Untitled
730 Words
Raymond POV
I hated noise.
Unnecessary laughter, careless chatter, sounds that disrupted order. This mansion ran on discipline, not comfort. Everyone knew that.
So when the laughter drifted in again—light, careless, and undeniably hers—I felt something twist inside me.
I shut my laptop harder than necessary.
From my study window, I could see the courtyard clearly. Lisa sat among the maids as if she had always belonged there, her posture relaxed, her expression animated. She laughed openly, tossing her head back like she had nothing weighing her down.
That annoyed me.
Not because it was wrong.
But because it was effortless.
I had not given permission for familiarity.
I stepped out of the study, my presence enough to straighten spines and still conversations. The laughter died instantly as the staff noticed me. Lisa noticed last.
Her smile faded slowly, not in fear, but in recognition.
Good.
“Who is responsible for this gathering?” I asked calmly.
No raised voice. No anger. Just control.
The maids exchanged glances. One of them stepped forward, trembling. “S–Sir, we were on break—”
“This is not a marketplace,” I cut in. “You are not here to socialize.”
Silence.
“You,” I said, pointing at the group. “The laundry wing needs to be reorganized. By hand. No assistance. Until nightfall.”
Shock flashed across their faces.
Lisa’s eyes widened. “That’s excessive.”
I turned to her slowly. “This does not concern you.”
“It does,” she said firmly, stepping forward. Bold. Predictable. “They didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one talking.”
I ignored her.
The maids hesitated, unsure whether to move.
“Now,” I said.
They bowed hurriedly and rushed off, fear written all over them.
Lisa stared at me, disbelief turning into anger. “You’re punishing them because of me.”
I adjusted my cuffs. “They forgot their place.”
“And what about me?” she demanded. “Is my place to watch innocent people suffer for laughing?”
Her voice echoed in the hall.
I didn’t answer.
She moved closer, standing directly in front of me. Too close. Too fearless. “Raymond,” she said, lowering her voice, “please. Forgive them. I’ll apologize. I’ll do anything.”
Anything.
The word echoed in my mind, sharp and unwelcome.
I looked past her. “Leave.”
Her hands clenched. “You’re cruel.”
Silence stretched between us.
I did not respond.
Not because I had nothing to say—but because if I did, control would slip.
She laughed bitterly. “Fine.”
Then she did something unexpected.
She turned and followed the maids.
I frowned. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She stopped but didn’t turn back. “If they’re being punished for me, then I’ll help them.”
“That is not necessary.”
She finally faced me, eyes blazing. “No. It is.”
Before I could stop her, she walked away.
I watched her disappear down the corridor leading to the service wing.
I told myself it didn’t matter.
I told myself it was irrelevant.
But something churned inside my chest.
Hours later, curiosity—or irritation—drove me there.
The laundry wing was hot, humid, filled with the smell of soap and fabric. The maids worked silently, hands red and tired.
And there she was.
Lisa.
Sleeves rolled up, hair tied back messily, sweat glistening on her forehead as she scrubbed stubborn stains like she had something to prove.
One of the maids whispered, “Miss Lisa, please rest—”
“I’m fine,” she said, smiling weakly. “We’ll finish faster together.”
That smile hit harder than it should have.
She noticed me watching.
Her expression hardened. She didn’t stop working.
Not once did she ask for mercy again.
Not once did she look away.
I stood there longer than necessary, anger mixing with something far more dangerous.
Defiance.
Loyalty.
Strength.
Traits I did not tolerate.
And yet… I admired them.
When night fell, the punishment ended. The maids bowed gratefully to Lisa, whispering thanks.
She ignored me completely as she walked past, exhaustion evident in every step.
For the first time in a long while, something slipped beyond my control.
And I hated that it was her.
- Writer
