Chapter Eight: Fading Out 

Kaida

My new room was a fantasy come true, a stark contrast to the cubicle I had inhabited at Meredith's place. It was spacious enough to occupy ten times the size of my previous room. I reveled in the aesthetic decor and ambiance, savoring every detail. 

The air was crisp and fresh, exuding a sense of luxury I had never encountered in my twenty-eight years. I moved from one corner to the other, admiring each fixture in the room. This was a princely suite, not what I expected for a house help's quarters. 

If this was the room their house helps occupied, I wondered how grand the main rooms would be. 

My heart fluttered as I explored my new room, taking in its splendor while mentally noting that I had limited time to prepare and report back to Caspian to commence my duties. 

As previously informed, a manila folder sat in the middle of the neatly made bed. I walked towards it and reached for it, then fell back onto the bed with a soft sigh, a wide grin spreading across my face. I spread my arms out to the sides, my feet kicking the air ecstatically before I set them back down on the ground. 

The bed was plush, like the rest of the furniture in the room, which featured IKEA standard installations and state-of-the-art appliances. The soft lavender tone complemented the light shade of the polished floors. Several light bulbs were fixed into the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room like a veneer. 

The ensuite bathroom was twice as large as my previous room and was furnished tastefully, fully stocked with every basic amenity one would need, from toiletries to spare brushes, loofahs, and more. It was very thoughtful of them. 

I hadn't brought my belongings since Caspian mentioned I was only resuming on probation. For all I knew, I might be sent packing before the day ended, given the cheeky behavior I had displayed. I took a moment to revel in the luxury surrounding me, even though there was a strong possibility that I might not last there.

Why would anyone in their right mind give up this place? The outlook was nirvana in itself—a serene and blissful haven. However, its occupants were the epitome of harshness, intent on shattering their employee's psyche. I had already been receiving doses of their harshness from day one. Heaven knows how many months I could endure their behavior before I called it quits.

 I figured I could last about a month or two and flee with my earnings before they wore me down beyond redemption. Recalling that time was of the essence, I leaped up to a sitting position and removed the document from its folder. 

I checked the time on my phone. I still had about forty minutes left to thoroughly review my contract, append my signature as necessary, and resume work promptly. My phone's screen flashed, vibrating in my hand, indicating an incoming call from Meredith.

 I answered the call and raised my phone to my ear, excitement bubbling within me. I couldn't wait to share the good news about the pay with Meredith. 

"Hey, babe," Meredith's voice emanated from the speaker, smooth and clear. "How's it going?"

 "It's better than I imagined," I told her, grinning from ear to ear. "The pay is great."

 "I knew it," Meredith squealed, extending her congratulations. 

"Thanks so much, babe," I said appreciatively. "I can't talk much right now, but I'll fill you in on the details later tonight." 

"Promise?"

 I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "Promise." 

"Are you spending the night there?"

 "Probably. I'm still on probation, remember?" 

"Send me a video when you're free," Meredith chirped excitedly. 

"You can bank on that." 

"Good. Don't let me keep you away from your assignment. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

 "I'm good." So far. "Thanks, Edith. I really appreciate it." 

"Anytime! What are friends for? Bye." 

"Bye," I replied. 

After Meredith ended the call, I set my phone down on the bed and opened the document, carefully reading its content. 

My responsibilities entailed managing all household chores, with their respective expectations outlined in bullet points under each listed service I would be offering. In a nutshell, I was expected to be awake as early as 5 a.m. to cater to their needs. 

My forehead began to crease as I read further. The entire house had to be kept in pristine condition at all times, excluding areas where I was not permitted to enter.

"The entire house?" I repeated aloud, contemplating whether the compensation was commensurate with the workload. I knew the pay was too attractive to be real. Employees were, after all, often undercompensated for their efforts, according to studies. I would be exceeding my duties to keep up with the demands of this job, and that was if I didn't succumb to burnout. 

