CHAPTER 3

"Is that his real name?"

"Nobody calls him by his real name, except for his mother," Martha whispered.

"Oh." That was all Emma could manage to say; her mind was spinning with confusion.

"Emma, I strongly suggest you stay away from the master. He is not someone you want to anger," Martha warned, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Wh-what? Wh-why?"

"Don't ask questions. Just do as I say." Her tone was suddenly much colder than before.

Emma responded with a silent nod. She had no idea why Martha was saying all of these things, but she knew that if she wanted to keep her job, she had to obey the head maid. Besides, she had a sinking suspicion that Martha was absolutely right.

Crawling into bed, she closed her eyes, desperately hoping to fall asleep quickly.

She was alone. It was completely dark.

"Please help me, Mom! Please don't leave me here, please!" Her terrified screams echoed through the empty walls. She shivered, the sound of her own desperate voice frightening her even more. But no one came.

What did I ever do to deserve a life like this? Why are my own mother and father treating me this way?

She sobbed uncontrollably, desperately hoping that someone—anyone—would come and save her.

"Mom, Dad, please help!" Her tiny hands banged weakly against the rock-hard door. Defeated, she slumped down onto the dirty floor and rested her heavy head against the wall.

A few minutes later, the door barged open.

"Get up, you filthy bitch," her foster father shouted, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her upward.

She screamed in agony. "Please, Dad, no! Please stop!" she begged.

"Shut up, you whore," he spat.

"Please, Dad, don't!" she pleaded again, trembling under the wicked glare of his eyes.

"Shut up," he snarled. He pulled a thick rope from his pocket and dragged her toward a bed she hadn't even realized was in the room. She resisted, thrashing and trying to flee, but her tiny body was no match for him. Within seconds, he had her wrists and ankles bound securely to the frame.

Then, he pulled a heavy leather belt from the closet. The little girl gazed up at her foster father in sheer terror, shaking her head and pleading with him not to punish her.

"This will teach you that you can never escape from us," he hissed, bringing the heavy belt down against her fragile skin.

Emma awoke panting heavily. The nightmares had returned once more. She didn't even realize she was sobbing until she pressed her trembling palms to her face and felt the hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Wiping her eyes, she forced herself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. After splashing cold water on her face, she crawled back under the covers. She exhaled deeply, trying to force her racing heart to relax.

The nightmares never truly left her alone.

Alexander

What was she doing to him?

Her eyes were captivating and enchanting, making him want to dive into those vibrant green depths again and again. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her delicate features. How could someone look so effortlessly stunning?

He had undoubtedly seen countless beautiful women—women he could have at any moment, from any location, if he so desired. But she... she was entirely unique. She possessed an innocence that appeared completely untainted.

Alexander couldn't fight the overwhelming urge to touch her. He could feel his body hardening just at the thought of her. Her eyes had clearly revealed how utterly terrified she was of him. When he looked at her for the first time, a strange tightness gripped his chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to keep herself from breaking down. Yet, he couldn't deny the dark, twisted thrill that coursed through him knowing he was the sole source of those tears.

She had hesitated. She had disobeyed him, and absolutely no one ever disobeyed Alexander King.

Then, his sister had screamed at her. Surprisingly, Alexander had felt no satisfaction in watching the girl be humiliated. He clenched his fists tightly and slammed one into the wall.

Why was it upsetting him so deeply that a random girl was crying? She was just a maid. Someone hired to work in his family's home. But there was something else about her, something he couldn't quite pinpoint.

He let out an agitated sigh and lay back on his expansive bed, trying to force her out of his mind. But how could he?

In his imagination, she was everywhere. She hadn't even been dressed provocatively; she was just wearing a standard maid's uniform, standard socks, and cheap heels. Her hair had simply been hanging loose around her shoulders.

He wanted to wrap his fingers in that long hair and hold her firmly in place the next time she dared not to listen to him.

