Lethal Temptation (by Michelle Ray) novel Chapter 296

Clam

296 Becoming Herself

Mara

“Mara, how are you? How is everyone?” Martha asked gently, settling across from me with the kind of grace that only comes after choosing stillness.

Her voice carried warmth, and yet as it reached me, a sharp ache rose in my chest. I reached out instinctively, taking her hand in mine. The touch steadied me, but it also made the wound of her silence

throb all the more.

“I thought we connected, Martha,” I said softly, my voice trembling despite my effort to hold it firm. “Not even a call. Nothing. Not for Tiffany. Not for Darian. Not even for baby Emma. Why didn’t you reach out?”

Her smile faltered. The corners of her lips trembled, then fell away entirely. “Mara…” she murmured.

She sighed and dropped her gaze to our entwined hands. I felt her fingers shift slightly, as though she wanted to pull away but couldn’t.

“I wanted a break,” she said, each word careful, deliberate. “I needed it. To find myself again. To breathe without obligation. If I’d called… I think I would’ve given in and come home. And I wasn’t ready.”

Her honesty cut deep. I nodded, though my throat tightened so much I could hardly breathe. She was struggling, I could see it clearly, caught between guilt for leaving and the fragile clarity she had fought so

hard to find.

But there was something else flickering behind her eyes. A question, unspoken, yet pressing.

“Olivia gave you my address, didn’t she?” she asked suddenly.

I hesitated, then nodded again. “She did.”

Her shoulders dipped, but she didn’t seem angry. More… resigned.

I decided not to press her grief too hard, not yet. Instead, I forced a small smile. “Congratulations, by the way. The foundation you started in Goldenpeak, it’s inspiring.”

At once, her face lit up. For the first time since I arrived, she squeezed my hand with genuine warmth. “I

got all your donations, Mara. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” I whispered, relief stirring faintly in me at the sight of her joy.

Then silence fell. Awkward, lingering, the kind that scraped the edges of the heart.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked abruptly, rising to her feet with too much eagerness.

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, bubbling out like air from a cracked vessel.

She blinked, confused. “What’s funny?”

“When we went around visiting your friends to recruit female fighters,” I explained through my laughter,”

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<296 Becoining Herself

they offered so much tea. At some point, I realised it wasn’t about being refreshed, it was their way of dodging hard questions.”

Claim

For a heartbeat, Martha just stared at me. And then, suddenly, wonderfully, she laughed. Real, full-bodied, warm laughter. The sound of it poured into the room like sunlight through shutters. I hadn’t heard that

from her ever.

We laughed together, and for a brief moment, the heaviness between us lifted. But when I looked at her again, really looked, I saw the truth buried beneath the joy. Her smile couldn’t hide the shadows in her

eyes.

“You need to come home, Martha,” I said softly, gently, like I was coaxing a frightened bird. “He’s not okay. He’s unravelling without you.”

Her laughter stilled. The light in her face dimmed, as though a cloud had passed across the sun.

“I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Not yet.”

Her voice quivered, but her resolve was iron.

“I can’t deal with the jealousy… the biting comments. The way he makes me feel small. It’s only been three months, Mara, but in those three months, I built confidence I never thought I’d have. I started discovering who I am outside of being someone’s afterthought.”

Her eyes filled, glassy with tears that threatened to spill.

“I still yearn for him. I do,” she confessed, her words breaking. “But I can’t go back to that life. Not unless

it’s different. Not unless he is.”

I sat in silence, my chest heavy, my heart torn between empathy and the ache of knowing Vander’s

suffering.

“You’re lucky, Mara,” she added after a pause, her voice trembling but steady enough to carry the truth.” You mean the world to Lucian. He loves you and respects you. Vander… he might think he loves me. But he’s never respected me. Not truly. And I can’t live like that anymore.”

Her tears slipped then, running in quiet streams down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away. She let them fall, as though she was done hiding what she felt.

I reached for her hand again, closing both of mine around it. We held on to each other, tethered in that fragile moment.

And I knew, knew with a clarity that settled like stone, that something had shifted. Not just in her, but in

the space between us.

She wasn’t just Martha anymore. She was finally becoming herself.