Chapter 33
Cressida held up the file, her eyes scanning the staff as she asked, “does anyone know what this is?”
The staff remained silent, deliberately turning their faces away to show disinterest.
A smile crept onto Amabel and Rowan’s lips as they exchanged a knowing glance—their plan already bearing fruit.
Amabel’s gaze dropped slightly, and she softly bit her upper lip, a hint of satisfaction crossing her face. Then her head snapped up, her expression transforming into a cold, stoic mask. “Your lives, your jobs, your fate in this household—it all lies in this file I hold. Anyone care to look?”
Rowan turned to Amabel, her brow furrowed in question. “What's she talking about?” She asked, but before Amabel could respond, Cressida continued, her words hanging in the air like a challenge.
“What most of you don't know is that my co-wife,” Cressida said, glancing over her shoulder at Amabel, “isn't the one who signs your paychecks. It’s Gage.”
The staff’s eyes widened in surprise, their mouths agape. “Ehn!” They exclaimed, their gazes darting to Amabel, expecting her to deny the claim. But instead, Amabel looked down, her secret exposed.
Cressida’s smile grew as she continued, “And what’s even more interesting is that your salaries come from Gage’s company, which I now manage. So, technically, your paychecks are coming from me,”
The staff's eyes grew even wider, their faces filled with a mix of shock and curiosity.
“Yes, you heard that right,” Cressida confirmed. “I just wanted to clarify things so you know whose orders to follow if you want to keep your jobs. So, ladies and gentlemen, who’s in charge now?”
The staff quickly bowed their heads, their voices in unison, “you, ma!”
“And whose orders will you follow from now on?” Cressida asked, her voice firm.
The staff responded in unison, “you, ma!”
Cressida’s expression softened slightly, a hint of approval on her face. “Good for you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, whose movements are you supposed to monitor? Whose conversations are you supposed to eavesdrop on? And most importantly, who are you reporting to?”
Without hesitation, the staff raised their hands, pointing at Amabel.
Amabel’s eyes slammed shut, a mixture of shock and disappointment on her face. “Hmm,” she muttered, clearly not expecting the staff to switch sides so readily.
She had always assumed they would remain loyal to her, no matter what. But now, they were more than willing to betray her.
“We’ll monitor her movements from now on!” The staff chimed in, Anna’s voice rising above the others, her tone almost gleeful.
“We’ll eavesdrop on her conversations,” they continued, Anna adding, “Whether in person or over the phone!”
The staff lowered their hands, shifting their gazes to Cressida before pointing at her. “And we’re to report directly to you!”
Cressida nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. “Perfect!”
She paused for a moment, adding a dramatic flair before continuing, “That’s not all. You need to know that I don’t need to offer you a bribe, but use your common sense,”
“Lose your job over the peanuts someone offered, or follow my instructions to keep your position in this household. The choice is yours,” she stated.
She raised a finger and continued. “But remember, jobs are scarce these days, and many would kill to work here, even for free. Use your brains, okay?”
The staff nodded in unison. “Okay, ma.”
Cressida’s gaze swept across the room. “Also, from now on, unless it’s me, you mustn’t honor anyone’s requests. No more emergency meetings, no running errands for anyone unless I’m present and authorize it,”
“You’re not even allowed to help anyone pick up a remote or get a glass of water. Got it?”
The staff responded in unison, “Yes, ma'am.”
Cressida’s instructions continued, “as for the kitchen, my co-wife is allowed to enter, but not her right-hand maid,”
“Anyone on duty who lets her in will face punishment, which I haven’t decided yet, but trust me, it’s not something anyone would want to face,” she declared. “The food timetable is nullified from this moment onward. Whoever wants to cook must consult me before even setting the fire.”
Amabel’s patience finally wore thin, and she scoffed, unable to contain herself any longer. She had been holding back to avoid further embarrassment in front of the staff, but Cressida’s latest instructions had gotten on her nerves.
“Don't you think you're overstepping your bounds?” Amabel questioned, her voice laced with annoyance. “We’ve been using a food timetable long before you arrived, so you can’t just waltz in and dictate whatever you want.”
Cressida turned around, her lips compressing into a thin line as she nodded. “Okay,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I can’t dictate, then step forward and show me how it’s done. Give them a command and see if they’ll obey you.”