Fuck! She is driving me crazy.

It was becoming difficult to think clearly. He realized he needed to get a grip on himself. Forcing his eyes shut, he eventually managed to drift into a restless sleep.

The next morning, the sharp blare of his alarm clock woke him. He rolled over and slammed his hand against the button to silence it. Pushing himself out of bed, Alexander headed straight for the shower. Once he was clean, he changed into a perfectly tailored, custom tuxedo and applied a light spray of his signature cologne.

When Alexander walked downstairs, the dining room was completely empty. He assumed he would have to eat breakfast alone before departing for his own estate.

This mansion technically belonged to his father, not him. Although his father continuously claimed Alexander would eventually inherit the property, Alexander preferred to acquire his own possessions. As the ruthless CEO of their family's massive firm and a wealthy businessman in his own right, he had purchased a sprawling estate of his own years ago. He only visited his father's house on rare occasions.

A few maids were dusting the hallways, immediately bowing their heads as soon as they noticed him. Ignoring them, Alexander picked up a crystal glass from the side table and poured himself a generous splash of wine. Taking a long sip, he began a slow walk around the perimeter of the silent house.

He eventually came to a halt in front of a massive bay window overlooking the expansive gardens. Scanning the pristine grounds, he noticed someone tending to the flowerbeds, their attention completely devoted to the delicate blooms.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. No one had ever shown that much tender care for the plants before. He narrowed his eyes to focus, and his breath hitched slightly. It was her. She was gently plucking dead grass from the soil, carefully positioning each flower and softly patting the dirt around its base. Her beautiful, loose hair flowed freely in the morning breeze, moving as perfectly as if the wind itself were dancing with her.

For a brief second, his heart seemed to stop. Some of her hair had blown across her face, obstructing her vision, and she was trying awkwardly to brush it away with her dirt-stained wrists. She shook her head, hoping the strands would fall back into place, but they stubbornly refused. Letting out a soft sigh, she stood up from the ground and wiped her grimy hands on a small towel nearby. She gathered the thick mass of her hair and twisted it up into a messy bun. Still, a few loose tendrils escaped and framed her face, making her look somehow even more breathtaking.

Having finished her morning chores, she turned and made her way back inside the house. The moment she stepped through the doors, her gaze collided directly with Alexander's.

She let out a sharp, shocked gasp.

"M-master... y-you're still here. D-do you need so-something?" she stuttered nervously, immediately dropping her eyes to the floor.

Fuck! What is it about her that makes me want to close the distance between us?

Alexander remained completely silent as he took slow, deliberate steps toward her. When she saw him approaching, her small body flinched. A dark grin tugged at the corner of his lips at the sight of her reaction. He secretly relished her apprehension. He stopped only when he was mere inches away from her. Slowly, he reached out and gently stroked her flushed cheek. Her skin was incredibly soft, melting flawlessly beneath the rough pads of his fingers.

"S-sir... what are you d-doing?" she whispered shakily.

Alexander absolutely hated questions.

"Beautiful," he murmured, ignoring her entirely.

Trembling violently, she slowly lifted her terrified eyes to meet his intense stare. The raw fear in her gaze brought him to a screeching halt. Alexander clenched his jaw, tightly balling his free hand into a fist as he reluctantly pulled his fingers away from her cheek and took a step back. That tiny bit of distance provided her with the perfect opportunity, and she instantly fled down the hallway, rushing away from him as fast as she could.

What the hell was I doing?

He muttered a harsh curse under his breath, aggressively running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. He needed to keep his distance from this girl. He rationally concluded that if he returned to his own estate and drastically minimized his visits to his father's house, he would quickly rid himself of this sudden, unexplainable desire for a lowly maid.

After a quick breakfast, he stormed out of the mansion, climbed into his sleek car, and drove away.

Emma

What is his problem? Why was he standing so close to me... why was he touching me?!

