Leah Jason

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Inside Grayson’s room, he walked out of the bathroom in a bathrobe, using a towel to dry his hair.

He moved toward the bed and noticed Emma was no longer in the room.

"Hah… She knows her place," Grayson snorted, then tapped a button near the bed. A bell rang, and a servant quickly entered.

"Young Master," the servant said, bowing slightly.

"Get a new bedsheet and change this one," Grayson ordered.

"Yes, Young Master," the servant replied, bowing again before leaving to fetch fresh sheets.

Grayson changed into his pajamas and walked into the study in his room to handle some important work matters. By the time he finished and returned, the bed had already been made with clean sheets. He climbed into it and closed his eyes to rest.

…

"You wretched girl, come out of your room now! Why are you still in bed?" a sharp voice shouted outside Emma’s door, followed by a loud bang. Emma jolted awake from her sleep because of the noise.

She rushed to the door and opened it, only to be met with a harsh slap. A red palm print quickly appeared on her fair cheek.

"Hey, you slut. Do you think you're in your father's house? Why are you still sleeping in?" Butler Harry stood at the door, scolding her harshly.

"I’m sorry," Emma apologized quickly.

"What are you sorry for? Get out of my sight and go prepare breakfast. The Young Master and Miss Leah are still waiting!" he barked.

"Okay," Emma replied, head lowered, as she turned and walked toward the kitchen. Unbeknownst to her, Butler Harry watched her retreating figure with a look of twisted desire.

Although Emma was thin from malnutrition, her curves still showed. The butler leered at her for a moment, then muttered under his breath, "No wonder the Young Master’s been using her for so long and still isn’t tired."

After that, he followed her into the kitchen.

At the dining table, a young woman in her early twenties sat gracefully. She was beautiful and carried herself like someone well-educated and refined. She waited patiently, clearly expecting someone to join her.

This woman was one of Grayson’s childhood friends—Leah Jason, the Young Miss of the Jason Family.

She was still seated at the dining table when she saw Emma walking up the stairs.

"Hey, Emma, are you taking Grayson his morning coffee?" Leah asked, eyeing the cup in Emma’s hand.

Emma turned, gave a small nod, and continued her way upstairs. She was halfway up when Leah’s voice called out again.

"Emma, let me help you deliver the coffee. You can go and do other things," Leah offered, stretching out her hand.

Emma hesitated for a moment before handing the cup to her. But as Leah reached out, she slipped and stumbled toward Emma. The hot coffee jolted in the cup. Reacting quickly, Emma turned the cup toward herself to shield Leah, but a splash still landed on Leah’s right hand.

"Ahhh… my hand!" Leah screamed, rubbing it instinctively, though the pain only worsened.

"Don’t rub it! Don’t!" Emma panicked. "You’ll make it scar…"

She was still speaking when a sharp voice cut through the air behind her.

"What are you doing?" Grayson’s sharp voice rang out.

"I didn’t do anything—she slipped and the coffee spilled on her. It’s not my fault, please. I’m sorry," Emma explained quickly, her voice trembling. But Grayson didn’t listen. Without a word, he stormed toward her and shoved her violently.

Emma wasn’t prepared for the push. She tumbled down the staircase from the top, her body crashing onto the floor below.

"Ahh!" she cried out, her voice cracking from the pain. It was unbearable—sharp, burning pain radiated through her limbs.

Emma lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, every nerve in her body screaming in pain. Her abdomen, legs, and arm throbbed, but all she could do was grit her teeth and stay quiet.

"Are you okay?" Grayson didn’t even glance at Emma. His concern was directed at Leah, who stood nursing her scalded hand.

"I’m fine, Grayson. You don’t have to worry," Leah assured him, then turned her eyes to Emma. "Emma, I’m sorry. He didn’t mean to push you. He just cares about me a lot." 

Emma, despite the agony surging through her, managed to lift her head and meet Grayson’s eyes. Her voice was calm, almost robotic.

"Young Master, your coffee spilled. I’ll prepare a new one and bring it to you." She gave a small bow before slowly limping toward the kitchen.

"Harry, get some ointment and apply it on Miss Leah’s hand," Grayson ordered, brushing past Leah as he made his way to the dining room.

Leah watched him leave without even a glance in her direction. Her expression twisted with frustration as she clenched her jaw and followed him downstairs.