Amabel’s jaw dropped, her face a picture of anger and frustration. She knew she’d lost control, and her only recourse was to grind her teeth in frustration, her anger evident on her face as she stared at Cressida.
Cressida stared back, a fearless smile playing on her lips. The tension between them was palpable for a moment before Cressida burst into a peal of laughter, covering her mouth with her hand before abruptly stopping.
She turned to the staff, her voice firm. “You can leave now.”
The maids quickly curtsied before rushing out, eager to indulge in their favorite pastime — gossiping.
After watching the last guard close the door behind him, Cressida raised her chin, her eyes locked on Amabel as she took slow, deliberate steps.
“Why do you insist on provoking me?” Amabel demanded, but Cressida didn’t turn to face her, yet her response was simple and unflappable.
“Because it’s fun.”
Amabel’s eyes narrowed as she caught Cressida’s profile, her smile infuriating. Amabel’s anger boiled over, and she couldn’t contain herself any longer.
Without the chairman's presence to restrain her, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She loosened her fist and strode towards Cressida’s back, her hand outstretched to grab Cressida’s hair. But before she could make contact, Cressida spun around and seized her hand, suspending it in mid-air.
“You want to pull my hair?” Cressida questioned, her voice laced with amusement.
With a harsh release, Cressida sent Amabel tumbling onto the sofa, her back thudding against the armrest before she rolled to the center.
“Ouch!” Amabel groaned.
Rowan rushed to her aid. But as she helped her stand, Amabel flung her hands away, her eyes blazing with fury.
“You...” she began, but her anger rendered her speechless.
Cressida’s calm demeanor was infuriating, her voice cool and collected. “Calm down, ma,” she said, shrugging with her arms outstretched and a hint of a smile on her lips. “Why are you so worked up because I followed your script?”
Amabel’s eyes flashed with indignation. “My script?!”
Cressida nodded, her smile unwavering. “Yes, your script,” she confirmed. “All I did was finish what you started, but didn't have the privilege to end. Is that a crime?”
Amabel’s face contorted with rage, her anger rendering her speechless. She opened her mouth to retort, but her mind was blank, her thoughts consumed by fury.
Cressida’s words fueled the fire, and Amabel’s expression mirrored the turmoil brewing inside her.
“You don't have to worry. I know I’m supposed to pay for messing with you, but unfortunately for you, I won’t,” Cressida said, her voice laced with confidence. “You can keep hoping, while I’ll be expecting your comeback. I’m curious to see what your next move will be,”
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Cressida added, “this is a twist... isn't it?”
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and sashayed into her room, the door slamming shut behind her.
As the sound echoed through the room, Rowan rushed to Amabel’s side, gently grasping her arm and guiding her to sit.
“Calm down, ma,” Rowan soothed, her voice calm and reassuring. “This isn’t the end. There’s surely a way out of this.” S
Amabel nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She looked up at Rowan, her eyes pleading. “I’m feeling pain in my head,” she complained, instructing, “get me water.”
Rowan’s expression turned questioning, her eyes wide with concern. “Ma?” She uttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Get me water.” Amabel repeated her request, but Rowan remained seated, her fear evident.
“Ma, have you forgotten what Cressida told the maids?” She whispered, her eyes darting towards the door. “I'm forbidden to enter the kitchen. The maids won’t allow me, and in this situation, no one will question them if they join hands to beat me like they’ve always wanted to.”
Amabel’s expression remained nonchalant, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of concern. “And what exactly does that mean?” She asked, already knowing the answer but seeking confirmation.
Rowan sprang to her feet, bowing her head in apology. “I’m sorry, ma,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can’t go into the kitchen right now, or I’ll get hurt. Please, I’m sorry.”
Amabel’s face furrowed in feigned ignorance. “Okay, so? What does that mean?”
Rowan’s eyes darted up. She gulped, her voice barely above a whisper. “No maid is allowed to attend to you, so you’ll have to get the water yourself.”
Amabel’s eyes widened in shock, her face draining of color. The reality of her situation hit her like a ton of bricks. She held her head in her hands, her mouth widely opened as she screamed.
“Argh!”