Emma's mind raced wildly. To say she was terrified would be a massive understatement. She was deeply perplexed. No man had ever approached her like that before, let alone reached out to stroke her face. She had been so paralyzed by fear that she couldn't even force her feet to move. Even though a traitorous part of her had to admit his touch was surprisingly warm and delicate, she absolutely abhorred the idea of a volatile, dangerous man putting his hands on her.

She breathed a heavy sigh of gratitude to God once he finally left. Martha had mentioned that Alexander rarely visited, preferring to spend the vast majority of his time at his own estate. Emma felt incredibly relieved knowing she wouldn't have to see him very often.

"Come on, girls, time for breakfast!" she heard Martha call out from down the hall.

The rest of the maids quickly gathered, taking their seats at the large kitchen table specifically reserved for the staff. They pulled out their morning meals, huddling close with their friends and eagerly gossiping about how undeniably hot the young master was.

Seriously? He is our employer. How can they say things like that? How can they even think that way!

Although she reluctantly had to agree that he was devastatingly gorgeous, she felt it was entirely inappropriate for them to speak about the terrifying master of the house in such a casual, lustful manner.

"Hello there," a soft, friendly voice said, suddenly snapping her out of her troubled thoughts.

"Oh, hi," Emma replied quietly.

"So, you're the new maid here?" the girl asked, sliding into the empty seat right beside Emma and setting down a plate full of food.

"Yes, I am," Emma said, offering a small, polite smile.

"I'm Vanessa," the girl beamed, extending her hand.

"Emma," she replied shyly, reaching out to shake it.

"Emma? Is there any special reason your parents named you that?" Vanessa chuckled lightly.

"Uh... not really. No special reason," Emma answered, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She was painfully aware that her name was somewhat plain and unusual for her background. According to her abusive foster parents, the name was on her paperwork long before she was ever placed in their care. She still had absolutely no idea who had actually given her the moniker.

Vanessa seemed to sense her discomfort and chuckled warmly. "It's okay! You don't need to be embarrassed, sweetie," she reassured her.

After that, the girls quietly ate their breakfast together. A somewhat awkward silence settled over the table until Martha finally walked back into the room.

"Girls, please finish up your breakfast quickly. We have a lot of work to do today. Let me assign everyone their tasks," Martha announced, clapping her hands together. "Okay, so... Vanessa, you will work in the kitchen and handle the dishes. Susan and Alice, you two will deep clean the living room." She continued down the line, rattling off a long list of chores.

"And lastly, Emma. You need to wipe down the grand dining table, dust the library, and tidy up the guest bedrooms."

Emma nodded her head respectfully. She was actually quite happy with her assignment. She enjoyed keeping things neat, and the prospect of cleaning the massive library genuinely excited her.

Finishing her meal, she carried her empty plate to the sink and began washing her hands.

"Move aside, you jerk," a sharp voice hissed from behind her.

Emma quickly turned her head and found a smirking brunette maid glaring directly at her. She didn't say a single word; she simply stepped out of the way, giving the hostile girl plenty of space at the sink. The brunette squeezed a generous amount of liquid soap into her palms, maintaining unwavering, mocking eye contact with Emma the entire time she washed up.

"So, you're the clumsy idiot who poured ice water all over Miss Sofia's lap last night?" the girl asked in a cruel, mocking tone.

Emma remained silent. The girl clearly already knew the answer; she just wanted to gloat.

"Well, what kind of a retarded girl are you to mess up on your very first day?" the brunette sneered, drying her hands before strutting away.

Emma stood frozen, watching the mean girl leave the kitchen. She let out a shaky sigh, her breathing hitching slightly in her throat, but she absolutely refused to let the tears fall.

"It's okay, Emma. Just ignore her. She has always been incredibly nasty," Vanessa remarked gently, stepping up to pat Emma comfortably on the back.