However, I had worked more grueling jobs for meager pay and wasn't about to be easily swayed by this one. I could just work a month or two and leave if I discovered I had reached my limit. That was the plan. 

I continued reading. There were explicit instructions to stay away from rooms marked on the map, which was outlined on the last page of the document. I flipped to the last page to review the restricted areas. It was mostly their rooms and a few underground structures. The map was a visual representation of the house's blueprint, with several red and green highlights indicating authorized and restricted zones. 

Curfew hours commenced at 12:00 a.m. and lasted until dawn. I pushed back my cheeks, my lips flattening into a thin line as I stared in incredulity at what I had just read. 

Did they imply that curfew was observed within the vicinity of their estate? I pondered. No, the curfew hours were observed within the house. I was expected to be in my room, with my door securely locked, before the clock struck midnight. 

What kind of rules were these? Some Cinderella movie where I couldn't stay out past midnight? What if I wanted to bask in the nighttime view and the breeze?

 At Meredith's house, I could stay on the balcony, reveling in the breeze for as long as I wanted. 

There were far too many restrictions attached to this job. Suspicion flared within me as I read more and more of their terms and conditions. These brothers surely had secrets to hide.

 I couldn't bring any of my belongings into their premises, as everything I would need during my stay would be provided. 

The further I read, the more I scoffed, tsked, and marveled. Their rules were verging on the absurd. The money was more than I had ever been offered, but did I really want to be subject to the whims of these authoritarian figures?

There were too many rules. I had lost count of the facial expressions and reactions their rules had evoked from me. 

"You've got to be kidding me," I whispered in utter disbelief when I reached the final clause. I had to agree to work under their employ for no less than a year; otherwise, there would be no employment. 

Seriously? I slammed the three-page document shut, casting my gaze upward. "Damn!" I had to make a tough decision here. This contract had me in a tight spot. My interest in working here had drastically waned. 

However, I couldn't help but mentally calculate the benefits the money could bring me right now. The work demands were equally challenging and daunting. The contract was tantamount to signing my death wish. There was no gainsaying the fact that I wouldn't survive months here, not to mention a whole year. Given the pressure I was certain I would encounter from them and the overwhelming daily tasks, working for the Ragnar brothers for a year surely wasn't feasible.

A thought occurred to me out of the blue, and my brows shot up at once, my body tensing with alertness. The contract mentioned an annual salary of $200,000. I rallied back to the section where the pay had been discussed to allay my fears. That couldn't imply that I would be paid after a year, right? 

I didn't remember seeing the installment plan for my salary, with the total accumulating to $200,000 at the end of a year's span. Or had my eyes omitted it?

 I scanned the document for the spot, growing impatient as I couldn't find it easily. My mind was distracted by questions regarding the brothers' integrity concerning their payment structure. 

Eventually, I found it. I huffed in relief, adjusting my sitting position. I traced the words with my finger and read aloud, "The annual salary for this position is $200,000, which will be paid in accordance with our standard payroll schedule." What was their standard payroll schedule? Was it weekly, biweekly, or monthly? It wasn't specified in the contract. There was no way I would append my signature to a contract with vague details like this.

It was as though the brothers were trying to pull a fast one on me. Was this their modus operandi? Make people work themselves to the bone for them, frustrate them to the point of desperation, and then use the contract to withhold payment as scheduled? 

Hell no. I wouldn't endure a toxic environment only to be cheated out of my compensation due to some ambiguous semantics. This must be the reason why several of their previous house helps had required therapy. Clearly traumatized by the grueling schedules, working tirelessly to the point of burnout, only to be denied their pay when they expected it, contrary to their contract. 

As the contract didn't explicitly indicate their standard payroll schedule, an unsuspecting individual might have assumed it was similar to the standard official payment structure – monthly – only to be proven wrong. Robbed of their efforts and outwitted with evidence, they might have walked away without any compensation, feeling deep-seated anger, frustration, and dejection. The need for therapy was understandable.

