“Leonie’s account must have been hacked by this bitch,” writes another, “Damn, how can she be so cheeky? She’s shameless even when she tries to fix her image.”
“Maybe she has some sort of dirt on Leonie,” writes another, “Leonie must have been threatened.”
All of the comments have the same incredulous tone; no one believes that Leilani is innocent.
Leilani heads downstairs to the kitchen. She doesn’t care what people believe, nor does she want to explain herself to anyone. She wanted to make Leonie apologize as a power play; she doesn’t care what people actually think or say about her.
“How petty they all are!” she thinks, “They claim to care about Leonie, but they’re just hungry for more gossip.”
Leilani starts to close the app, but her phone beeps with new notification and a message appear on her screen: “You and Waylen Bamford are now friends on Facebook.”
She stops suddenly and the maid following her stops too.
“What does this mean?” Leilani thinks, “I’ve declined him many times.”
“It looks like Mr. Bamford can do whatever he wants,” Leilani says to herself with a sneer.
When Leilani received the friend request she was confused by the profile picture. Instead of Waylen or the company, the picture shows a distant girlish figure in pink. The girl stands under a big, weeping cherry tree and the wind swirls her skirt like the pink petals in the air. Leilani was surprised that this feminine profile picture belongs to her overbearing husband.
Leilani studies the picture more closely and she can’t shake the feeling that both the figure and the scene are familiar. She squints at the photo, but she can’t make out any helpful details. The toxin in her body has erased almost all of her memories from her life before Waylen. Based on the size of the girl and the dress she wears, Leilani guesses that she’s about ten years old.
“Why does it feel familiar?” she thinks, “Is the girl Leonie Summers?”
As she stands at the door of the kitchen staring at her phone, the maid doesn’t know whether she should pass Leilani or wait for her. In a low voice she interrupts Leilani’s reflection, “Mrs. Bamford, I will go ahead and request that the cooks prepare the kitchen for you.”
Leilani absently nodded her agreement without removing her eyes from the screen of her phone.
“Who is it?” she wonders.
Thinking too much about things she can’t remember makes her head in pain. She rubbed her temples and decides to delete Waylen from her friend list. To her surprise, she’s unable to remove him. She taps the screen over and over, but nothing happens.
“Is there something wrong with the app?” she wonders, “Or has Waylen somehow meddled with my account?”
The more she thinks about it, the more certain she becomes that Waylen has hacked her account. He’s forced her to accept his friend request and now found a way to prevent her from deleting him.
“What an asshole!” she says aloud.
Leilani idly leans against the doorframe and her long, slightly tangled hair falls her back. Unconsciously, she bites her lower lip with fury and faint teeth marks appear on her rosy lips.
She looks at the profile and finds nothing to reveal the girl in the photo’s identity. Thinking about the mystery photo reminds her of her profile, and she quickly navigates to her profile page. There are dozens of candid photos of Waylen. In these photos, Waylen is eating, frowning, staring, and sleeping.
Leilani remembers that she was obsessed with her husband in the early days of their marriage. She often took secret photos of him to look at by herself; she even snuck into his bedroom while he was sleeping to take the illicit photos. She scrolls through the pictures one by one and feels the shame rising in her throat.
“So this is how I saw him back then,” she thinks.
The photos capture the moments in which she found him most handsome or charming, but when she looks at them now she can’t see beyond his pride and arrogance. She deletes them one by one.
She doesn’t want Waylen to see how obsessed she was, and she’s scared of his rage if he sees the photos. She took all of the photos secretly as Waylen hates being photographed, and she posted them without his knowledge or permission. She recalls that a journalist once took photos of him secretly and was beaten mercilessly by a group of Waylen’s security guards.
At the Bamford Group, Waylen leans back in his black leather chair. He holds his cellphone in his hand and watches as every photo of him disappears from Leilani’s profile.
He had never thought to look at Leilani’s profile before and seeing so many photos of himself filled him with a strange and insuppressible happiness. Though her previous infatuation used to annoy him, he’s recently realized that he cares what she thinks about him. The candid photos on her profile reassured him that in spite of her recent ferociousness, she still has a soft spot for him. Then the photos disappear.
“What’s wrong with these photos?” Waylen asks.
“It looks like Mrs. Bamford took secret photos of you,” Robert stutters, “It was very audacious of her, but I urge you to show her some mercy. You were quite severe with that journalist, and I think such cruelty may be damaging to your marriage.”
“Did I ask for your advice?” Waylen growls, “I just want to know why the photos have disappeared.”
Robert swallows nervously. He looks at the screen again and clears his throat, “Umm, the photos may have been deleted.”
“Do you mean that she deleted my photos?”
Waylen slams the phone onto the table, almost cracking the screen.
“Maybe the IT team unintentionally deleted them when they added you to Mrs. Bamford’s friend list,” Robert suggests, trying to protect Leilani.
“Hmm, look into it,” Waylen commands, “If this is IT’s fault, I want you to fire the person responsible and the head of the department.”
“Got it,” Robert nods.
“Wait a minute.”
Robert freezes on the spot.
“The shadow of a shadow—the media likes that,” Waylen says cryptically, “One of Leilani’s most important responsibilities is protecting the reputation of the Bamford family. You know what to do about that.”
Robert nods again.
Back at the Bamford house, Leilani stands at the kitchen counter, illuminated by the light above the stove. Her hair is curled slightly from the heat, and she has it tucked behind her ears. With her head bent, she beats the eggs in a large bowl.
The cooks watch her from across the room amazed and confused. Although this is the first time that Mrs. Bamford has tried to make a quiche, it seems she has a talent for cooking. She makes the dough as if she’s a professional; crimping and pleating the crust as if the breakfast is a work of art. She chops the filling like a professional chef—each vegetable is evenly diced. She has refused their help, so they stand aside and watch her.
“Mrs. Bamford, you are very ingenious,” the cooks say, “The quiches you made are excellent.”
“Bring me a container,” Leilani demands.
She wants to store the extra quiche in the refrigerator. The cooks bring a glass container, and Leilani stores the extra food. Though the quiches are finished, a lot of extra filling remains and piles of vegetables and seafood sit on the counters.
“Mrs. Bamford, there’s a lot of leftover crabs,” one cook observes.
“Store them,” Leilani says calmly.
The cooks sigh. Leilani steamed way too much crab, and Mr. Bamford doesn’t particularly like it. It will probably go to waste.
Leilani finishes with the quiches and dusts the flour from her hands. She exits the kitchen and sees Robert Tinder approaching her.
“Mrs. Bamford,” he greets her.
“What’s wrong?” Leilani asks, subconsciously checking behind him to see if Lance is there. He’s not.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
Leave a Reply