Lydia's Dirty Tricks

Stella hit the unforgiving floor with a heavy, sickening thud, her small body sliding a few inches against the polished hardwood. Before the tiny girl could even process the shock of the impact, Lydia lunged forward. Her expression instantly morphed into a mask of frantic, desperate concern. She dropped to her knees beside the child, her voice echoing with manufactured panic.

"Stella! Oh my god, are you alright?" Lydia cried out, wrapping an arm around the shivering toddler. She looked up at Weston, who was standing in the doorway, then looked back down at her daughter. "Sweetheart, you want Wes to stay, don't you? You don't want him to leave?"

Hidden from Weston's line of sight, Lydia’s manicured fingers slipped under the hem of Stella’s shirt. She found the tender flesh of the three-year-old’s delicate waist and pinched down with ruthless force. She twisted the skin tight until a sharp, blooming pain radiated through the toddler's small frame.

Stella choked on a gasp, tears welling in her wide eyes. She kept her head lowered, too terrified to even glance in Weston's direction. Her silence earned her another vicious pinch from Lydia, the sting so agonizing it forced the trembling girl into action. Stella reached out, her shaking fingers desperately grabbing onto the cuff of Weston's tailored sleeve. She held on for dear life, knowing from brutal experience that as long as she anchored herself to him, the hidden torture would stop.

"Wes, look at her," Lydia sobbed, her voice breaking with practiced perfection. "Stella is terrified of that scumbag. Her biological father abused us so badly, she won't get close to any other man except you. She desperately needs you. The doctor said being with someone she feels safe with is the only thing that will help her get better."

Weston stared down at the small hand clinging to his sleeve. His heart ached profoundly for the shivering three-year-old. He thought about the trauma a child that young must carry, having watched her father beat her mother. He figured if his presence could improve Stella's condition even a little bit, it might make things easier for Lydia in the long run. He felt his remaining frustration melt away and immediately softened, leaning down to scoop the toddler into his arms.

Stella had rarely been held this high off the ground. Fear gripped her chest, and she instantly wrapped her arms tightly around Weston’s neck, burying her face into his collar.

"It’s okay. There, there," Weston murmured, gently rubbing her back. He offered her a warm, reassuring smile. "Let's go out and get something to eat, okay?"

Lydia sniffled, wiping at her dry eyes before standing up. "Thank you. Let me just get her changed. Wait for us in the living room."

She reached out and took Stella from his arms. Weston nodded, stepping out of the bedroom. The heavy wooden door pulled shut behind him with a firm click.

The exact second the latch caught, Lydia's worried, maternal mask vanished without a trace. Her features hardened into a cold, menacing glare. She stepped close to the shivering child, leaning down until they were eye to eye.

"Listen to me," Lydia hissed, her voice a venomous whisper. "You better make sure Weston stays the night. Got it?"

Stella trembled from head to toe, shrinking back as she gave a frantic, tiny nod.

After a quiet dinner, Weston drove them back to the apartment. Just as they walked through the front door, his phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket, his brow furrowing as he answered a call from a colleague at the firm. They had just uncovered new, time-sensitive evidence for a major case he was handling.

Weston ended the call and turned to Lydia. "The law firm needs me. I have to go handle something right now."

Lydia’s smile froze. Arrogance and suspicion boiled in her mind. She figured the law firm never needed him at such convenient hours. She assumed he was just using work as a thin excuse to rush out and comfort his runaway wife, Sutton. Does he think I'm stupid? she thought, her teeth grinding together.

"Now? Can't it wait?" Lydia asked, forcing a gentle, understanding tone.

"No, I have to go," Weston replied briefly.

By the time Lydia snapped out of her internal rage, Weston was already out the door. The heavy front door clicked shut, sealing the apartment in a sudden, suffocating silence.

Lydia stood perfectly still in the foyer for three seconds before the dam broke. She whirled around to face Stella.

"You idiot!" Lydia snarled, her voice echoing sharply against the walls. "What did I teach you?"

Stella backed away, her small lips trembling. She was too terrified to make a single sound, her back hitting the hallway wall.

In a fit of unrestrained rage, Lydia lunged forward. She swung her leg and viciously kicked the tiny girl squarely in the stomach. Stella gasped, her feet flying out from under her as she crashed hard onto the floorboards. Before the toddler could even catch her breath to cry, Lydia reached down and grabbed her roughly by the legs.

Lydia brutally dragged the crying girl across the carpet by her ankles, hauling her straight into the bedroom. Stella’s small hands scrambled against the floor, trying to find purchase, but Lydia’s grip was unyielding. Once inside the room, Lydia yanked open the nightstand drawer. Her eyes darted around frantically. Failing to find a sewing needle, her fingers landed on a small plastic container. She yanked it out, grabbing a sharp handful of wooden toothpicks.

Lydia threw the child face-down onto the rug, pinning Stella’s back with her knee. With absolute ruthlessness, Lydia raised her hand and violently jabbed the cluster of sharp wooden points directly into the child's butt.

Stella let out an agonizing, ear-piercing scream. Her small body thrashed in pure torment, the sharp stings digging deep into her tender flesh.

