The Devil’s Priceless Possession

The club was quiet at last. The flashing lights had stopped, the music had faded into silence, and the strippers had gone home or upstairs to rest, Mariselle did not know, and she did not f*****g care, she had had enough for the night. She sat alone at the back office, her eyes fixed on the thick ledger open in front of her. Her fingers moved slowly, tracing the figures, double-checking the sums. A dull ache pulsed at the base of her skull, but she ignored it. She rubbed her stomach gently with one hand, then reached for her pencil with the other. The baby hadn’t kicked tonight. Perhaps it was just tired, like her. Or maybe it didn’t like all the noise and smoke. She tried not to worry. She knew if she as much as tried to show a bit of discomfort, Lucia would relegate her to an idle room with boring children toys to rest, she did not want that. A soft knock came at the door before it creaked open. Speak of the devil, and the devil appears, Lucia stepped in, holding a cup of warm tea in one hand and a folded shawl in the other. “Still at it?” she asked, her voice soft and motherly. Mariselle didn’t look up. “Yes. I need to finish these before morning. Sir Manuel wants the numbers early. You know how he gets when the accounts are not in order.” Lucia frowned and set the tea down on the desk beside her. “He’ll still be angry even if you hand him gold bars wrapped in fine linen, my child,” she muttered. “Come now, Mariselle. You shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this.” “I’m fine,” Mariselle said, but her voice lacked strength. She was obviously exhausted. Lucia didn’t believe her, of course. She came around the desk, gently pulled the pencil from Mariselle’s fingers, and took the ledger from under her hands. “You’re not fine. You’re pale, your hands are shaking, and you’ve been on your feet all evening.” Mariselle looked up at her then, her eyes heavy. “It has to be done. Manuel won’t accept mistakes. If something’s off, he’ll get into trouble like he warned the last night.” Lucia placed the shawl over her shoulders and sat beside her. “And what happens if you make yourself ill? Or lose the baby?” Mariselle’s face fell, her lips tightening. “My baby will be fine Ma’am Lucia,” she whispered. “Your husband is already going through a lot. If something happens to him with his boss, I won’t forgive myself, moreover he has been under so much pressure lately.” The older woman reached out, taking Mariselle’s hand gently. “I’m sure my husband appreciates, but what we won’t do is let you stress that little bundle of joy growing inside you, we’re not letting anything happen to you, love. Or the baby. You’ve already done enough for the day. Let me handle the books tonight. You go lie down.” “I can’t sleep,” Mariselle said after a pause. “Every time I close my eyes, I see… things. Hear things. I need the numbers. They keep my mind still.” Lucia sighed and stood up, pacing slowly to the door, then back again. “You remind me so much of my younger sister. Always carrying trying to take care of everybody, even when no one asked her to. She burned herself out before she even turned thirty. Nobody knew she had her own personal struggle till she died of cervical cancer” Mariselle gave a weak smile. “Sounds like me. But I’m not dying anytime soon.” Lucia looked at her with warm but firm eyes. “No. You’re stronger than that. But strength doesn’t mean doing everything alone.” Mariselle stared at the ledger, the pages full of numbers, notes, and symbols only she and Manuel really understood. It felt like she could handle a few more ledgers. But she also knew the truth: she was tired. Deep in her bones, aching tired. Her belly was heavier than last week. Her ankles had begun to swell. The baby wasn’t due for months, but the stress was already sinking into her body like poison. “I don’t know how to stop,” she said quietly. “If I stop moving, I feel like I’ll loose my goddamn mind.” Lucia knelt beside her chair and placed a hand on her stomach. “Then lean on someone else for a bit. That’s what family does. Let me do this. I’ve done accounts longer than you’ve been here, you know.” Mariselle let out a small laugh. “But you hate maths.” Lucia gave her a playful look. “I do. But I love you more than I hate numbers.” That broke something in Mariselle. A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away. It was the first kind word she’d heard in days. “Thank you,” she whispered. Lucia stood and carefully pulled the chair back. “Up you get. I’ll finish the books. You go put your feet up. I’ll bring you that peppermint oil for your legs.” “I don’t deserve you,” Mariselle murmured as she stood slowly. “No, you don’t,” Lucia teased, “but I’m here anyway.” They both smiled, and for a moment, nothing else mattered, not even the world outside that office, that too didn’t exist. As Mariselle stepped out of the office, she paused in the hallway. The club smelled like cheap perfume and cigarette smoke. But this was her home now, regardless. Not the