It was a great Saturday for Eva. She got happily dirty at Ida's stall, her hands and clothes smeared with grease as she "helped" with a few simple tasks. She then went on an eating spree with her ill-gotten thousand dollars, sampling every street food and sweet treat that caught her eye. To cap off the day, she joined a wild game of football with the little kids who played in the dusty lot just beside Ida's stall. By evening, when it was closing hour, she was a glorious mess. Her once-pink clothes had lost their color to a uniform shade of brown, streaked with dirt and grass stains that made Isa nod negatively. She spent the night at Ida's lone apartment behind the mechanic stall, and just as she had expected, no one from the Macmillian or Anderson households reached out to her. She had seen her sister's social media status, celebrating a new milestone in her career, complete with a picture of her with her loving boyfriend, Richard. The post contained an obvious jab at Eva with a condescending quote about "rising above dead weight," and with a bored expression, Eva labeled them clowns.
The following day should have been just like any typical, casual Sunday—a day of great relaxation—except that Eva was spending it with Ida, and the relaxed atmosphere persisted until that afternoon. Ida was busy under the hood of a sedan, fixing an engine issue with a couple of her apprentices surrounding her, handing her tools and watching her every move with great attention. The steady clang of metal and Ida's low, instructive voice filled the air. Then, one of her younger workers hurried in, his eyes wide.
"Boss," he said, a little breathless and eyes filled with admiration. "There's a... a luxury car outside. A Bentley."
Ida paused, the wrench in her hand stilling. She furrowed her brows. Though she was a skilled and respected mechanic in her part of the city, she was still a girl from the lower class, and vehicles of that caliber hardly ever found their way to her stall. This was a little surprising, though she didn't think much of it, assuming it was a lost driver or perhaps a client sent by a rare wealthy contact. She wiped her hands on a greasy rag, handed the wrench to an apprentice, and walked out of the stall into the bright afternoon sun.
And indeed, there it was: a sleek, obsidian Bentley, looking utterly out of place amidst the dust and decay, parked directly in front of her stall. But it was the man leaning against it that made her steps falter. It was 6th, Anderson. Jervis Anderson. He wore frameless glasses that only served to sharpen his already devastatingly handsome features, giving him a deceptively intellectual air. But to Ida, or to anyone who knew his reputation, he would always remain the dangerous man from the rumors. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she walked closer, finally stopping a few meters away from him, her posture guarded.
"How can I help you, sir?" she asked, her voice steady despite the unease coiling in her stomach
He replied calmly. "I came to get my wife. Eva."
This made Ida frown. How could he suddenly just accept Eva as his wife? Something was definitely fishy, and a protective instinct surged within her. She didn't want to know the details; she just wanted to shield Eva. "She is not here, sir," she said, the lie coming easily.
"It would do both of us a great deal of good if you provided her to me peacefully," he said. His voice was still calm, but she sensed an underlying threat woven through every syllable.
Just at that moment, the side door of the stall burst open, and Eva hurried out, her face bright with so much excitement she was practically vibrating. She was clutching a large frog in her cupped hands. "Ida! I finally caught one! I caught the big one from behind the..."
Her words disappeared into the air, swallowed by the sudden, frozen silence as her eyes landed on Jervis. Her excitement vanished, replaced by pure, feigned terror. She immediately dropped the frog and scrambled behind Ida, clutching at her friend's uniform tightly.
"Please don't kill me, 6th Sir! I didn't mean to leave the house!" She cried as she buried her face in Ida's back, her shoulders shaking with manufactured sobs.
Jervis's lips twitched, the barest hint of a reaction. He had never killed anyone, at least not anyone innocent. Though his methods could be extreme, and he had certainly caused near-death traumas to those he couldn't stand, that didn't mean he would do the same to a girl with, by all accounts, the brain of a child. After she had disappeared, he had looked into her and realized what she said was true; she was indeed a McMillan, and according to his findings, she was very naive and foolish, to the point of being married off by her family and coerced into living with a stranger without understanding the implications. He didn't want to get married because of his job—not teaching, but something far different and more demanding—and being emotionally attached was a significant distraction he couldn't afford. He didn't want to love anyone, and he didn't want anyone to love him either. This simple-minded girl might just be the perfect wife his family had found to fulfill these conditions; he could just treat her like a troublesome child.
"Come on, I won't kill you," he said, his tone weary, as if addressing a misbehaving toddler.
But Eva's wide, watery eyes, peeking over Ida's shoulder, screamed that she didn't believe him at all. He finally lost his patience. He walked forward in two long strides, deftly dodged Ida's protective stance, yanked Eva by the arm, and in one fluid motion, threw her over his shoulder. He didn't even flinch at the state of her dirty clothes.
"Bury me in a pink coffin, Ida, babe! And bury me under water so I would be a mermaid in my next life!" She cried out to her friend, her voice laced with dramatic despair as she dangled over his shoulder.
Ida almost rolled her eyes at the theatrics, but her concern was real. "Please, Sir, spare her. She's only a child," Ida pleaded with Jervis, her voice tight with genuine worry.
Without even glancing back at her, he replied flatly, "I won't." He unceremoniously deposited the squirming, crying Eva into the passenger seat of the Bentley, buckled her in, got in himself, and drove away, leaving Ida standing alone in the dust as she watched the car disappear.