"Shut up!" Lydia fiercely hissed, driving another toothpick directly into the skin. "Try making a sound, and you won't get a single bite of food for three full days! Do you hear me?"

By the time Weston finished his emergency work and drove back to his own house, the digital clock on his dashboard read almost 1:00 a.m. He dragged his exhausted body up the front steps, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

He flipped the light switch. The house remained dark, quiet, and entirely empty.

Weston stood in the foyer, loosening his tie as a wave of profound irritation washed over him. He scoffed inwardly. He had assumed Sutton would be waiting here, ready to apologize or at least demand an explanation for their earlier argument. The fact that she was continuing her rebellious absence grated on his nerves. I only had a few words with her, he thought bitterly, and she doesn't even come home? I really shouldn't have been so nice to her. She doesn't even know her place now.

He walked into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of cold water. He leaned against the marble counter, arrogant confidence settling over his irritation.

Sutton was a mere orphan. She had no one else to rely on in the massive, unforgiving city of Steelmont. Every dime she spent, every meal she ate, and the very roof over her head had always been provided by him. She didn't have a wealthy family to run back to, and she lacked the resources to survive on her own. He drank the water, foolishly assuring himself of the inevitable outcome. She was just throwing a tantrum. Once reality hit her, she would break. Within three days, she would be crawling back to him, begging for his forgiveness.

The next morning, the bustling environment of the law firm was alive with whispers. Sutton's sudden disappearance dominated the office gossip.

Sienna leaned back in her ergonomic chair, sipping her iced coffee as she spun around to face her coworker. "Justine, do you think Sutton has completely lost her mind?" Sienna mocked loudly. "Mr. Hayes just forgave her, and now she's throwing a tantrum again. Since she's out of work, she could just be a full-time housewife. I can't believe she chose to run away. Let's see how long she lasts before she regrets it."

Sienna scoffed, championing Weston's elite background. Sutton was pretty, sure, but she was broke and lacked family connections. Weston had it all. His father was a powerhouse, his mother ran high society circles, and his brother married into political power. If it weren't for Weston's family issues, he never would have married someone like Sutton. Sienna sighed wistfully. Lydia was the proper choice. She was graceful, beautiful, and gentle.

Justine kept her eyes glued to her paperwork, her jaw tight. Having worked closely with Sutton, she liked her bright and lively personality. Justine silently sympathized with her. From her perspective, sending a devoted wife to Elmridge Mental Hospital just to appease another woman crossed an unforgivable line. Justine quietly judged Weston's increasingly messy personal life. If her own husband dared to pull a stunt like that, she would storm his workplace and drag his name through the mud.

Before Justine could respond, the elevator doors chimed open.

Lydia stepped out into the lobby. Her makeup was flawless, hiding the monster that had tortured a child just hours prior. She wore a tailored dress, her hips swaying gracefully in a calculated walk. She approached the desks, flashing a bright, innocent smile at Sienna and Justine.

"Hi, Sienna. Hi, Justine," Lydia greeted loudly, ensuring anyone nearby could hear her. "Is Weston in his office yet? He left something at mine last night, and I really need to give it back."

She intentionally and maliciously emphasized the words, planting the clear implication that they had spent the entire night sleeping together.

Sienna immediately stood up, practically beaming as she linked her arm with Lydia’s. "Oh, I was wondering why Sutton ran off. She’s probably still acting high and mighty somewhere, waiting for Mr. Hayes to beg her to come back."

"What?" Lydia gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. She feigned deep shock, her face twisting into a picture of crushing guilt. Her wide eyes instantly filled with crocodile tears. "Sutton ran away? I didn't mean to break Weston's favorite figurine. My hand wasn't even useless. There was no need for Weston to make Sutton apologize to me."

Sienna raised her voice slightly. "Lydie, you're so generous to others but so cruel to yourself."

Lydia bit her trembling lip, letting a single tear slip down her cheek. "If it weren't for Stella, I would have never come back with Weston. Stella is only three and a half, and she tragically suffers from autism. I... I..." Her voice choked up, heavy with manufactured sorrow.

Sienna eagerly swooped in to comfort her, patting her shoulder. "Don't let it get to you. Sutton is just acting tough. Give her three days, and she'll come back herself. She can't even make a living in Steelmont on her own."

Meanwhile, Justine sat in silence, silently glaring at the display. She harshly judged Lydia for shamelessly clinging to a married man and actively ruining a functional marriage. Before Lydia arrived, Sutton had worked hard and made Weston lunch every day. The fake tears were an insulting performance.

Later that afternoon, the glass doors to the firm swung open. Weston officially arrived, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with his colleague, Declan.

"Mr. Hayes," Declan asked casually as they walked past the reception desk. "Is Ms. Stafford starting her work at the firm today?"

"Yeah," Weston firmly confirmed. He checked his watch, his mind drifting back to the morning.

Deep in his own mind, Weston casually and coldly dismissed the damning photos Sutton had sent him the previous day. The images clearly showed her new house completely ruined—walls defaced and items trashed. But Weston stubbornly refused to assign any real blame. He blindly convinced himself that it was just a minor mess made by an innocent autistic child. Stella had special needs, and he stubbornly refused to take away her supposed right to draw on the walls to express herself.