Filed to story: The Daughter in the Shadows (Yunice) Book by Una Norris
Yunice waited until they were gone, then calmly picked up the bowl of soup from the table.
Morgan was left speechless. Greasy broth dripped down his face; his expression turned a deep livid red. He jumped up, shaking with rage. Elianna just sat there, frozen.
Yunice casually dropped the bowl back on the table and said, “Idiot. You so much as lay a finger on me, and what-Wyatt’s not gonna find out? You think whatever you know, Wyatt doesn’t? The stuff he doesn’t even care about, you’re here jumping around like some clown for what?”
Morgan’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth practically cracked; his eyes burned red with fury.
Elianna actually found Yunice’s words reasonable. She reached out to stop Morgan, trying to calm him down. If he lost it and Wyatt got involved, she’d end up dragged into it too. Morgan shoved her off. He grabbed a couple of napkins and wiped his face roughly, then stormed off toward the open-air balcony.
Not long after, loud crashing and clanging came from outside-Morgan venting his rage on whatever furniture he could smash.
Yunice looked over at Elianna. The moment their eyes met, Elianna immediately lowered her gaze, not daring to look Yunice in the eye. She didn’t like Yunice, but she also knew better than to stir anything up in front of Wyatt. Yunice didn’t bother with her. She turned and left Mary’s room.
She knew exactly what Mary had pulled Wyatt aside to say. Her reputation was already bad enough, and the fact that the man in question was Paul-well, that just made things worse. That exact dynamic was something Jackson had engineered from the start. And it just so happened to be the one thing Wyatt’s camp hated most. She could have had flings with anyone-anyone except Paul. Not one of us, not one of heart. Even children knew what that meant. So from the very beginning, this marriage had been a battleground.
When Wyatt came back, Yunice was sitting at the small desk, doing practice problems. She was completely focused, as if the chaos at the dinner table hadn’t even happened. She worked through the equations smoothly-until a human shadow fell across her workbook. Yunice looked up and met Wyatt’s gaze. He turned, sat on the edge of her desk, and looked down at her. “You want to go back to school?”
Yunice nodded. She’d already made up her mind-she wanted to earn her degree again, to…
Wyatt said, “School’s too slow.” Finishing undergrad, then a master’s, maybe a PhD-best case, that’d take eight or nine years. In eight or nine years, entire companies could rise and go public.
Yunice replied, “I don’t care.”
Wyatt stayed quiet for a long time. Yunice didn’t speak either. She waited for him to bring up Paul. But Wyatt didn’t. And Yunice couldn’t just avoid it either. She said, “Actually, that week on the yacht…”
Wyatt’s phone rang, cutting her off mid-sentence. Yunice’s eyes dimmed slightly; she gestured for him to take the call. Whatever was said on the other end, Wyatt didn’t share. After hanging up, he asked her, “Bored?”
“Want to go out and clear your head?”
Yunice thought for a second, then nodded. “Sure.” She knew she’d be dealing with Wyatt a lot in the future; getting to know his world now could only help.
The car was already waiting downstairs. Remembering Yunice hadn’t finished her sentence earlier, Wyatt asked, “What were you trying to say just now?”
Yunice glanced at the people passing by and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
Wyatt didn’t press her. He took her to a private club; the suite was full of people, and Bale opened the door. Yunice had met him once before-she knew who he was, but they weren’t close. Still, the first thing he did was greet her with a casual, “Sister-in-law,” before even acknowledging Wyatt. The word caught Yunice off guard; her cheeks flushed. She wasn’t used to it.
Once they stepped into the room, Bale moved a chair for her, and Jordan set out utensils at her place. Only one woman standing nearby seemed to be eyeing Yunice closely. Yunice sensed the hostility almost instinctively. But when she looked up, the woman quickly replaced the look with a pleasant smile. She was introduced as Amyra-Bale’s girlfriend.
As the drinks and conversation flowed, everyone stayed respectful toward Yunice. No one tried to make things hard for her. At one point during dinner, Yunice excused herself to use the restroom. Amyra stood up immediately. “Ms. Saunders, I’ll go with you.” Bale stepped aside without hesitation. Wyatt didn’t say anything.
