บททั้งหมดของ The Waiting Lady's Affair.: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Lila’s stomach churned as she sat in the small, cramped room they’d been moved to. She looked around, feeling more like a prisoner than a maid. The bed was small and the walls felt like they were closing in on her. After the way things had blown up with Isabel earlier, she wasn’t sure if she’d get any peace tonight—or if Alexander would be showing up to deal with them himself. A maid had brought dinner with a quick, annoyed look, saying Mrs. Harrington was so upset with them for embarrassing her in front of her friend today. As if that lady wasn’t already humiliating herself, stuffing her face like she hadn’t eaten for days! Lila fumed, stabbing her fork into the food. All this was because of Isabel and her big mouth. She hadn’t spoken to her since, but had noticed her shadow pacing outside a little while ago. And now, suddenly, it was quiet. Lila’s thoughts shifted to Alexander. She wondered if he’d been told about the fight yet. Did he think she was a troublemaker? She felt a sh

The morning sun streamed through the thin curtains of Mrs. Harrington’s room as Lila brushed her hair, trying her best to keep her expression neutral. But her mind was a storm of anger. Last night was burned into her memory—the way Alexander’s cold blue eyes had fixated on her as he ravished Isabel, the smug look on Isabel’s face as she soaked in the pleasure he gave her. He wanted Lila to watch, wanted her to feel every ounce of jealousy and shame. And it worked. She tugged a bit too hard at a knot in Mrs. Harrington’s hair, her grip tightening unconsciously. “Careful!” Mrs. Harrington hissed, wincing as she jerked her head away. Lila blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Apologies, my lady,” she replied, her voice flat, not bothering to feign the usual fear or submission. She was far too upset for that. Mrs. Harrington narrowed her eyes at Lila in the mirror. “And where is that girl, Isabel?” she asked, a hint of irritation seeping into her voice. It was unlike Isabel to be

Lila paced back and forth in her small, dimly lit room, the only sound the soft creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. Her head was pounding from the anxiety, her thoughts swirling with anger and jealousy. She didn’t know how long she’d been awake, staring at the walls, ears straining to catch the slightest sound. She wasn’t even sure what time it was anymore, only that it was late enough for the rest of the house to be in silence. But she couldn’t sleep, not when her mind was so full of questions. Would he go to her room? What would he do once he got there? The thought of Alexander with Isabel made her stomach twist painfully. Would he punish her for the chaos earlier, or would he give her pleasure just like he had done for Lila? The idea was maddening. She felt like she was losing her grip, and a dull ache started to form behind her eyes. Finally, she stopped pacing, her breath hitching as she heard it: the faintest sound of footsteps in the hallway. Her heart jumped to her

Lila’s pacing grew frantic as she strained her ears in the quiet hallway, listening for any sound. Her heart hammered in her chest when the hallway grew dead silent as if Alexander had never walked in. She crept to her door and cracked the door open slightly, she peeked in, her breath catching when she saw Alexander’s head buried between Isabel’s legs. Her hand clenched the doorframe, her knuckles white. The sight of him with Isabel ignited a seething rage within her. She hated Isabel, hated how easily she was taking her place in Alexander’s heart. The only way to get rid of her for good was to expose this betrayal. It would shake the entire mansion, but she was willing to cause an earthquake to prove that she was more worthy of Alexander’s attention. With a deep breath, Lila made her decision. She hurried down the dimly lit hallway, her steps purposeful, heading towards the grand wing of the mansion where the Harrington’s slept. She reached Mrs. Harrington’s bedroom door, hesitat

A week had passed since that catastrophic night. It felt like the entire mansion was walking on eggshells, trying to pick up the pieces of an explosion that had shattered everything. The house was no longer the lively place it once was. Now, it was eerie and quiet. Every step seemed to echo like a warning.Victoria had moved out of the master bedroom, choosing to sleep in one of the guest rooms instead. The servants whispered about how she had cried herself to sleep each night, her pillow soaked with tears. When she did leave her room, her eyes were red and swollen, and she looked like a ghost of herself. She was a mess—broken and lost. Her once sharp, commanding presence had dulled, leaving behind only a shell of the woman she used to be. Her anger had turned cold, silent, and dangerous. The servants made sure to steer clear, afraid of becoming the target of her wrath. No one dared speak unless spoken to, and they jumped at even the smallest sound.Alexander, on the other hand, had b