I knew the brothers lacked proper etiquette, but this was a new low I didn't expect from them, given their proven financial status.

 I should bail right now. However, I couldn't shake off the allure of the money echoing in my head – it was a substantial amount. Fear and greed whispered caution. I wanted to see it reflected in my account. It could absolve all my towering debts in due time, with enough left over to make up for the time I had languished in poverty. 

However, could I endure one year? Time flies when you're doing what you love, but it tends to drag when you're not. Did I want to take that chance?

 Fear that I wouldn't be able to hold out until the very end and end up losing greatly gnawed at me, filling me with trepidation. "Why am I even considering this?" I leaped from the bed, bracing my waist with one hand while holding the document facing down in the other. I walked out of the room, in search of Caspian.

As much as I would have loved to work here, the risks were just too great. 

There was no one in sight when I reached the living room. 

"Caspian!" I called out, my voice echoing off the walls of the spacious living room. I repeated his name, my voice growing louder, yet there was no response. Unless the alpha was suffering from hearing loss, he ought to have heard me calling him, as long as he was within the premises. He was an alpha werewolf, after all.

"Caspian!" I tried again, met with silence once more. I didn't want to make a hasty decision and leave without confirming my suspicions first. I could deal with every other term except the vagueness of the annual pay clause. Even if all basic needs would be provided for, I needed my money deposited into my account each month I survived. That was the only motivation I could cling to, even if I could summon the fortitude from God knows where to fulfill the contract span. 

I moved away from the sitting room, walking further into their living quarters, which were situated on the north wing of my own quarter, a floor above it. Their rooms weren't off-limits, but I could only appear there when summoned. That is, I could only clean under their supervision. 

Seriously. Why was I still looking for answers? I should be on the street hailing a cab to drive me back home. Screw this. 

I paused at the foot of the stairs, contemplating going up and seeking Caspian. Perhaps he was occupied in his room or something. He had told me to meet up with him in an hour. It wasn't exactly an hour yet, but it appeared no one was within proximity. 

I hesitated to climb up, having a terrible feeling about this. After several moments of mental deliberation, weighing my options, I decided to leave. 

I found it hard to trust them and their excessive boundaries. Why were there so many prohibited areas? I had to observe curfew hours too. I snorted, shaking my head.

 Although the pay was immensely attractive, it wasn't worth the headache that would come with the job. This was clearly bondage wrapped in a façade of luxury.

 I spun around at once to leave, only to come face-to-face with a wall of sweaty, hard muscle. My heart lurched in my throat, a tiny gasp escaping me in shock. 

Slowly, I raised my gaze from the solid chest blocking my path to the person's chiseled jaw. Recognition dawned before my eyes collided with those familiar icy green eyes. 

"Malachi," I breathed, air caught in my lungs. 

He had that malicious glint in his eyes that suggested I had been caught committing a taboo, and I wouldn't be going scot-free without being duly punished.

I opened my mouth to explain, but my throat constricted in trepidation, words escaping me. I felt overwhelmed by his towering build and the weight of his frosty glare. 

I worked my tongue in my dry throat, attempting to speak, but before I could utter a sound, Malachi gripped my throat in a chokehold, spun me across the room in a blur, and slammed my back against the wall in the corner.

 I gasped, a searing pain shooting through my back and piercing my heart. I winced, my sight momentarily blurring. 

My fingers clawed at Malachi's firm grip around my throat, my eyes wide with fear and anxiety. He was hurting me. I groaned for him to stop, struggling futilely against his hold.

 Malachi snarled in my face, his chokehold unrelenting. 

Stars began to dance in my vision as I desperately hit his hands, craving oxygen. I got the message – don't trespass. Let me go before I die. But Malachi continued strangling me, his eyes blazing with an unnerving intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

 Stars, I was really going to die. Tears burned my eyes as I envisioned my life force slipping away. My strength waned, and I was unable to struggle anymore. 

The moment my hands grew limp and dropped to my sides, my vision blackening, I knew it was over for me.