CHAPTER 4
1159 Words
The black Rolls-Royce glided silently through the deserted streets.
Inside, no one spoke.
Victoria sat stiffly in the corner of the back seat, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She stared out of the window, watching the city lights blur past, but she couldn't see them.
Her mind was still trapped in the ballroom.
"Take her."
Those two words echoed endlessly in her head.
A tear escaped her eye.
She quickly wiped it away.
She refused to cry anymore.
Across from her sat Derek.
He hadn't looked at her once since they left the hall.
His attention remained on the tablet resting on his lap as he casually reviewed several documents.
The silence was suffocating.
Finally.
Victoria couldn't bear it anymore.
"What..."
Her voice was barely audible.
"What are you going to do with me?"
No answer.
She swallowed.
"Are you going to..."
Her voice trembled.
"...sell me?"
Still nothing.
She laughed bitterly.
"I suppose it doesn't matter."
"I've already been sold once."
For the first time.
Derek lifted his eyes from the tablet.
His cold gaze settled on her.
"You talk too much."
Victoria lowered her head.
"I'm sorry."
Another long silence followed.
The car suddenly turned through a pair of massive iron gates.
Victoria looked outside.
Her eyes widened.
An enormous estate stretched as far as she could see.
The mansion stood proudly in the middle of perfectly manicured gardens.
Fountains danced beneath golden lights.
Luxury cars lined the driveway.
It looked less like a home.
And more like a palace.
The Rolls-Royce stopped.
A uniformed butler hurried forward and opened the door.
"Welcome home, Young Master."
Derek stepped out first.
Every servant standing outside immediately lowered their heads.
"Welcome home, Young Master."
More than thirty voices echoed together.
Victoria slowly climbed out of the car.
The servants looked at her curiously.
Who was this poorly dressed girl?
Why had the Young Master brought her home?
Whispers quietly spread through the line of servants.
"She's wearing torn clothes..."
"Did he rescue her?"
"She's beautiful..."
"Could she be the Young Master's woman?"
Victoria lowered her head in embarrassment.
She wanted to disappear.
Derek glanced at the servants.
Instantly.
The whispers stopped.
"If I hear another unnecessary word..."
His voice was calm.
"...everyone involved will be dismissed."
The courtyard fell silent.
Not even the wind seemed to move.
Derek walked toward the mansion.
Victoria hesitated.
One of the guards gently nodded.
"Miss... please."
She quickly followed.
Inside, the mansion was even more breathtaking.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
Ancient paintings decorated the walls.
Everything reflected unimaginable wealth.
Victoria instinctively looked down at her worn shoes.
She felt dirty.
Like she didn't belong.
Halfway up the grand staircase, Derek stopped without turning around.
"Mrs. Evelyn."
A middle-aged woman stepped forward immediately.
"Yes, Young Master."
"Prepare a room."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Buy her clothes."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Arrange for a doctor."
Victoria looked up in surprise.
A doctor?
Derek finally turned around.
His eyes briefly fell on her injured hands the cuts, the bruises, and the dried blood from Clara's heels.
"Treat every wound."
His tone remained emotionless.
"Even the ones she refuses to mention."
Victoria stared at him.
No one.
Not once in her life.
Victoria barely slept.
The room was larger than the entire servants' quarters she had lived in at the Kane residence.
The soft mattress felt strange beneath her body.
She had spent so many years sleeping on a thin mat on the floor that comfort itself felt unfamiliar.
Every time she closed her eyes.
She saw her father's face.
"Take her."
Those two words replayed endlessly in her mind.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
Knock.
Knock.
"Miss Victoria?"
A gentle female voice came from outside.
"It's time for breakfast."
Victoria hurriedly wiped away the tears on her face.
"I'm coming."
She opened the door.
Standing outside was Mrs. Evelyn, accompanied by several maids.
Each maid carried expensive shopping bags.
Mrs. Evelyn smiled politely.
"Young Master asked us to prepare these for you."
Victoria frowned.
"For... me?"
The maids carefully placed the bags on the bed.
Designer dresses.
Shoes.
Jewelry.
Perfume.
Everything looked unimaginably expensive.
Victoria instinctively stepped back.
"There must be a mistake."
Mrs. Evelyn shook her head.
"Young Master never makes mistakes."
"But..."
"I can't accept these."
Mrs. Evelyn smiled.
"You don't have a choice."
Victoria lowered her head.
She felt like a bird placed inside a golden cage.
Downstairs.
The dining room was silent.
A table long enough to seat thirty people was filled with an extravagant breakfast.
Yet only one person sat there.
Derek.
He calmly read the morning newspaper while sipping black coffee.
Victoria hesitated at the doorway.
"Come."
His deep voice broke the silence.
She slowly walked over.
"Sit."
She obeyed.
Neither of them spoke.
Victoria stared at the food.
She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten a proper meal.
Her stomach growled softly.
Embarrassed, she lowered her head.
Derek folded his newspaper.
"Eat."
She looked at him cautiously.
"Aren't, aren't you eating?"
"I already have."
Victoria slowly picked up a spoon.
She took one bite.
Then another.
Soon she was eating so quickly that she forgot where she was.
Halfway through the meal.
She suddenly stopped.
Tears filled her eyes.
Derek looked at her.
"What now?"
She smiled bitterly.
"I just realized..."
"This is the first time anyone has ever prepared breakfast for me."
Silence.
Derek continued drinking his coffee.
His expression didn't change.
But his grip on the cup tightened ever so slightly.
After a long pause, he spoke.
"Do you know when your birthday is?"
Victoria blinked.
"My birthday?"
She nodded.
"It's... July 18."
Derek's gaze sharpened.
"Who told you that?"
"My father."
"Mr. Kane?"
She nodded again.
"Since I was little."
Derek leaned back in his chair.
"No."
Victoria frowned.
"What?"
"That's not your birthday."
Her heartbeat quickened.
"What are you talking about?"
"The Kanes gave you that date."
He looked directly into her eyes.
"But it isn't the day you were born."
Victoria's spoon slipped from her hand.
The metallic clang echoed through the dining room.
"What..."
"...are you saying?"
Instead of answering, Derek reached into his briefcase.
He removed an old, weathered envelope.
Its edges were yellow with age.
Across the front was written one name.
Victoria.
Derek slid it across the table.
"This belonged to your mother."
Victoria stared at the envelope.
Her hands trembled.
"My..."
"...mother?"
She had never owned anything that belonged to her mother.
Not a photograph.
Not a necklace.
Not even a memory.
Slowly.
She reached for the envelope.
Just before her fingers touched it.
Derek placed his hand on top of it.
"Once you read what's inside..."
His voice was calm.
"...your life will never be the same again."
Victoria froze.
Her heart pounded violently inside her chest.
Who was her mother?
Why did Derek have her belongings?
And why did it feel as though every answer would destroy the life she thought she knew?
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