Chapter 15 : Cinderella

Aria’s POV

Three days had passed since the clinic.

The headache was gone. The heaviness in my chest had lifted. I could walk without feeling like the floor might tilt under me. By the third morning I was done with being treated like I might break.

I found Julian in his home office just after breakfast. He was already dressed for the day, sleeves rolled, focused on something on his laptop. He looked up the moment I appeared in the doorway.

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’m better,” I said. “I want to go back to work.”

He closed the laptop slowly. “The doctor said three to four days minimum.”

“It’s been three. I’m fine. I’m not a guest here, Julian. I was hired to work. Sitting around while everyone else carries the load doesn’t feel right.”

He studied me for a long moment, that familiar assessing look in his eyes. I could see the protest forming.

“I’m not asking to go back to full duties,” I added. “Just something. I need to feel useful again.”

Silence stretched between us. Finally he exhaled and reached for the phone on his desk.

“Mrs. Lang,” he said when she answered. “Aria will resume light duties only. Dusting, simple cleaning, garden work if needed. Nothing strenuous. Full schedule in another three days if she’s still well.” A pause. “Yes. That’s all.”

He set the phone down and looked at me again.

“Light work only. If I find out you’ve been pushing it, the restriction goes back on. Clear?”

“Clear.”

Something like reluctant acceptance settled over his expression. “Go on then.”

I left before he could change his mind.

---

Mrs. Lang assigned me to the kitchen first.

It was mid-morning, quieter than the rush of breakfast service. Two of the younger maids were washing vegetables while Lila wiped down the long prep table. The moment I stepped inside, the low conversation stopped.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward me.

Lila was the first to speak, a small, knowing smile already forming.

“Well, look who finally decided to rejoin the living.”

I picked up a clean cloth. “I was only out a few days.”

One of the younger girls—Tasha—set down the carrot she had been peeling. “A few days of special treatment, from what we heard.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Lila leaned against the table, clearly enjoying this. “I may have mentioned how a certain someone made sure you got medical care, new bedding, and a direct order that nobody was to touch you while you recovered. In front of half the staff, no less.”

Heat crept up my neck. “He was just being decent. I fainted in his office. He felt responsible.”

“Responsible?” the third girl, Rosa, raised an eyebrow. “Most of them don’t even learn our names. He called his own mother and told her to back off. That’s not responsibility. That’s something else.”

Tasha nodded. “You’re lucky, Aria. Really lucky. Saving Mrs. Vance’s life already put you in a different position. Now the son is watching out for you? Some of us have been here years and never got a second glance.”

“He’s only showing appreciation,” I said firmly. “I donated blood. This is one of the ways he can repay that. Nothing more.”

Lila made a skeptical sound. “If that’s what appreciation looks like in this house, I’ve been underpaid for years.”

Rosa lowered her voice, glancing toward the door. “Just be careful. You’re not the first girl to get noticed by someone from that side of the house.”

I paused. “What do you mean?”

The three of them exchanged a look. Lila was the one who finally answered.

“There’s a kind of… pattern in places like this. Big families. Old money. The children are usually expected to marry for the business or the name—contract marriages, convenience, that sort of thing. Most of them go along with it. But every now and then one of them falls for someone they shouldn’t. A maid. A driver. A chef. Someone ordinary. Someone outside their circle. It happens with both the sons and the daughters.”

Tasha picked at the edge of the counter. “We’ve all heard the stories. Friends. Cousins. People from other households. Some get promised things. Some are even told there will be a marriage once the family ‘comes around.’”

“And?” I asked, though part of me already knew.

“Most of the time it ends badly,” Rosa said quietly. “There was a girl who worked for the Halstead family—kitchen staff. The youngest son told her he loved her, said he’d marry her after he sorted things with his parents. Six months later she was pregnant, fired, and given enough money for a bus ticket and silence. Last anyone heard, she was living with a relative in another state, no support, no contact.”

Lila nodded. “A driver for one of the old families on the North Shore got involved with the daughter. When the parents found out, they cut the daughter off completely—no money, no name, nothing. The two of them tried to make it on their own. Within a year he was back to driving for someone else, and she was working retail. The family never took her back.”

Tasha added, “There was a chef at another place. The heir promised her the world. When the engagement to a socialite was announced, the chef was gone the next week. No reference, no final pay. Just erased. And the ones who try to push back or threaten to talk… some of them simply disappear from the circle. No one hears from them again.”

Rosa’s voice dropped further. “A few families are slightly more ‘considerate.’ They’ll allow the person to stay as a mistress or a quiet, unofficial partner, but only if the son or daughter still marries the one the family chose. The real marriage, the public one, stays inside their world. Only a handful of families are actually kind enough to let their children marry for love and keep them. Most protect the name first. Always.”

The kitchen suddenly felt colder.

Lila watched my face. “We’re not saying that’s what’s happening here. We’re saying it happens. Enough that the rest of us notice the signs early.”

I forced a small, steady breath. “Then it’s a good thing nothing like that is happening. Julian has been considerate. That’s all. I’m not foolish enough to count chickens before they hatch.”

Tasha gave a short laugh. “At least you know the saying.”

“I’m serious,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. “He’s been kind because I helped his mother. I’m not going to turn that into a fantasy. I know exactly where I stand in this house. My life isn’t some Cinderella rags-to-riches story.”

Rosa shrugged, going back to the vegetables. “As long as you do. Just… don’t let the special treatment make you forget how these places work.”

Lila bumped my shoulder lightly with her own, her usual sharpness softening for a second. “She’s right. Keep your feet on the ground. But for what it’s worth… he doesn’t look at you like someone settling a debt.”