly, he cared about men staring at her.

My fingers tightened around my phone.

No. I wasn't going to allow that.

Lyla had already taken enough from me.

She had betrayed me by sleeping with my husband, and now she was slowly becoming someone Diego actually cared about.

I couldn't let it continue.

“Make sure you keep watching her,” I told Nolan. “I don't want her finding a way to reach her mother.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And Nolan,” I added, my voice becoming colder, “don't ever make the mistake of calling her my mother again. Did you hear me? If you ever make that mistake, I'm going to make sure I chop off your tongue.”

There was silence for a second.

“Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. It won't happen again,” he replied quickly.

I hung up without saying anything else and slipped my phone back into my purse.

“Who was that?” Rebecca asked, looking at me curiously.

I turned toward her and immediately softened my expression.

“Well, it's something I needed to deal with,” I replied casually. “Don't worry. Everything is going to get interesting.”

Rebecca looked like she wanted to ask another question, but before she could, I glanced down the hallway and noticed Diego approaching.

My expression changed instantly.

“Girl, we need to hide. He's coming,” I whispered.

Rebecca and Cynthia quickly followed me as we moved toward the side of Lyla's door, trying to stay out of sight. We pressed ourselves against the wall and waited as Diego walked down the hallway.

He didn't notice us, he simply continued walking, his expression cold and serious as he passed by Lyla's room.

We waited until he was far enough away before Rebecca slowly peeked around the corner.

“What if we go to attack her?” she whispered.

“No, no, don't,” I replied immediately.

Rebecca looked at me in confusion. “Why not?”

“Let her be,” I said, folding my arms. “Diego has ordered her to change her dress. He seemed to care about her very much.”

The words sounded almost casual when I said them, but inside, something twisted painfully.

He cared about her. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Diego had never cared about the clothes I wore. He had never stopped me from wearing something because it was too revealing. He had never looked at me with that kind of concern.

Yet he had done all of that for Lyla. Why?

Was she really that different? Was she prettier than me?

The thought immediately made me angry with myself.

I shouldn't even be comparing myself to her.

I was his wife. She was my sister.

But somehow, she was becoming the woman who received all the attention I had once believed belonged to me.

“I'm so sorry,” Cynthia suddenly said, placing a hand on my arm. “I know what you must be going through, but your sister is just a backstabber.”

I looked at her and forced a smile. “It's fine.”

But it wasn't. I wasn't fine, Not even close, I was jealous.

And admitting that to myself made me even angrier.

I hated the way Diego looked at Lyla.

I hated the way he spoke to her.

I hated the fact that he seemed to notice her presence even when she wasn't trying to get his attention.

But most of all, I hated the possibility that he mig
ht actually care about her.

I looked toward Lyla's door, and a slow smile returned to my lips.

“She's going to know her place tonight,” I said.