kind she had been born into, but the one she had chosen, despite the madness around it. Lucia and Manuel had been kind to her since the day she came begging for their help. She turned back one last time. “If you get stuck, the cash drawer figures are in the red notebook. Middle drawer.” Lucia waved her off. “Go on, before I smack you with it.” Mariselle chuckled softly and walked away, slower now, with one hand resting over her small stomach. If there was anything she loved about her pregnancy was that she didn’t look it. The baby hadn’t kicked still, but she hoped it was listening. That somewhere deep inside, it knew that someone still cared. That in this cruel world, a bit of love still survived. Back in the office, Lucia opened the ledger and squinted at the numbers. Mariselle returned quietly, about some minutes later, her bare feet padding softly on the floor. Mariselle loved, truly loved that the club was going to be still and silent for the next twelve to sixteen hours at least, the only sound she could hear was the faint murmuring sounds from the old fridge in the hallway. She stopped at the office door, leaning against the frame. “I can’t rest even if I wanted to,” she said gently. Lucia looked up from the ledger, her glasses sliding down her nose. “I thought I told you to rest, love.” “I know,” Mariselle said, stepping in slowly. “But lying down made it worse. My thoughts just kept racing. I’d rather be here. Helping.” Lucia crossed her arms. “If my husband finds out I let you touch this ledger again tonight, he’ll give me an earful.” Mariselle smiled faintly. “We’ll tell him I forced you.” Lucia gave her a mock glare, then sighed and scooted over. “Fine. But we’re doing it together. No more you doing everything alone, alright?” Mariselle nodded and sat down beside her, pulling the red notebook from the drawer. “Alright.” For a while, the two worked in silence, flipping pages, jotting down numbers, making small calculations. Lucia hummed softly under her breath an old gospel tune that somehow reminded Mariselle of her childhood. But suddenly, Mariselle froze, her pencil hovering above the paper. Her eyes blurred, and a lump formed in her throat. She dropped the pencil, covering her face with both hands. Lucia turned to her, worried. “Did I say something wrong?” Mariselle shook her head, tears escaping through her fingers. “No,” she choked. “You didn’t say anything wrong at all.” Lucia moved closer, gently touching her back. “Then what is it, sweetheart?” Still covering her face, Mariselle spoke between quiet sobs. “I miss my Mum a lot. Since my mum died, no one’s cared for me like this. No one’s been... kind. Not like you.” Lucia’s hand stilled. She blinked slowly, her voice softening. “Oh, my poor girl…” “I miss her so much,” Mariselle went on, her voice shaking. “And I miss having someone to talk to, someone to help me when things feel too heavy. Since she passed, it’s just been coldness. Silence. My sisters, Miranda and the little one, they stopped writing to me for over six months now. My dad disowned me.” Lucia’s eyes filled with sadness, and she gently pulled Mariselle into her arms. “So, no. I’m not in touch with any of them,” Mariselle continued. “I don’t even know if they’re fine. The only family I have now is you… your husband… and this baby growing inside me.” Lucia held her tighter, running a hand over her hair. “Then that’s enough,” she said firmly. “And maybe, just maybe, the reason I never got to have children of my own was because God wanted me to be your mum. And a grandmother to that sweet baby of yours.” Mariselle looked up at her, eyes still wet. “You mean that?” “With all my heart,” Lucia said, cupping her cheek. “I promise, I’ll take care of both of you like you were mine from the very start.” Mariselle broke into soft, grateful sobs, burying her face in the woman’s shoulder. The office felt warm, safe even with the shadows lurking outside. For the first time in months, Mariselle allowed herself to feel something close to peace. Then, the peace shattered. The door burst open with a violent bang. Gunshots rang through the air like thunderclaps. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bullets tore through the ceiling and walls, sparks flying, plaster raining down like chaos running through a water path. Both women screamed and ducked low. Twelve armed men stormed in, their faces covered with black masks, rifles raised and fingers twitching on triggers. Lucia stood quickly, placing herself in front of Mariselle, arms wide. “What the f**k is going on? Manuel is not around! How did you get in, Leave us alone!” she shouted. One of the men shoved her back with the butt of his gun. “Shut up, old woman!” Mariselle, shaking but furious, pushed herself up. “Jeez!! What do you want from us?! Why are you doing this?” The man turned sharply, stepping forward. “I said, shut it!” he barked and slapped her hard across the face. Her head whipped to the side, the sting burning deep. The room spun. Her knees buckled. Everything went black.