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Madison

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Next Day

I had to clean a house earlier today, but after the news Eleanor gave me yesterday, there's nothing in the world that can keep me away from here.

The social worker responsible for checking the wellbeing of the babies since Brooklyn went into a coma seems determined to take the children to foster care. Her justification is that we don't know if my sister will ever wake up and that Eleanor and I are not capable of providing what they need.

I clasp my hands together, incredibly nervous, and I hate that this witch makes me feel this way.

In fact, I hate anyone who makes me feel inadequate, because that's what I've fought against my whole life: the feeling of never being enough.

Both my sister and I bear scars from the way my father's raised us until Eleanor came into our lives. My biological mother died just before I turned one, but by that time she had already left because she couldn't handle my father's craziness.

Oh, and the lies, of course. Because he was incapable of owning up to his mistakes.

It was only when I was about to turn seven that he married my stepmother, and then our life got relatively back on track.

Now, as I struggle to provide my niece and nephew with a home surrounded by family, this crazy woman has decided to tear us apart.

Children don't just need money; they need love above all, and that's something we have in abundance to offer.

I step out of the bathroom after checking my appearance in the mirror once again. My OCD is in full-gear, so I'm satisfied to find not a single hair out of place. I'm the picture of perfection.

I feel relatively confident to face the woman who, as soon as I enter the room, I see sitting on our worn-out couch, facing Eleanor.

Unlike me, my stepmother is fragile and somewhat insecure, clearly showing the social worker just how terrified she is.

Beside her, Silas and Soraya play with their teething toys, oblivious to our nervousness and completely unaware that the woman with a fake expression of sympathy staring at them wants to take them away from us.

I pass by her after a curt greeting and crouch down to speak to my niece and nephew.

Only then do I sit down next to my stepmother.

Twenty minutes later, I'm trembling so much I fear I might faint. "I have a job."

"Not a stable one. Cleaning houses to make a living is uncertain. What if one day all your clients decide to let you go at once?" the woman asks as she inspects our apartment for the thousandth time. "This room isn't suitable for the children either. The window is small, so not much air comes in."

What she's saying is nothing different from what she's said before, and as always, I know she's nitpicking to get what she wants: taking the children away.

My greater desperation stems from the fact that I do have a stable job, but if I were to mention that I'll be earning a good salary as an exotic dancer, she'd have the upper hand to take the twins.

"What do I need to do to make you leave us alone?" I ask, mentally exhausted. In previous encounters, I tried to be kind and used various tricks I learned from my father to manipulate someone, but nothing worked.

It's just the two of us in the children's room doorway, as Eleanor stayed with the babies in the living room.

"I don't think there’s anything you can do to change my opinion," she retorts with arrogance.

"Listen here, Mrs. Mirtes. I think it's become quite clear, after eight visits in just two months, that we don't exactly like each other, to say the least. But we don't need to, do we? It's not about that; it's about the future of my niece and nephew. You've found fault with everything I've done for them so far. Every visit, you claim that what I'm providing for them 'isn't enough.' So, to save us both time, tell me what is enough. Tell me straight: what do I need to do for you to leave us alone?"

I know I've lost control, and at this moment, I despise this woman with every ounce of blood in my body, but I'm going to get this snake off my back, no matter the cost.

"You don't have the means to provide what they need."

"You know perfectly well you can't claim that in front of a judge without being more specific."

"Fine, young lady. If that's what you want, the only way to change my opinion is if you manage to secure a house of at least a hundred square meters, in a decent neighborhood, with a yard for them to play in. I also need to be sure that the source of income you'll use to cover the new residence is legal. You have two weeks from today, or else I will strongly recommend to the judge that the children go to temporary foster care."

She says that just as we reach the living room, and Eleanor overhears. My stepmother starts crying, and a murderous vein, one I never thought existed within me, makes me want to squeeze the thin neck of the social worker until it snaps.

However, killing her, even if it would rid the world of a demon in a skirt, wouldn't help to protect my niece and nephew.

I am not a victim; I am the one who finds solutions, and as I look at the two toothless little beings depending on me, at my weeping stepmother, and then at that despicable woman, I know I hold the answer in the palm of my hand.

Even if it means killing a piece of my soul, I won't let them take my niece and nephew away.

"In two weeks, you'll have all those requirements met," I say, trying to exude self-confidence.

She looks at me cynically and then leaves the apartment without saying goodbye to Eleanor or the children.

"Now what?" my stepmother asks as soon as we hear the door shut.

"Trust me. I'll figure something out."

I enter the babies' room and retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans.

I search for the name I want in my contacts, and my hand trembles as I tap the screen to make the call.

He picks up on the third ring, and the commanding tone of his voice alone has the power to calm me.

"Zeus, it's me, Madison." I know he won’t have my number, unless he checked my information with Ares, which, despite being an invasion of privacy, wouldn't surprise me.

"Madison, you still have a few hours until your deadline expires."

I had forgotten that I promised to get back to him within forty-eight hours, as I was determined to stay far away from this man. However, now he represents my only salvation.

"That's exactly why I called," I lie. "You made me an offer, and I have a counterproposal. Can we meet today?"

"What time?"

"I need to dance."

"I'll talk to Ares to let you go."

"No, I have to work. We can talk after."

"A dance. That's all you'll do today. Don't test me," he says in a manner very much like the way his brother warned me not to bluff with him on the day he hired me. "I'll pick you up at eleven, at the back of SIN.”