Chapter 12 Maya's Story
Eli doesn’t open the door.
He stands there, jaw locked, shoulders squared, staring through the peephole like he’s measuring the exact force it would take to break someone’s skull if they tried to come inside. Every line of him radiates restrained fury.
I move behind him instinctively.
Marcus’s presence always drags something cold and primal out of me. The kind of fear that lingers in the ribs long after the bruises fade.
“Eli,” I whisper, “don’t-”
He lifts one hand, a quiet warning.
Stay back.
Don’t expose yourself.
Let him take the hit.
Marcus knocks again.
Harder.
“Seraphina,” he calls, voice smooth and polished. Too calm. Too familiar. “Open the door. I know you’re awake.”
Maya whimpers and buries her face in her panda.
Eli flinches.
Mrs. Hughes presses herself into the kitchen doorway, her mug trembling violently.
Marcus knocks again, not frantic, not angry.
Just certain and prepared. Like this moment was rehearsed.
“Sera,” he says softly, as if coaxing me, “we need to discuss last night. And this morning.”
Ice slides down my spine.
Last night.
The voicemail.
The creek dream.
Things he should not know. Things he couldn’t possibly know unless someone told him, or unless something darker is threading through this house.
Before I can speak, Eli does.
“She’s not opening this door.”
His voice is steel.
A quiet laugh leaks through the wood. “Eli Reyes. Should’ve known you’d still be hiding behind her.”
Eli doesn’t blink.
He doesn’t breathe.
He simply waits.
Marcus clicks his tongue gently. “What example are you setting for Maya? Teaching her that men can waltz into her house at any hour? That her mother’s boundaries are optional?”
My temper spikes, sharp and sudden. “My boundaries,” I snap, stepping forward, “have nothing to do with you.”
Eli shoots me a warning look, equal parts anger and protection.
Marcus hums. “Seraphina, when you refuse to let me into the home where my daughter lives, that becomes a legal matter.”
My chest tightens. “It’s not your time with her.”
“It is,” he says simply. “It’s Saturday.”
I freeze.
It is Saturday.
Somehow, in the chaos, in the attic, in the warnings, in the shadows...time slipped out from under me.
“Marcus,” I whisper, “this is not a good day. We need to reschedule.”
He laughs. Soft. Delighted. “Oh, sweetheart. You don’t get to reschedule court orders.”
Panic punches through me.
Eli senses it.
His jaw knots.
“You don’t have to let him in,” he murmurs.
“I-” My throat burns. “I legally might.”
Eli steps in closer, his voice low. “If you don’t feel safe, you don’t.”
The knock comes again.
Hard.
Violent.
“Seraphina,” Marcus calls, “open the door. Or I’ll call the police and let them decide if you’re emotionally stable today.”
Heat climbs my chest, shame, fury, humiliation.
He has used this tactic before.
He knows exactly where the bruises on my past still sit.
Eli’s hands curl into fists so tight the tendons stand out like wire.
“Say one more thing to scare her,” he says quietly, “and you’ll be talking to me instead.”
The air thickens, charged, electric, like the moment before lightning hits.
“Eli.” I grip his arm, voice shaking. “Please.”
He exhales slowly, muscles twitching as he forces restraint back into his bones.
“I can’t do this in front of Maya,” I whisper.
He turns.
Maya sits at her tiny table, clutching her panda, eyes too wide, too glassy.
Seeing her terrified, the fight goes out of me.
“We’ll talk outside,” I say. “But he does not come in.”
Eli hesitates. Hard.
He wants to refuse.
He wants to fight.
But he sees Maya. He sees me.
He nods once.
He unlocks the door and opens it only an inch.
Marcus’s smile spills through the crack, sleek, curated, smug.
“Good morning.”
“Stay outside,” Eli warns.
Marcus’s gaze flicks over Eli’s shoulder until it lands on me.
“You look tired, Seraphina. Long night?”
Something twists under my ribs, shame, anger...fear. A knot I can’t untangle.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“My daughter.”
I stiffen. “She’s not going with you today.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“She’s sick,” I lie. “She didn’t sleep.”
Marcus tilts his head, studying me. “Is she sick, or are you having one of your episodes again?”
Eli steps forward like he’s ready to break something.
Marcus smirks. “Careful, Reyes. Last time you lunged at me, you were lucky I didn’t call the cops.”
“That wasn’t lunging,” Eli growls. “That was me stopping you from grabbing her.”
Marcus waves a hand. “You exaggerate.”
“I’m not doing this,” I say sharply. “Marcus, Maya is not going with you. Not today.”
For the first time since he arrived, Marcus’s mask cracks, just a fracture.
“Sera,” he murmurs, “you’re digging a hole you really don’t want to fall into.”
Eli fully steps between us.
“Get off the porch,” he says softly. Deadly.
Marcus lifts his hands like he’s harmless. “Fine. I’ll be back with paperwork.”
Good. Leave.
He steps backward.
But before he turns to go, he stops.
His eyes meet mine.
For one impossible second, I see something unfamiliar in his expression.
Not anger.
Not control.
Fear?
Real fear.
“You should stop remembering that night,” he whispers.
The world tilts.
Then he turns and walks away.
I stand frozen long after his car disappears.
Eli closes the door quietly, locks it, then faces me.
He sees the unraveling behind my eyes.
“Sera,” he says gently, reaching out but stopping just short of touching me. “Hey. Look at me.”
I can’t.
I can barely breathe.
“Mommy?”
Maya’s small voice breaks the moment.
I turn instantly.
She drags her panda by the ear, climbs into my arms, her little body trembling.
“Mama,” she whispers into my neck, “the lady said Daddy scares her.”
Ice rips down my spine.
Eli stiffens. “What lady?”
Maya looks up at him, then at me.
“The lady with the pretty hair,” she whispers.
My chest caves inward.
“What did she say, baby?” I ask gently.
Maya hugs her panda tighter. “She said Mommy’s remembering too slow. And Daddy doesn’t want her to.”
Eli’s breath stops.
Mine shatters.
Maya leans forward and presses her forehead to mine.
“Mommy?” she murmurs.
“Yes, baby.”
“She said… you’re the only one who can tell the truth.”
My voice barely exists. “How, sweetheart? How do I tell the truth if I can’t remember it?”
Maya lifts her hand and points toward the stairs.
“Go ask her,” she whispers.
My heart splits open.
“Ask who?” Eli asks carefully.
Maya’s voice is barely a breath.
“The lady in my closet.”