As soon as the two women left, Bale brought Morgan into the room. Morgan’s shirt collar was torn, and he and Bale were still pushing at each other by the time they reached Wyatt. Morgan finally stopped, standing there with that bratty, insolent look on his face, just begging to be slapped.
Wyatt leaned forward and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. A faint hiss broke the silence of the room. Morgan’s mouth twitched slightly, but he fought to keep his composure. Wyatt said, “Apologize to Yunice.”
Morgan’s face flushed deep red. Wyatt said again, “Don’t make me say it twice.” Morgan realized he meant it.
Because usually, no matter how out of line he acted, Wyatt turned a blind eye-even if Morgan danced in his face. But now, he was drawing a hard line. Morgan couldn’t accept that. No way at all. He kicked over a footstool and shouted, “When was the last time you even went back to Gardison Residence?”
Jordan and Bale immediately moved to hold him back, but Morgan thrashed like a madman and broke free, screaming, “That woman is disgusting! She’s been used up-how the heck is she still worth anything?”
Bang! Morgan went flying. Jordan and Bale hadn’t been able to stop it. Their faces went pale. Others might not have realized it, but they did-Wyatt almost never used that kind of force on Morgan. He hadn’t even gotten back up.
Wyatt sat back down, annoyed, and pulled another cigarette from the pack. “Call him an ambulance.” Morgan, as arrogant as he usually was, didn’t even try to act tough this time. It was clear he was actually hurt.
Still, as they helped him out, he clenched his jaw and muttered, “She just took a hit for Rainier Arc Street, and now she’s suddenly-” His fists trembled. He glared at Wyatt, who sat in the shadows, the faint glow of his fingers the only color in the dim light, and finally walked away, bitter and defeated.
Wyatt barely touched the new cigarette before crushing it out again in the ashtray. Jordan exchanged a look with Bale, giving him the signal to go get Yunice. The room had turned heavy with silence. Bale jogged toward the restroom.
In the bathroom, Yunice and Amyra were washing their hands. Yunice took the initiative. “Ms. Amyra. It’s been a while.”
Amyra wiped her hands dry, then tilted her head. “You’ve changed a lot, Ms. Saunders…”
Yunice said nothing. In Silverburgh’s social circles, Elsie had long since replaced her as the Saunders family’s representative. As far as society was concerned, Yunice didn’t even exist. Amyra, like Bale and Jordan, had known her in the past. And if they’d known her before, they definitely recognized her now.
Yunice said, “Ms. Amyra, I can tell people seem to have a problem with me. Since we used to be on decent terms, could you give me a heads-up?”
When Yunice said “decent terms,” Amyra’s lashes visibly fluttered. She didn’t look at Yunice. Instead, she squirted some hand cream onto her palm. “You’re not Ms. Saunders anymore, and you’re not Paul’s fianc?e either. You’re a nobody now. Who has the time to go out of their way to make things difficult for you?”
Yunice heard the implication beneath her words. “So it’s still because of Wyatt, isn’t it?”
Amyra frowned, hesitated, then glanced around the restroom to make sure no one was listening. Finally, she lowered her voice. “You really shouldn’t marry Wyatt. If you do, you’ll regret it eventually.”
“That’s all I can say.” With that, Amyra grabbed her purse, brushed past Yunice, and walked out. Yunice tossed the used paper towel into the trash and followed behind her.
Bale had just missed the two of them by the time he reached the restroom. He was about to turn around and search elsewhere when he heard Amyra’s scream. “Fire! Somebody help! Fire!”
Bale took off running toward the sound. Flames were already tearing through the carpet by the elevator; they’d climbed high enough to melt the decorations on the ceiling. Molten chunks kept falling, mixing with the fire below to form a wall of flame that sealed off the elevator entirely. Thick smoke poured inward. Amyra’s coughing echoed through it. “Yunice, what are you standing there for? Help me put it out! Hit the elevator button! Did the fire system cut the power?”
