Chapter 4

But Norman didn't answer. He didn't even look at her. Instead, he turned back to the baby that was still sleeping peacefully in the crib, and spoke as if the baby could understand him.

"She's dead to us. Do you hear me?"

Mrs Lena remained quiet, satisfied that her son was now on her side. Delaney on the other hand, smiled covertly while looking between everyone. Just like her mother, she was happy that her brother believed the lies and they wouldn't have to worry about Calla anymore.

"Don't worry," Fiona said and reached for Norman's arm. "We'll protect him, you and I. No one else matters."

"Yes, sister-in-law," Delaney replied. "You're just the perfect mother of the baby."

****

THE VOSS ESTATE~

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, gently waking Calla from her light sleep. It had been a month since she opened her eyes in the unfamiliar room and every day since then had slowly pulled her further away from the nightmare that almost took her life.

Today was different.

Today, her body didn't ache as much. Her mind wasn't as heavy and for the first time since she had been dumped like trash, a strange sense of calm washed over her. 

Her heart still hurt—aching for the baby she never got to hold, the betrayal she couldn't forget, and the little one she had lost. But she wanted to move, to breathe, and eat something that didn't come through a straw.

Pushing herself off the bed, she stretched and walked into the shower. When she was done, she dressed up and left the room. She had been given a tour around the mansion some days ago and although she wasn't familiar with the entire place yet, she knew her way around some important places like the kitchen and dining.

The house was beautiful. 

She had never lived in a place like this before. A place where she wasn't watched, ordered around, or looked down on. Everything felt foreign... not just because of the size or luxury, but because of the freedom.

She walked slowly, taking her time to admire the art pieces along the walls, the exquisite furniture, the glass staircase, the open views of the city from the windows... everything.

But as she kept moving, memories began to return. She remembered the first time she was brought to live in the King's mansion, believing it was a blessing.

Not long after, she was given a small room in the servants' quarters, and told to be "useful." From morning till night, she ran errands, cleaned, did the laundry as well as everything that was asked of her.

But she didn't complain, instead, she worked hard and smiled through it all. Because in her heart, if not for Norman, she would've been on the street.

But Norman was rarely home.

He traveled often for business, and when he was gone, his mother and sister ruled the house. They never called her by name and never spoke without looking down their noses. She was "The orphan", "The help", "The girl Norman brought in". Every mistake, even imagined ones, was her fault.

She wasn't allowed to walk through the main hallways or sit on the living room furniture. Also, she had to eat in the kitchen, not the dining room.

But when Norman returned, even just for a day, the house changed. Mrs Lena would smile at her, Delaney would suddenly be kind and they would tell her to rest, to stop working, and wear nicer clothes.

They would call her "dear" or "sweet girl" like they had always cared. But Calla wasn't stupid. She knew the moment Norman left again, they'd return to who they really were.

But now... she wasn't locked in.

She could walk wherever she wanted as there was no one shouting at her for forgetting her place or spitting out the word "orphan" like it was dirt.

Julian had said nothing about rules. Though the mansion was cold and silent, it didn't feel like a prison. At least... not yet. But she couldn't help but wonder how long this freedom would last. It felt too good to be real.

Finally, she reached the kitchen and was welcomed by the smell of warm breakfast spread. Standing near the stove was an older woman stirring a pot. Her name was Greta, the estate's cook and housekeeper.

"Ah," She turned, smiling. "You're awake! Come, sit, sit. You must be starving."

Calla smiled shyly and obeyed, settling into the high-backed wooden chair by the center island.

"You must be the one I've been cooking for," Greta said warmly, scooping scrambled eggs into a plate, followed by toast, grilled tomatoes, and a few fresh strawberries. "The doctor said you would want something light to start, but the boss said to make sure you're well fed."

"The boss?" Calla tilted her head, taking the plate. "Mr. Voss?" 

"The very one. Said no bland hospital meals for the young lady under his roof."

Calla looked at the woman, surprised. The man had barely spoken to her. He was somewhat cold and distant, but still, he made sure she was eating well? He didn't even know her name or where she had come from.

