Episode 7
1002 Words
The morning came quietly, but the silence in the mansion was deceptive — it was the kind of silence that carried tension, not peace.
The servants moved about in hushed tones, careful not to draw attention to themselves. Everyone knew that since Mr. Martin had left for the UK, David had changed into someone they barely recognized — cruel, impatient, and unpredictable.
He had become the kind of man who believed power meant fear.
That morning, Lydia was up early. She swept the corridors, polished the vases, and arranged the fresh flowers in the living room — tasks that once gave her peace but now felt like survival. Every time she heard David’s voice, her heart raced. She had learned to stay invisible, to move quickly and quietly.
As she placed a new bouquet on the table, David entered the living room, dressed in a crisp white shirt and holding his phone. He was on a call, his tone sharp.
“I told you to transfer the funds today, not next week! I don’t care what the accountant says — I make the decisions now!” he barked before ending the call abruptly.
He turned, noticing Lydia standing there. His eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing just standing there like a statue?”
“I—I was arranging the flowers, sir,” Lydia said softly.
David walked over, picked one of the flowers, and crushed it between his fingers. “You call this arrangement? My father spends millions on this mansion, and this is what you do?”
Lydia lowered her head, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll fix it.”
He leaned closer. “You better. Or I’ll have you sleeping outside tonight.”
Before he could walk away, Jacob entered from the hallway. His expression darkened instantly at the sight of Lydia trembling.
“David, that’s enough,” Jacob said, his tone calm but firm. “You don’t have to talk to her like that.”
David chuckled bitterly. “Here we go again — my holy brother defending the help.”
“Someone has to,” Jacob replied. “You’ve changed, David. This isn’t leadership. It’s cruelty.”
David’s eyes glinted with anger. “Leadership? Don’t lecture me, Jacob. You’re nothing but a stray my father pitied. Don’t act like you belong here.”
The words hit hard, but Jacob didn’t flinch. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “Maybe I don’t belong here — but at least I know how to treat people with respect.”
David scoffed, brushing past him. “Respect doesn’t build empires, brother. Power does.”
After David left, the air seemed to ease a little. Lydia stood still, her hands shaking as she tried to rearrange the flowers again.
Jacob approached her gently. “You shouldn’t let him get to you,” he said softly.
Lydia looked up, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m trying… but it’s hard.”
Jacob offered a reassuring smile. “He’s angry at the world, not you. Don’t lose your strength because of him.”
She nodded, and their eyes met for a brief, quiet moment — one filled with unspoken gratitude.
“Thank you, sir,” she said finally.
Jacob shook his head. “It’s Jacob. Call me Jacob.”
Her lips parted slightly. “I… I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”
He smiled faintly. “Sometimes what’s right isn’t what’s easy.”
As the day went on, David continued his rampage — shouting at workers, firing one of the drivers for arriving late, and yelling at the cook for serving cold food.
By evening, the house felt suffocating. The staff moved like ghosts, afraid to make a sound.
Jacob spent most of his time in his room, reading through company reports, making quiet plans to keep things stable while his father was away. He already noticed discrepancies in the company’s finances — small missing amounts that hinted at David’s recklessness.
He decided not to confront him yet. Instead, he’d watch and wait.
But as the sun dipped below the horizon, a faint sound reached his ears — someone crying softly.
He followed the sound down the corridor and found Lydia sitting by the back door, holding her hand against her face.
“Lydia?” he said gently.
She looked up quickly, trying to hide her tears. “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t have to apologize for crying,” Jacob said, walking closer. “What happened?”
She hesitated. “Mr. David… he poured water on me in front of his friends because I dropped a glass by mistake.”
Jacob’s jaw tightened. “He did what?”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “Please don’t say anything. It’ll only make him worse.”
Jacob knelt beside her. “He shouldn’t be allowed to treat you like this. No one should.”
She looked into his eyes, her voice trembling. “Why are you so kind to me, Jacob?”
He smiled faintly. “Because kindness is the only thing this house is missing right now.”
For the first time in weeks, Lydia smiled — small and fragile, but real.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Jacob stood, offering her his hand. “Come on. You need to eat something. I’ll ask the cook to prepare dinner.”
She took his hand slowly, standing up. For a moment, their fingers lingered, and an unspoken connection passed between them — soft, fleeting, but powerful.
Later that night, as Jacob walked her to her room, David watched from the balcony above, his eyes narrowing. He had seen the brief moment between them — the way Jacob looked at her, the way Lydia smiled at him.
A smirk twisted his lips.
“So, the stray has fallen for the maid,” he muttered to himself. “Interesting.”
From that night onward, his cruelty would grow — not just from pride, but from jealousy.
- Writer
