Chapter 3 The Fall

"We need to cut this short."

Diro's voice sliced through the tension like a blade, his hand already reaching for Beverly's arm. "We have somewhere to go."

Riko looked up from soothing her crying baby, confusion flickering across her sharp features. "But you just got here, brother. Mother's been planning this party for weeks"

"The Kent crime family is moving product through our docks," Diro cut her off, his voice dropping to that dangerous tone that made everyone in the room freeze. "Business doesn't wait for birthday parties."

Beverly felt his fingers dig into her arm as he pulled her toward the door. She didn't resist-she never did anymore. The promise of escape, even temporary, was too precious to fight.

"Let's go," he muttered, not bothering with goodbyes as he dragged her through the marble foyer. "I'll drop you at work."

The restaurant. Beverly's one sanctuary in this suffocating world, the place where she could pretend to be normal for a few hours. She'd begged him for months to let her work there, desperate for human contact beyond the toxic walls of the Carter mansion.

The car ride started in blessed silence, but Beverly should have known it wouldn't last.

"About what my mother said," Diro's voice was deceptively casual as he navigated through traffic. "About children."

Beverly's entire body tensed. Her hands twisted in her lap, a nervous habit she'd developed over years of walking on eggshells.

"She made it clear she doesn't want another mute," Beverly signed, her movements sharp with pain. "Let's not upset her."

Diro's jaw clenched. "That last time we... I didn't use protection."

The memory hit Beverly like a slap his hands on her, taking what he wanted without care for her wishes or her heart. She forced her voice to remain steady as she signed her response.

"I took Plan B. And my regular pills, as always."

The car jerked as Diro's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "So you really don't want my children." His voice was raw with something that might have been hurt if she didn't know better. "You'd rather poison yourself than carry my baby."

Beverly stared at him in disbelief. How could he not remember? How could he forget that it was his own mother who'd forced those pills down her throat, who'd made her terminate the pregnancy she'd treasured?

"And another thing," Diro continued, his voice growing harder. "You're not working at that restaurant anymore. I don't want you there."

Beverly's heart plummeted. The restaurant was her lifeline, her only connection to a world beyond the Carter nightmare.

"And stop wearing makeup," he added, his eyes flicking to her reflection in the rearview mirror. "It makes you look cheap. Ugly. I don't like my women painted up like whores."

Beverly's hand instinctively went to her lips, where she'd carefully applied a subtle gloss that morning. The small act of beautifying herself had felt like rebellion, like reclaiming some tiny piece of her identity.

But even as he spoke, Beverly's mind drifted to Faye. Faye with her perfectly contoured cheekbones, her blood-red lips, her smoky eyes that never seemed to bother Diro. Why was it only Beverly who had to exist as a ghost?

"You don't need those wages anyway," Diro was saying. "I can take care of you without you parading yourself around for strangers."

Beverly reached up with trembling fingers and wiped away the lip gloss, the small act feeling like surrender. Another piece of herself erased to appease his inexplicable cruelty.

"We're going home," Diro announced, already changing lanes to turn around.

But before he could complete the turn, a familiar voice rang out across the parking lot.

"Hey Diro, sweetheart!"

Beverly's blood turned to ice. Through the windshield, she watched Faye saunter toward their car, her hips swaying in a way that was definitely intentional. She was stunning in a tight red dress that hugged every curve, her makeup flawless, her smile predatory.

"Faye?" Diro's voice carried surprise and something else-pleasure? "What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's your mother's birthday, darling," Faye purred, leaning against the car door. "I'm a guest too. I just came out for some fresh air and saw your car."

Her eyes slid to Beverly with the precision of a snake striking. "I should have known you'd have your little mute skank in here with you."

"Yes," Diro replied without hesitation.

The single word hit Beverly like a physical blow. He didn't defend her. Didn't correct the slur. Just confirmed it with casual indifference, as if Beverly's humanity was negotiable.

Beverly's vision blurred, but she forced herself to sit perfectly still. She wouldn't break. Not here. Not in front of them. She'd learned to swallow her tears, to digest her pain until it became part of her bones.

"You know what?" Diro's voice suddenly shifted, becoming almost cheerful. "Beverly, get out."

Beverly blinked, certain she'd misheard. Her hands moved in confused sign language. "What?"

"Get out. Go to work. I thought you always wanted to go to work?" His smile was cruel, mocking. "I'm changing my mind. Step down and go."

Beverly's heart hammered against her ribs. Something was wrong. Diro never changed his mind, never gave her what she wanted without extracting a price. But the restaurant was her sanctuary, and she was desperate for escape.

She reached for the door handle with trembling fingers, pushed it open, and began to step out onto the asphalt.

That's when she saw it Faye's designer heel, positioned perfectly in her path like a hidden trap.

Time slowed to a crawl. Beverly's foot caught on Faye's strategically placed leg, her balance tilting dangerously forward. The pavement rushed up to meet her, hard and unforgiving. She could already feel the impact, could already taste the blood that would come from split lips and scraped palms.

But in that suspended moment between standing and falling, between safety and humiliation, Beverly's world hung in perfect, terrifying balance.

Would she hit the ground? Would she give them the satisfaction of seeing her broken and bleeding on the asphalt?

Or would something anything save her from this final, calculated cruelty?

The answer hovered in the air like a held breath, waiting to shatter the silence.