Ignoring cruelty was practically all Emma had ever done in her life. First the years of horrific abuse, and later the crippling poverty, had taught her the vital survival skill of simply turning a blind eye to bullies.

Emma quickly finished wiping down the massive dining room table, a task that took her roughly ten minutes. Now, it was time to tackle the library. She felt a surge of pure excitement—she absolutely adored reading. When she finally reached the heavy oak doors, she pushed them open and stepped inside.

A soft gasp escaped her lips when she saw the sheer number of leather-bound volumes lining the towering shelves. The room itself was incredibly expansive; the family's private library was easily larger than the entire apartment she had shared with Miss Garcia.

God, I don't even know where to start.

Just as the overwhelming thought crossed her mind, she noticed a few other maids already diligently dusting the lower shelves. She let out a long sigh. On one hand, she was deeply relieved she wouldn't have to clean this massive room entirely by herself. But on the other hand, she felt a sharp pang of disappointment. She had genuinely hoped to spend some quiet, solitary time surrounded by her absolute favorite thing in the entire world.

Books.

"Excuse me, do you need something?" a male voice suddenly called out.

Emma spun around and found a young man staring at her. He had astounding, bright blue eyes and perfectly styled blonde hair.

"Uh... w-well, I-I'm here t-to help clean the li-library," she stuttered nervously. She absolutely despised stammering, but it was a lingering anxious habit from her traumatic childhood. She had never been adept at socializing, particularly not with men. To make matters worse, the young man standing in front of her was undeniably handsome, which only amplified her deep apprehension.

He chuckled lightly, a friendly sound. "Okay then. You can start by cleaning that section over there," he said, casually pointing toward the far corner of the room.

Emma nodded quickly and practically sprinted in that direction.

When she reached her assigned section, she immediately set to work. The shelves in this corner were covered in a surprisingly thick layer of dust.

Does anyone even read these? she wondered as she wiped the spines. These books look like they haven't been touched in years.

She diligently dusted all the bottom shelves but was forced to stop when she reached the top. The grand bookcases were easily eight feet tall. How on earth was she supposed to clean the upper tiers? Scanning the room, her gaze finally landed on a tall wooden rolling ladder tucked against the far wall. She breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed the heavy rails, and smoothly slid the ladder over to her section.

Taking a deep breath, she climbed up one rung at a time, carefully placing her feet. Emma was deeply afraid of heights, so the simple task felt incredibly daunting. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she reached up to wipe the wood. Just as she shifted her weight to climb one step higher, her slippery maid heel caught the edge of the wood, and her foot completely slid out from under her.

A sharp scream ripped from her throat, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the quiet library. Panic seized her heart as gravity pulled her backward. She was certain she was going to crash down onto the solid hardwood floor, break her hips, and never be able to stand up straight again.

But the bone-crushing impact never came. Instead, she found her body hovering completely suspended in mid-air.

Am I actually floating right now?!

Her eyelids snapped open in shock, only to find a pair of bright blue eyes staring intently down at her. A loud gasp escaped her lips when she fully realized the handsome blonde guy had caught her mid-fall and was currently holding her securely in his strong arms. Humiliated, she immediately bowed her head, her cheeks burning with intense shame.

"Easy there, beautiful," he chuckled softly, gently lowering her feet to the floor until she was standing safely on her own.

"T-thank you," she mumbled quietly, completely mortified. She immediately spun around to make a hasty retreat.

"Hey, wait. What's your name?" he called out.

Emma froze. He's asking for my name? No boy has ever asked me that before.

"E-Emma," she blurted out instantly, too flustered to say anything else before she practically sprinted out of the library doors.

As she rushed down the hall, she made the firm decision to inform Martha that she would simply be unable to clean the upper shelves from now on. She just prayed the head maid wouldn't be enraged by her fear of heights. Pushing the embarrassing encounter out of her mind, she gathered a vacuum and a fresh pail of rags, heading straight for the guest bedrooms to finish the rest of her morning chores.