CHAPTER THREE
547 Words
She knelt on the marble of the main corridor, pushing a wet cloth across the stone, when the sharp sound of heels approached.
A cold weight settled in her gut.
"Well, well", Sienna spoke in a tone of pretend sugar. "If it isn't the little mouse. I didn't realise you were allowed in the main house during the day"
Amara stared at the tiles but also kept the mop moving. "I'm cleaning, Miss Blackwood"
"Miss Blackwood," Sienna said again in a derisive tone. "Very formal. You know, you can call me Sienna. We are practically family, after all.
It was astounding how cruel that statement was. Family. "Yes, Miss Blackwood," Amara muttered, as though she were merely a possession in this home.
With her high-end heels clicking menacingly, Sienna took a step closer. "You missed a spot," Sienna said, indicating a section of the floor that was obviously already clean. "I'll get it," Amara said, moving her mop to the designated area. She was wearing a white pantsuit that most likely cost more than Amara had ever made in her life, and her platinum hair was styled in perfect waves, and her makeup was flawless.
Sienna said, "No, no," and before Amara could respond, she had kicked over a pail of soiled water.
It soaked Amara's shoes and the hem of her dress as it spread in a grey wave across the floor. With a knife-sharp smile, Sienna said, "Oops." "How foolish of me. That needs to be cleaned up before Dante notices. He detests mess.
With her hands clenched around the handle of the mop, Amara stood there dripping. She felt like screaming, splashing Sienna's flawless face with filthy water, and telling her how she truly felt about her and her cruelty.
However, she didn't. She was unable to. She had no money, no options, and nowhere else to go. She had nothing but this gilded cage.
She said, "Yes, Miss Blackwood," in a voice that was hardly audible above a whisper.
With a tinkling sound akin to glass breaking, Sienna laughed. "I had that thought. Don't you know where you belong? You are nothing, even though Dante brought you here. You will never be anything. A servant. A debt payment. I'm going to be Mrs Moretti while I—" she pointed to herself. You'll still be cleaning the floors in this house when I move in as its mistress."
Her perfume overpowered her as she leaned closer. "You know, he doesn't even see you. You're just furniture to him. Not as much as furniture. At least furniture has a function.
Her heels clicked triumphantly on the marble as she turned and walked away.
Amara fought back tears as she stood there for a considerable amount of time. She refused to cry. Sienna wouldn't get that satisfaction from her.
Rather, she knelt and started tidying up the mess, her movements robotic, her mind meticulously blank.
Now this was her life. She had turned into this.
However, a tiny, rebellious voice murmured in the back of her mind as she worked: He saw your pastries. He consumed them. Once more, he requested them.
It was a pitiful little thing to hold on to. However, it was something.
And something was better than nothing in this house.
- Writer
