Chapter 11- Whose fault is it?

Aria's POV

I was only half-awake.

The thin blanket barely covered me. My body wouldn't stop shivering. Every joint ached, and my throat burned with each shallow breath. I kept my eyes closed, trying to will the pounding in my head to quiet down, when I heard the soft creak of the door opening.

I didn't open my eyes. I didn't have the strength.

A moment later, without warning, a wave of freezing, filthy water crashed over me.

I gasped and bolted upright as the cold shock stole the air from my lungs. Muddy water soaked through the blanket, my nightclothes, my hair, and the mattress beneath me. It ran down my face and neck in dirty rivulets. The smell hit me next: sour, earthy, and foul.

I wiped at my eyes with trembling hands, blinking hard against the water and the sudden brightness of the room.

Evelyn stood at the foot of the bed.

She was already perfectly dressed for the day. The empty metal bucket dangled from her fingers.

"Still in bed?" she said lightly, almost as if she were commenting on the weather. "How convenient for you."

I stared at her, water dripping from my chin onto the already soaked sheets. My voice came out hoarse and broken.

"Mrs. Vance... I..."

"You what?" She set the bucket down with a loud clank. "You decided you deserved a holiday? You thought a little chill gave you permission to lie here like some useless invalid while the rest of the house staff works?"

I pulled the wet blanket higher out of instinct, though it offered no warmth.

"I have a cold. I can barely..."

"A cold." Evelyn's laugh was short and sharp. "How dramatic. Do you think anyone in this house cares about your discomfort? Do you think I care? Whose fault is that? Who decided to be clumsy yesterday? Who made a mess of my blouse and my rug?"

"It was my fault," I whispered.

"Of course it was."

She leaned down slightly, her eyes cold and assessing.

She took a step closer. Her gaze lingered over me, taking in my soaked nightclothes, the way I was still shaking, and the water pooling on the floor.

"Look at the mess you've made again. That's the second time now," she continued. "Water everywhere. Mud on my sheets. And still you sit there staring at me as if you expect sympathy."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Sorry doesn't clean the floor. Sorry doesn't change the fact that you are lazy and useless."

She straightened.

"Now get up. Get dressed. You will go downstairs and do your work like everyone else. I will not have staff wasting daylight because they can't handle a little weather. If you're well enough to make excuses, you're well enough to work. Move."

My body felt leaden as I forced myself to stand. Water dripped from my clothes onto the floor with every movement. My head spun so hard I had to grip the edge of the dresser to stay upright.

Evelyn watched me the entire time, her arms folded and her expression unchanged.

"And Aria," she added as I reached for a dry uniform with shaking hands, "if I find you in bed again during work hours, the consequences will be far less pleasant than a bucket of water. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mrs. Vance," I whispered.

She turned and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind her.

I stood there dripping, cold, and exhausted, staring at the wet mess of my bed, already knowing the day ahead would be longer and harder than the last.

I changed into a dry uniform with shaking hands and made my way downstairs, still shivering.

I was halfway down the staff hallway, dusting cloth in hand, when Lila appeared around the corner. She stopped short the moment she saw me.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, her eyes widening. "You look like death. I saw you yesterday afternoon, and you were fine. Now you look ready to collapse."

I tried to keep walking.

"I'm okay."

Lila stepped in front of me, blocking the path.

"Don't give me that. You're pale as paper, your eyes are red, and you're shaking. Talk."

I hesitated, then gave her the short version: the coffee spill, the rain, kneeling outside for an hour, the bucket of dirty water that morning, and Evelyn ordering me to work anyway.

Lila's expression darkened with every word.

"She's unbelievable," she muttered. "That woman treats people like they don't even have a heartbeat. Makes you kneel in the freezing rain, then pours filth on you the next morning and still expects you to scrub her floors. It's disgusting. One day someone is going to snap in this house, and it won't be pretty."

"It's fine," I said quietly. "I'll finish my work and then rest. Maybe I can find some medicine later."

Lila looked like she wanted to argue, but she only shook her head and stepped aside.

"Just don't push yourself until you drop. This place isn't worth dying over."

I gave her a weak nod and continued toward the second floor.

I was assigned to dust the second floor, including Julian's home office.

The door was open. He sat behind the large desk, focused on a stack of papers, the gray morning light falling across his shoulders.

I entered as quietly as I could and began dusting the bookshelves near the window, trying to ignore the way my vision occasionally blurred at the edges.

I felt his attention shift before he spoke.

"Aria."

I turned slowly, one hand still resting on the shelf for balance.

Julian's eyes moved over my face, taking in my unnatural pallor, the dark circles beneath my eyes, and the way I was holding myself.

"You look worse than yesterday," he said. "You shouldn't be working like this."

"I'm fine, sir."

"You're not."

He set his pen down.

"Did my mother tell you to come in today?"

The question was quiet, but it carried weight. My heart rang in my ears.

If I told the truth, if I said yes, I didn't know what would happen next. I only knew that Evelyn would make certain I paid for it later.

"No," I said, the lie tasting bitter. "It wasn't Mrs. Vance. I... I decided to work. I don't want to fall behind. It's nothing serious."

Julian studied me for a long moment. Something unreadable moved behind those eyes.

Then he gave a small, almost tired sigh and picked up his pen again.

"Very well," he said. "Continue."

I turned back to the shelf, relief and shame twisting together in my chest.

My hands were unsteady. The room felt warmer than it should have, and the edges of my vision began to darken.

I reached for the next book.

The dizziness hit hard and suddenly.

My knees buckled. The duster slipped from my fingers. The last thing I registered was the hard edge of the desk and Julian's voice calling my name, sharp and alarmed, before the floor rose up to meet me and everything went black.