Chapter Three

I’m still curled up on my bed, wiping the last of my tears, when there’s a knock on my door.

“Lila?” It’s another maid, peeking in. “Miss Zara, Mr. Asher’s sister, says you should come to her room. Now.”

My stomach sinks. I know how it is to face Zara because she hates me a lot.

I drag myself up, fix my uniform, and force my face into something neutral. Whatever she needs, I’ll just do it quickly and leave.

When I reach her room, she’s sitting in front of a massive dressing table, surrounded by uncountable perfumes and expensive makeup.

“Took you long enough,” she says without looking at me. “My hair’s a mess. Fix it.”

I nod quietly, stepping behind her. Her hair is thick and shiny. She probably has stylists fussing over it every day. I run my fingers through it gently, starting to braid as she instructs.

“Also do my makeup. Light and natural. I have a brunch to attend.”

I reach for the foundation with shaky hands, still drained from the call with the doctor. But I try to stay calm.

Then her voice changes.

“I’ve been watching you.”

I pause slightly, unsure what she means.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at my brother.”

I freeze, holding the brush in the air. My eyes flicker to the mirror where she’s glaring at me.

“I_I wasn’t_”

“Save it,” she cuts me off sharply. “I’ve seen girls like you. Poor. Desperate. Thinking maybe they can trap a Lancaster with puppy eyes and flirty stares.”

Her words hit like slaps.

“I’m not…” I try again, voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh please,” she scoffs. “You really think you’re special? That he sees you? You’re just a maid. A background extra in his life.”

She turns slowly to face me, her tone dripping venom. 

“He already has someone. Elise. She’s perfect, beautiful, and educated. Not some… orphaned, charity case girl wearing secondhand shoes.”

I clench my fists, willing myself not to cry again. Not here.

“I don’t want trouble,” I whisper.

“Then stay far away from him,” she hisses. “Or I promise you, I’ll make your stay here unbearable.”

She turns back to the mirror like nothing happened. “Now blend that eyeshadow properly. And fix my curls.”

I nod, silently, hands trembling as I continue. But inside, I feel like breaking. I know she hates me but I never expected this.

“Miss Zara,” a maid’s voice calls from the hallway. “Your car is ready.”

Zara stands, checking herself in the mirror one last time. “Finally,” she mutters, grabbing her designer bag.

I step back instinctively.

She doesn’t even glance at me. “You can go now.”

I quickly lower my head and leave, my chest still tight from everything she said. Her words echo in my head like knives

“A background extra,” “trap a Lancaster,” “secondhand shoes.”

I try to shake it off as I make my way down the long, marbled corridor, but my feet slow when I hear voices echoing from around the corner.

A door is ajar. The study door.

I recognize the deep, stern voice immediately. It is Mr. Lancaster.

“You’re reckless, Asher,” he says. “Flirting with irresponsible girls and parading around like a runway clown. You think I’ll hand over my company to someone who doesn't respect the Lancaster name?”

“What’s your business with my life!” Asher’s voice snaps back. “And flirting or whatever doesn’t make me any less capable of running the business.”

“You’re supposed to be next in line. But you’re too busy chasing cameras and girls who look like temporary accessories.”

There’s a pause, then a sharp inhale.

“I’ve tolerated Elise long enough,” Mr. Lancaster continues coldly. “She’s not suitable. If you must marry, marry someone with substance. Someone responsible. Not another I*******m cover girl.”

My eyes widened. My heart thuds. Lancaster doesn't like Elise

“You want to control everything!” Asher’s voice rises. “My job, my life, who I love!”

A loud crash follows and something shatters. Maybe a flower vase.

I flinch, my hand flying to my mouth.

“You think this is fair?” Asher shouts. “You think I chose this life? I didn’t ask to be born into your perfect empire!”

“You want the company, Asher?” Mr. Lancaster's voice went low. “Then act like it. Clean up your mess, or your little modeling dream becomes permanent.”

There’s a long silence.

I can almost hear Asher’s heavy breathing, his fury choking the air.

“I won’t marry some boring heiress just to please you,” he spits finally. “And I'm so sure that I won’t stop being myself for your empire.”

Another sharp sound follows which is his footsteps storming away.

I jump back into the nearest hallway, holding my breath as he storms past me, not even noticing I’m there.

My heart races. So not everything in the Lancaster world is perfect.

Suddenly ,I feel a light tap on my shoulder and spin around, startled.

It’s Irene.

Her expression is tense, eyes wide with warning. “Lila,” she whispers sharply, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the study door. “What are you doing here?”

“I–I was just walking back to my room,” I stammered, though I know how weak it sounds.

“Near the study?” she hisses. “Are you insane?”

I glance back at the door. “I didn’t mean to listen. I just... heard voices.”

“Well, you never try this again,” she snaps, eyes darting around to make sure no one else is close. “Eavesdropping on the Lancaster family isn’t just risky. It’s dangerous.”

My brows furrow. “Dangerous?”

Irene nods.

 “If anyone finds out you were listening in on Mr. Lancaster and Asher, they won’t just fire you. You’ll be blacklisted. No references. No second chances. And if Mrs. Lancaster hears about it?” She shakes her head.

 “She once had a maid thrown out in the rain in the middle of the night just for accidentally walking in during a meeting.”

My stomach turns. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Irene says, her voice low and urgent. “This place runs on silence and obedience. Don’t risk this job. Don’t give them a reason.”

“Go to your room. Now,” she whispers, glancing one last time at the hallway. “And pretend you heard nothing.”

I nod, before I leave her, still wondering how things would've been assuming I was caught.

By the time I finish my chores for the night, my feet are aching and my back feels like it’s about to snap in half. All I want is to fall face-first into my tiny bed and pretend the world doesn’t exist for a few hours.

I push open the door to my room, sighing in relief as I step in. But then, I freeze.

There’s a sound.

Running water.

I blink, frowning. My bathroom tap was definitely off when I left.

I take slow, cautious steps toward the bathroom, my heart thudding. The door is slightly ajar, warm steam curling into the room.

 Someone’s in there.

I push it open, holding my breath and nearly drop dead on the spot.

“Asher?!”