Chapter 58 AN EXPERIENCE WITH MRS DRAVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
I stayed at the far end of the kitchen, hands submerged in soapy water, scrubbing plates.
My eyes stung, hot tears threatening to fall, but I fought them anyway. I was supposed to stay inside, invisible, like a shadow that didn’t exist, and I obeyed. Master had made it clear. Stay out of sight. Out of mind. I thought he hated me, truly hated me, but maybe… maybe he understood his mother.
I was trying to rearrange my room when I heard a knock on my door.
“Yess… I’m coming,” I said, my voice quiet, careful.
Before I could even reach the door, it burst open. She was there, standing in the doorway, eyes wild, and then her hand connected with my face. Hard. Sharp. I stumbled back, hitting the bed with a grunt.
“What did you give my son?” she demanded, voice raw and dangerous.
Nanny appeared behind her, silent, a gentle hand raised in caution, signaling me to stay calm. I was too numb to respond. Nothing she could do compared to the humiliation I had already endured—the sanctuary, Kane’s punishments, Liam’s betrayal on my wedding night. I had felt my heart break in ways I couldn’t even name.
“Are you deaf?” she roared, the volume shaking the room. “Do you even understand that I could feed you to the dogs?”
“Nothing… ma,” I said, my voice small, trembling.
She stared at me, her gaze sharp, slicing through me with a mix of anger and curiosity.
“Do you know Sally?” she asked suddenly, and I shook my head.
“No, ma. I don’t,” I said quietly.
“I know you do, dear,” she snapped, stepping closer, her hand gripping my hair with a ferocity that made my scalp burn. “Don’t lie to me when I’m talking to you. You can’t have her face and not look like her. Just tell me this is God’s way of paying me back for what I did.”
“No, ma,” I whispered again, feeling my throat tighten.
Before I could process it, she yanked me across the room, dragging me by my hair. I didn’t fight back. I closed my eyes and braced for the pain, letting it wash over me in waves. Her fingers scratched at my hands as she threw me onto the bed, hard.
“You are a mutate,” she spat, the word cutting deeper than any slap. “You should know your place. Why aren’t you working? Why aren’t you dressed in a mutt’s clothes? Why are you living in luxury? Is that why my son is going soft on you?”
She called out to the maids passing by. “Take everything off her wardrobe. Her phone too. Nanny, give her uniforms. Let her start working again.”
Tears rushed down my cheeks, hot and unstoppable. I looked up, and what I saw broke me in a way I hadn’t expected.
Micky stood there, eyes wide, hands trembling. She stared at me, her own tears flowing, and before I could speak, she ran upstairs.
“Are you certain she isn't by any chance related to Sally” I could hear her say to Nanny as i try to change
“Trust me, I've done all the investigations I could carry out, Kane has too. She isn't. She bears a typical resemblance that is way easy to ignore”
I overheard them say but I kept quiet anyway, removing my clothes, one after the other.
I changed quickly into the uniform she handed me, the fabric rough against my skin, a constant reminder of the place I was trapped in. I could feel their amusement, the cruel joy of the other maids, the satisfaction in their laughter.
“Did you see Master’s supposed-to-be wife?” one sneered. “She’s beautiful. Surely she’ll make a good wife and not a mutate” I sank to the back, hiding in a shadowy corner, tears streaming freely now. The taunts cut deeper than anything physical. The humiliation was relentless, and I let myself cry, the sobs wracking my body in shame and helplessness.
I stayed there, hunched and trembling, until I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. My heart stopped for a moment.
He’s back?
Surprise hit me like a stone. More tears slipped down my face, silent at first, then uncontrolled. Not that he would do anything. He never came to aid me in moments like this. I had learned long ago not to hope.
He walked straight toward me. I could hear the deliberate steps, the calm yet commanding presence that always seemed to fill a room. My chest tightened, a mixture of fear, anticipation, and a tiny, stubborn flicker of hope.
He stopped in front of me, eyes sharp and unreadable. For a second, the world seemed to hold its breath. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. I wanted to speak, to beg, to explain, but my voice failed me. I could barely lift my head.