Episode 6
922 Words
The following week passed in slow torment for everyone in the mansion. What began as a few small parties thrown by David had now turned into wild nightly events that consumed the once peaceful house. The marble floors that once echoed with calm footsteps were now stained with spilled drinks, cigarette ash, and laughter that carried no joy.
Every evening, luxurious cars pulled up at the gate — flashy vehicles driven by men and women whose only mission was to indulge David’s pride and vanity. They drank, smoked, danced, and shouted through the night. The staff had grown weary, cleaning up after his chaos every dawn.
But the one who suffered most was Lydia.
David had turned his cruelty into entertainment. He ordered her around in front of his friends, mocking her whenever she hesitated or made a mistake.
“Lydia! Bring more ice!”
“Yes, sir.”
“No, not that one — the clean ice, you i***t!”
Each insult cut deeper than the last, but Lydia endured silently. She reminded herself that this was a test — a test her father, Mr. Victor, and Mr. Martin had set up to know who David truly was.
But as the days dragged on, she began to wonder if this test was worth the pain.
One Friday evening, the house was louder than usual. Music boomed through the speakers. David was seated in the middle of the living room, surrounded by half a dozen of his friends. Bottles of wine and beer littered the table.
Jacob, coming down the stairs, froze at the sight. He had warned David only two days ago to stop using company funds for his personal pleasure, but his warnings were ignored.
“David,” he said sternly, “you’re crossing the line.”
David turned his head lazily. “Oh, the voice of reason arrives again. Care for a drink, saint Jacob?”
Jacob frowned. “You’ve spent over two hundred thousand in one week. This isn’t your money. It belongs to the company — to Father’s sweat!”
David slammed his glass on the table, splashing wine on Lydia, who was passing by with a tray. “And who gave you the right to lecture me about my father’s company?”
Jacob’s fists tightened. “I’m not lecturing you, I’m warning you. You’re destroying everything he built.”
David stood, his expression cold and proud. “I’m his only son. I can do whatever I want.”
The words stung Jacob deeply, but he refused to react. “Being his son doesn’t mean you can ruin his legacy.”
David took a step closer, sneering. “You’re jealous because no matter what you do, you’ll never be more than the stray he picked up from the streets.”
Jacob clenched his jaw but remained calm. “You should get some rest, David. You’ve had too much to drink.”
David laughed mockingly. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you? You think Father trusts you more? Let me tell you something, Jacob — when he comes back, you’ll be out of this house. I’ll make sure of it.”
Jacob said nothing more. He simply turned and walked away, his heart heavy.
As he disappeared down the hallway, Lydia’s eyes followed him. She felt an ache in her chest — a quiet sympathy she couldn’t explain.
Later that night, the party ended in a drunken mess. David and his friends had passed out in the living room. Lydia and the other maids began cleaning the bottles and broken glasses.
As she worked, she heard a noise from the hallway — someone groaning softly.
She followed the sound and found Jacob sitting at the bottom of the stairs, head in his hands.
“Sir Jacob?” she said gently.
He looked up, surprised. “Lydia… why aren’t you asleep?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted softly. “The noise was too much. And I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Jacob smiled faintly, though sadness clouded his eyes. “I’m fine. Just tired — of everything.”
She hesitated, then asked, “Why do you always defend me? Every time he insults me, you stand up for me. You don’t even know who I am.”
Jacob looked at her for a long moment. “Because no one deserves to be treated like that. Not you, not anyone. Kindness doesn’t need a reason, Lydia.”
Her heart fluttered. “You’re… different from him.”
Jacob chuckled softly. “That’s what Father used to tell me. He said blood doesn’t make a family — actions do.”
Lydia lowered her gaze. “You’re a good man, Jacob. I wish your brother could see what I see.”
He sighed. “I wish he could too.”
As the night deepened, silence filled the mansion again — but it was not peace. It was the heavy silence that comes after storms, the kind that hides both pain and secrets.
In one part of the house, David lay asleep among the wreckage of his choices.
In another, Jacob sat quietly, his thoughts clouded with worry about the company, about Lydia, and about his father’s return.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, Lydia whispered a silent prayer — that one day, the truth would come to light, and justice would find its way back into that broken home.
But fate was not done with them yet.
This was only the beginning of the storm.
- Writer
