Chapter 3: The Broken King

Kiran’s POV

The glass shards of the teacup were still scattered on the floor, glinting like jagged diamonds under the harsh kitchen spotlights. 

I leaned against the counter, watching her—Clara—scramble to pick them up. 

Her small hands were shaking so violently I could hear the porcelain clicking against the tile.

I should have felt a flicker of guilt, but honestly? It was interesting.

 My life was a monotonous cycle of cold boardrooms and the chemical haze of drugs. 

This "little rat" my aunt had dropped into my house was the first thing in months that actually made me feel... awake.

The Next Morning

I woke up with the familiar, dull throb behind my eyes. 

I knew the rat would be in the kitchen, probably terrified to breathe the same air as me.

 I wanted to break her spirit today. I wanted her to work until she realized that begging me for mercy was her only option. 

I wasn't going to the office—at least not yet. It was the perfect time to play with my new toy.

As I sat in the high-backed velvet chair in the parlor, she appeared. 

She was moving quietly, like she was trying to blend into the wallpaper.

 She set my coffee down with trembling fingers. I noticed a small adhesive plaster wrapped around her thumb—likely from the glass I’d shattered yesterday.

I didn't care.

"Make my breakfast," I said, my voice cutting through the silence.

She froze, her eyes widening in genuine shock. "Sir?"

"Are you deaf? i said you should make my food."

"I... I’m sorry, sir," she stammered, her voice a tiny squeak.

 "It’s just... the head maid usually handles your meals."

"Starting today, you do everything," I stood up, looming over her until she had to tilt her head back.

 "You cook. You clean. You polish my shoes—every single pair. You arrange my room. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, sir," she replied quickly, her head dropping. "What would you like me to cook?"

"I don't know. Anything you know. will satisfy me." i said to her.

I watched her retreat into the kitchen. 

From my seat, I could see her through the archway. 

She was wandering around the stove looking utterly lost, like a child who had wandered into a laboratory.

 I began to wonder if she even knew how to boil water.

"Little rat!" I called out.

Silence.

"Little rat!" I bellowed, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.

She practically leaped out of her skin, sprinting into the parlor.

 Her eyes were darting around the floor, panicked. "Are you... are you looking for a rat, sir?"

I stared at her, my mouth set in a hard, cold line. It was hilarious, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a smile. "You are the rat I’m calling."

Her face fell, a small pout forming on her lips. "But my name isn't Rat. It’s Clara," she whispered in a tiny, defiant voice.

"I don't care about your name. You’re 'Rat' to me. 

can you cook?" i asked 

She hesitated, her eyes flickering toward the kitchen. "Yes," she finally said.

"okay. What are you making?"

"Fried noodles and eggs, sir." she murmured, keeping her eyes on the floor.

I waved her away.

 A few minutes later, she returned with a plate. 

It looked... uninspired. Unattractive. I looked at the steam rising from it and felt a surge of suspicion. 

"Taste it," I commanded.

She took a bite. Her expression was a blank mask, unreadable.

"How is it?" i asked, watching her closely.

"It’s... okay," she said, her fingers tangling together behind her back.

"I took a bite from the noodles."

 I nearly spat it out. It was an assault on my senses—too much pepper, enough salt to preserve a corpse, and a strange, bitter aftertaste.

"What is this?" I hissed, slamming the fork down. "Is this some kind of payback? Are you trying to poison me?"

She dropped to her knees instantly, her forehead nearly touching the floor. "No! I swear! I just... I hardly ever cook at home. I’m always working."

"but I asked you if you could cook! You said yes!" I spat, shoving the plate away in disgust.

"I said yes because I thought I could make it well!" she said, her voice muffled by the floor. "And I was scared to say no to you!"

Before I could tear into her further, my phone screamed in my pocket. Trouble at the hotel sir. my worker said 

 I stood up, my jaw tight with a new kind of rage, and walked away, leaving her kneeling.

The drive to the hotel didn't calm me. 

When I reached my office, I found the door open. 

It was leo my aunt’s son. Sitting in my chair, with his feet on my desk, 

"Long time no see, brother," Leo smirked, swiveling the chair around.

"What are you doing here, Leo?" I asked. I didn't hide the venom in my voice.

"Grandpa kicked me out of the other quarter, but he made you CEO of the three hotels?" 

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I’m not back to cause trouble, Kiran. I’m back to take your seat."

He stood up, walking toward me until we were chest to chest. 

"Enjoy this while you can. he said.

 I don't know what that shitty old man sees in you. Probably just lingering favoritism for your dead father. You should have just died with your parents, Kiran. I don't know how you survived that wreck, but it was a mistake."

The mention of the crash sent a white-hot spark through my brain. I didn't think. I lunged forward, shoving him hard against the wall.

Leo didn't fight back. He just adjusted his jacket and smiled. "I’m not hitting you back. I’m not the one who’s unstable."

He walked out, leaving me alone in the wreckage of my own temper. 

I swept everything off my desk—the computer, the files, the glass awards—everything shattered. 

My right hand began to shake uncontrollably. A tremor I couldn't stop.

I couldn't stay here. I drove straight to the club, the neon lights a blur. 

The girl behind the bar she asked. "The usual, Kiran? Or something stronger?" 

"Stronger," I rasped, watching my hand vibrate against my back.

As the drugs hit my bloodstream, the world finally started to slow down. 

I don't take this because I like it. 

I take it because I can't breathe without it.

 It’s my only way of escaping a reality where my parents are dead and my so called family is trying to eat me alive.

When I finally returned to the villa, the house was quiet.

 I walked toward the servant's quarters, looking for that rat, but her room was empty.

"If you're looking for Clara, she’s with your grandfather," the head maid informed me.

I walked toward the garden wing and stopped. Through the glass doors, I saw them. My grandfather and the rat were laughing. Truly laughing.

"I never knew you two were this close," I said, stepping into the room.

Grandpa looked up, his face brighter than I’d seen it in years. 

"Yes, we are. Since Clara came, I haven't been lonely for a second."

I looked at Clara. She looked happy. Innocent. It irritated me. I grabbed her hand, pulling her up. "You’ll have to excuse us, i said to my grandpa." 

he replied. “sure sure have your time.” like he was happy i came looking for clara. 

Once we were outside, the coldness returned. "Did my aunt tell you to do anything today?"

She lowered her head. "Yes."

"And you weren't going to tell me?" I snapped.

"I was! She only just called!" Clara whispered. "She told me to find a document in your room about the new investments. I’m supposed to get it for her tomorrow."

I started to laugh. It was so predictable. "No wonder her lapdog showed up at my office today. They’re planning a coup."

I walked to my room, grabbed the files, and tossed them to her. Her eyes went wide. "You're... you're giving them to her?"

"Let them think they’re winning," I said, a dark smile spreading across my face. "I want to see the look on her face when she realizes she’s been playing my game the whole time. Call her. Tell her you found them."

Clara did as she was told.

 I listened as Victoria praised her over the phone, promising her a fake document to swap out.

I looked at her. She was looking at me like I was a puzzle she couldn't solve. She didn't realize that in this house, the only way to survive a snake like Victoria is to be a bigger monster.

And for the first time, I had the perfect partner in crime.