THE FALSE SAVIOR

The smell of bleach never really left the servants' rooms at the back of the Cross Manor. It stuck to the damp walls, soaked into my faded uniform, and stayed in the back of my throat. For seven years, that sharp chemical smell was my daily reality. It was a constant reminder of the day my life fell apart and the woman who pretended to save me.

I was fourteen when my parents died. Their car skidded off the wet road during a storm and fell into the river. I still remember the red police lights, the cold rain on my skin, and the sudden realization that I was all alone in the world.

In my worst moment, Victoria Cross showed up like an angel. She was a business friend of my mother. She wore expensive silk clothes, held my shaking hands at the funeral, and promised to take care of me. She called herself my savior and my new mother.

It took less than six months to see her true colors.

"Lyra! You missed a spot on the table! Are you stupid?"

Victoria’s loud voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I flinched and quickly knelt lower on the polished wooden floor. At twenty-one, I was no longer that scared little kid crying in the corner. I was thin and tired from years of hard work, but I was smart and also strong on the inside.

"I’m sorry, Mrs. Cross," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the floor. "I’ll clean it again right away."

"You better," she snapped, pacing across the room in her high heels. "I have important guests coming tonight. I won't let you ruin my home. You owe me everything, Lyra. Don't you ever forget who took you in when you had nothing."

You took my money, too, I thought bitterly, but I kept my mouth shut.

After my parents died, the money they left for me mysteriously vanished. Victoria’s lawyers said it went to "expenses for my parents' funeral and paying off my parents debt." She stole my future, turned me into an unpaid maid, and made me work from morning till night just to earn a small meal and a thin blanket.

By nine o'clock that evening, the grand dining hall was lit up for dinner. Victoria sat at the end of the table, drinking red wine. Her face was pale, and her fingers kept tapping nervously against her glass. She kept looking at her watch like she was expecting bad news.

I stood quietly by the kitchen door, holding a heavy silver tray and waiting for her to send me away. My back was aching, and my hands were raw from scrubbing dishes all day, and my stomach was humming to the tune of hunger.

Suddenly, the heavy front doors banged open. Cold air rushed into the hall, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.

Victoria jumped up from her chair, completely losing her cool demeanor. "Ah... Mr. Vance. You're early."

Two big men in dark suits walked in first, followed by a man who made the whole room feel suddenly cold. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself like someone who owned everything he looked at. He had dark hair, a sharp jawline, and eyes as dark and cold as night. He wore an expensive dark suit that made him look dangerous and powerful.

He didn't look like a normal businessman. He looked like a Mafia boss that you should never cross paths with.

"Waiting is not my favourite hobby, Victoria," the man yelled. His deep voice echoed through the quiet hall. "And my father doesn't like late payments."

Victoria swallowed hard, her hand shaking. "Of course, Dante. I understand. Things have been difficult lately. Just give me two more weeks"

"Two weeks?" Dante Valerius stepped closer. "We gave you three months. The Valerius family does not give out free passes. You owe four million dollars, Victoria. You are paying tonight."

The Valerius family.

My blood ran cold. Even locked away in this house, I knew that name. The Valerius family ran the biggest crime syndicate in the city. They controlled the ports, the buildings, and the streets. And the young man standing in the hallway was Dante Valerius, the heir to that dangerous empire.

"I have this house!" Victoria begged, her voice high and desperate. "I have expensive paintings!"

"The house belongs to the bank, and the paintings are fake," Dante said calmly, taking another step toward her. "You have nothing worth four million dollars."

Panic filled Victoria's face. She looked around the room like a trapped animal until her eyes landed on me, standing near the kitchen door.

A disgusting, greedy look came over her face.

"Wait... there is one thing," Victoria said, pointing her finger right at me. "She has no one to look for her. Her parents died years ago, and I have all her papers. She's young, healthy, beautiful, and completely off the grid. Take her. Make her work for you, sell her, do whatever you want, just clear my debt."

My heart stopped. The heavy silver tray slipped from my numb fingers and crashed onto the floor with a loud noise.

Victoria turned around and glared at me. "You clumsy fool! Look what you did!" She marched over and raised her hand to slap me across the face. "You useless leech!"

I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the blow.

It never came.

"Touch her again," a cold voice said right next to me, "and I will break your hand."

I opened my eyes. Dante Valerius was standing right in front of me. His big hand was locked tightly around Victoria’s wrist, stopping her arm in mid air.

Slowly, Dante looked down at me. For a second, the cold look in his dark eyes changed as he saw my pale face, the bruises on my arms, and the quiet anger in my eyes.

He let go of Victoria, pushing her back until she hit the wall. Then, without taking his eyes off me, Dante reached into his coat, pulled out a checkbook, and wrote a quick check.

He threw the paper onto the table.

"Your debt is paid, Victoria," Dante said, his voice quiet and deadly. "Pack her things. She is coming with me tonight."