"That's... that's so kind of him" 

Greta chuckled softly. "Mr. Voss is a good man when he wants to be, though not the affectionate type. You're lucky you landed on his soft side."

Calla's hand paused over her fork.

Lucky.

She suddenly thought about her past and how cruel everyone had been to her. How she mistook every polite word from Norman, every glance, and every small kindness from him as love.

"He chose me to carry his child," She had once believed. "That must mean something."

But it didn't mean anything. Not to him, not to his mother, and definitely not to Delaney. They had locked her in like a prisoner, humiliated her, and used her. And when she nearly died giving birth, all they gave her in return was a dead baby, a shredded cheque, and cruel words. She was less than nothing to them.

So, yes. Maybe this was luck.

Or fate.

****

The room was quiet except for the clinking of cutlery against plates. Julian had nearly finished his breakfast while occasionally glancing toward Calla, as if checking on her without intruding.

Meanwhile, Calla was nervous. 

She kept telling herself that it was just breakfast with a kind stranger, but that was no relief. After everything she had been through, kindness wasn't something she knew well. People didn't give without wanting something in return and the last thing she needed was falling into the hands of another Norman King.

Taking a deep breath, she tightened her fingers around her fork. The questions and conversation she'd planned in her mind over and over now seemed harder to say out loud.

"Do you need anything else?" Julian asked and stood up, buttoning the cuff of his shirt. 

Calla swallowed, then cleared her throat nervously. The sound seemed louder than she expected, but there was no turning back now.

"Mr. Voss..." He paused and turned toward her, giving her his full attention. "I just... I want to thank you. For everything. For taking me in, for the care, the medical attention... and for making sure I was well fed. I'm grateful."

Julian's expression remained blank, but he said nothing. He was running late for an important appointment, but he waited, letting her speak at her own pace.

"I imagined how this conversation would go... in my head, it was easy. I'd say everything perfectly," Calla continued and chuckled nervously, "But now, it feels... harder than I thought."

She looked down at her stomach and tried to steady her racing thoughts. There were a lot of things running through her mind and she knew she needed to heal first before she could talk about them. But healing... that seemed near impossible at the moment.

"I don't expect you to know what I've been through and I won't burden you with my past"

Julian nodded slowly, as if understanding without needing explanation. He didn't ask questions and didn't push either. Instead, he offered her a tiny smile.

"It's nothing. No woman should ever be treated like that. That's unforgivable."

Tears welled up in Calla's eyes, but she wiped them off before they could roll down her cheeks. She had sworn never to shed tears again and she was going to keep to that.

"Thank you, truly. For everything." She said again and stood up slowly. "You've done more than enough and I think... I'm ready to leave. I don't know where I'll go, but I can't stay here. I cannot be indebted to anyone else when I have nothing to pay back in return."

Julian studied her. 

Then, with a calm voice, he replied, "I don't need anything from you. You can stay here for as long as you want"

"No...no, you don't even know me. You don't know my name, my age, or where I came from."

That was a lie. 

Yes, he didn't know all about her, he didn't need to. But he knew the basic things like her name, Calla Ward. He had known that the very night he brought her into his mansion.

"It doesn't matter," Justin replied calmly. "All that matters is that you're safe and in good hands."

Calla gulped, unable to believe he was real. The man was too good to be true. The type she should probably run away from because he somehow represented the same thing that ruined her life.

But where would she go? How will she survive? At that moment, she knew she had to make a decision. It was either in or out.

"If I'm going to stay here, I don't want to remain a liability to you. I need my own money, I need my own house... but first, I need a job."

If she wanted revenge against the people who took everything from her and nearly ruined her life, she needed to start working towards it. She needed to establish herself somewhere to avoid being walked on all over again.

"I know I should've done this earlier," Calla said and took a deep breath. "But now, I'm ready to tell you everything you need to know about me."

Julian looked at her for some time. He saw the determination in her face and knew she was ready to start over again. 

"You're hired," he said. "You're my new personal assistant. And your interview starts now."

Calla’s eyes widened. That was fast. "Wait... aren't interviews supposed to come first?"

"I trust my instincts."

Calla smiled softly and motioned for him to have a seat. "Well then... It's going to be a long day, boss. You might want to grab a seat."