“Amyra! Amyra, you wench! I’m gonna burn to death! Yunice? Yunice?”
Amyra ran off and grabbed a fire extinguisher from the emergency shaft. By the time Bale arrived, others had joined in, blasting the flames with extinguishers. White smoke collided with the fire, battling for ground.
Once the blaze was finally under control, Bale charged into the elevator and swiftly pulled Amyra out. Amyra dropped to the floor, gasping for air, her smoke-choked brain taking a while to clear. She looked around-and suddenly realized Yunice was still inside. She cried out, “Yunice’s still in there!”
“It’s fine, it’s fine; the fire’s out…” Bale shielded Amyra in his arms and looked back toward the elevator. But if the fire was out, why wasn’t Yunice coming out?
Yunice couldn’t move-though she desperately wanted to. She sat huddled in the farthest corner of the elevator car, her tear-filled eyes fixed on the smoke still swirling before her. The fire had scorched everything it touched into black. Even through the haze, Yunice could see clearly. She saw them enter. She saw Amyra get rescued. But no one saved her. No one saved her. No one saved her….
Fine, then I’ll walk out myself.
She tried to move, to stand, but her fingers wouldn’t respond. Her body was locked up like a rusted machine-creaking and grinding, but refusing to act. Tears streamed down her cheeks, though her jaw clenched tightly. She grabbed at the elevator wall, trying to push herself up; the effort made the veins at her temple bulge. It was no use. Willpower couldn’t overpower paralysis. A whimper escaped her lips. Yunice bit down hard-she didn’t want to cry out loud.
There had been harder moments. More painful ones. And she’d never cried then….
Suddenly, the elevator dipped. A tall figure rushed in, broad shoulders cutting off her view. Wyatt caught Yunice just as her legs gave out. Her arms landed stiffly around his shoulders, her full weight collapsing into him. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her emotions tore through her, and she barely noticed the world shifting around her. The memory of Owen saving Elsie but not her had etched itself so deeply into her mind; it played on repeat, over and over. The heat, gosh, the fire had burned.
Wyatt thought she was just terrified. He tried to pull her back to make her open her eyes, but the more he tried, the tighter she clung to him.
“Yunice?” His voice sharpened in frustration.
Wyatt grunted. Yunice had bitten him. His instinct kicked in-he tried to shove her off. And he did. But the second she went flying toward the elevator wall, he snapped out of it and yanked her back before she could hit.
Bale ran in just in time to see a trembling Yunice and Wyatt’s arm dripping with blood. Wyatt glared at him, then hoisted Yunice up and carried her out of the elevator.
Bale’s stomach twisted. He knew Wyatt was blaming him for not rescuing Yunice. But… hadn’t it made sense to save his own girlfriend first?
Wyatt kicked open the door to a suite and dragged Yunice into the bathroom. He turned on the shower; icy water poured from overhead, catching Yunice completely off guard. The cold doused the heat still clinging to her skin and began to calm her fraying nerves. Standing under the stream, Yunice tilted her head up and opened her eyes to the showerhead.
Wyatt reached out, grabbed her chin, and forced her mouth open. “Breathe!”
Yunice gasped. Her glassy eyes finally focused on Wyatt. They were both under the spray now-both soaked. Wyatt’s hands rested on her shoulder, eyes locked tightly on hers. Her breathing slowed. The tension eased. Looking into his gaze, still smoldering with anger, she rose up on her toes and hooked her arms around his neck.
“Hold me,” she whispered.
Wyatt froze. And then Yunice kissed him, eyes shut, greedy for every inch of him. Wyatt’s pupils widened in surprise-shocked at her sudden boldness, and at the fact that, somehow, he was the one being swept along.
That wouldn’t do. Wyatt gripped Yunice’s chin and took control, deepening the kiss.
Yunice’s fingers slid down the back of his neck, tugging at his collar until she popped off two buttons, then slipped her hand inside. Wyatt let out a low breath and opened his eyes to look at her. What was she trying to do?
Water clung to Yunice’s lashes as she looked up at him, calm and composed. “Wanna play?” she asked.