The Scorned Heiress' Revenge

It was yet another painful evening in the Clinton family, for the servants who prayed day and night, to see the end to the fights and schemes of one of the wealthiest and influential dysfunctional families in Snow city.

Just like every other servant, 22 years old Saffron went about with her chores in the kitchen, but for some reason, she had been having an ominous feeling ever since she woke up that morning. However, she brushed the feeling off, assuming It was going to be another hellish fight between the Clintons again. So she made provisions to seek a day off tomorrow morning to escape whatever might be happening in the family, because, when the Clintons fight, the servants don’t escape the aftermath.

Everyone in the Clinton family walks on pins daily, fearing that they might fall into the family’s unending schemes to bring one another down, so who was Saffron to not be scared for her puny life?

One might ask, what are the Clintons fighting for? Well, the Clintons owned a large chunk of the country’s prosperous businesses. They are influential and very powerful, which is why the four children of the family had been on each other’s throats for years, which directly or indirectly affected everyone in the family, including the workers.

Even though the Clintons are the most toxic people Saffron has ever worked for, leaving the job wasn’t an option as she was well paid. Most importantly, she desperately needed the money to buy her freedom at the orphanage she grew up in.

Lost in a trance while putting the kitchen in order, an elderly man’s voice pulled her back to reality.

“Saffron, prepare a hangover soup and send it to Young Master Caspian’s bedroom. He would be home any moment from now. It’d be better for you if he doesn’t meet you in his room. Also, don’t ask me about Gerald, I learned he’s absent for today.” The Butler, an elderly man, instructed stoically before leaving to see what the other servants were up to.

Saffron was one of the many chefs in the mansion and was mandated to cook whatever was asked of her but hearing that she was to make a soup for Caspian, she grew cold feet and couldn’t find her voice to respond to the Butler and just watched him leave.

Saffron was not a talkative nor a happy person, but she tries her best to blend in with the rest of the workers. But when it concerns the children of the Clinton family, she turns jelly. Not just her, almost every worker in the mansion lose their spirit and morale when standing in front of any of the Clintons... Especially the ever–angry First Young Master Caspian.

Lost in her own train of thoughts for a while, she was pulled back from her stupor when she remembered the butler’s later statement, ‘It’d be better for you if he doesn’t meet you in his room...’

By the time Saffron finished preparing the hangover soup and sending it to the First Young Master’s bedroom, it was already 8 PM; A few minutes before she gets off work.

When she entered the dark room with the keys she took from the Butler, she maneuvered her left hand through the wall until she found the switch.

Turning the lights on, Saffron gasped. The well furnished and sophisticated room looked like an aftermath of where thugs fought; shards of glasses, clothes, shoes, and ashes from cigarettes littered the floor, urging Saffron to get to work.

First Young Master is not one to require someone to clean after him. He is almost allergic to dirty environments, but with his recent situation, it called for how his room had turned out, and Saffron didn’t fail to understand that.

Although it is not in Saffron’s line of work to clean Caspian’s room, but Saffron couldn’t turn a blind eye. Even though she was warned to not let Caspian meet her, she thought she’d be able to finish in time before he returned.

Placing the tray on the small drawer close to the bed, Saffron went back to look for cleaning tools. A moment later, she returned and took about ten minutes arranging the room and keeping it sparkling clean.

She turned off the lights and was about to leave when the door was forced open with a ruthless kick before someone staggered in, wrecked. The smell of liquor was so strong that Saffron, who hated alcohol, almost puked. She held her nose and tried to sneak past the person, but failed.

“Who are you?!” He thundered.

Saffron froze for a moment before she tried to speak but her voice failed her. “I– I’m– I’m Saffron,” she fumbled with the simple introduction that refused to come out freely like they used to.

Of course, he’s always this aggressive when he finds an unwelcomed guest in his space.

“This is my room!”

“Y– yes, Young Ma– master. I was asked to– to…” her voice trailed off when he began to take small steps toward her.

Saffron’s heart plummeted and her breath quickened. The closer he got, the thicker the smell of alcohol, and the faster her heart raced. She tried not to be disgusted as she held her breath.

“Did my brothers put you up to this?”

“N– n– no, no, Young– Ahhhh!” She screamed as he slammed her back against the cold wall and yanked her uniform from the front, causing a few buttons to hit the floor. Thanks to what he did, she accidentally turned on the lights.

The specimen in front of her was drop dead gorgeous with chiseled jaw and his long and thick bangs covering half of his face. But Saffron didn’t dare to admire his beauty as she immediately lowered her gaze. The fierce and deadly aura he was exuding was too strong for a weak woman like her to embrace.

His sharp eyes that seemed as though they could pierce into one’s soul, trailed down her body for a while, stopping on her opened chest before his icy voice drifted into her ears. “You were sent here to seduce me, weren’t you?”

Saffron’s legs were already failing to support her weight but she didn’t dare to succumb to her weakness. Even though she’s had a strong crush on him for decades, this is the first time she’d spoken to him this up-close. His coldness chilled her heart.

“N– no Young Master. I– I was sent… sent here to bring you a bowl of hangover so– soup,” she managed to say. It wasn’t clear if she was too scared that she lost her confidence or because she’s speaking to the man she never thought would ever say ‘nay’ to her.

“Did I ask for it?” His voice went a tad low but that was neither good news to Saffron. When he is calm, it is always the calm before the storm… one which they all dread!

“The butler asked me to send it.”

“Drink it all.” With that said, he veered around and headed for the bathroom.

Saffron swallowed and breathed a sigh of relief after his suffocating aura drifted after him. She took the rare opportunity to stare longingly at his disappearing back and her lips soon fell apart as she watched him slowly disappear into the bathroom door.

She knew how dangerous it is to keep loving this man. She was well aware that even though his fiance just died a few days ago, she has no hope of filling the vacuum she left behind, still, Saffron can’t help it.

She snapped out of it and remembered what she was asked to do. She was asked to drink the hangover soup… What the…?! Anyway, what did she expect from a careful person like Caspian?

With those thoughts running through her mind, she went to carry the tray of soup, hoping to leave the room before he returned but just as she walked to the door, about to leave, his subordinate stepped in and blocked her exit. It was Gerald!

“Master asked you to drink it, so do before you leave,” the guy said with his stoic face that housed glaring eyes.

“Gerald?” didn’t the butler say he was absent? The ever-so-serious Gerald is the only one Caspian allows to do his chores for him. No one is allowed to clean, or run errands for him, unless it’s Gerald.

If he’s here, then why did the butler lie to her? Saffron didn’t think deep into it. ‘The family members are unpredictable, it might be that Gerald was truly off work and just returned,’ she thought. The most important thing right now was to obey him, else she might be mistaken for an enemy.

Without wasting words, Saffron drank the soup in a few gulps, though she hates bland and hot soup.

“Can I go now?” She asked.

Gerald glanced at his watch and said; “Ten minutes.”

She sighed in frustration. “I didn’t spike the soup or anything. I paid rapt attention to the soup every minute and second of the time I took to prepare it. I don’t want the gates to my quarters to be closed with me still out.” She tried to reason but Gerald was busy staring at his wrist watch as it ticked away.

Saffron sighed again. She was confident that she didn’t spike the soup and that she’d be fine. But what if she just dug her own grave?