HIS DARK SECRET

Chapter6

Kiran’s POV

The glass shards of the teacup were still scattered on the floor, glinting like jagged diamonds under the harsh kitchen spotlights.

I leaned against the counter, watching her—Clara—scramble to pick them up.

Her small hands were shaking so violently I could hear the porcelain clicking against the tile.

I should have felt a flicker of guilt, but honestly? It was interesting.

My life was a monotonous cycle of cold boardrooms and the chemical haze of drugs.

This "little rat" my aunt had dropped into my house was the first thing in months that actually made me feel... awake.

The Next Morning

I woke up with the familiar, dull throb behind my eyes.

I knew the rat would be in the kitchen, probably terrified to breathe the same air as me.

I wanted to break her spirit today. I wanted her to work until she realized that begging me for mercy was her only option.

I wasn't going to the office—at least not yet. It was the perfect time to play with my new toy.

As I sat in the high-backed velvet chair in the parlor, she appeared.

She was moving quietly, like she was trying to blend into the wallpaper.

She set my coffee down with trembling fingers. I noticed a small adhesive plaster wrapped around her thumb—likely from the glass I’d shattered yesterday.

I didn't care.

"Make my breakfast," I said, my voice cutting through the silence.

She froze, her eyes widening in genuine shock. "Sir?"

"Are you deaf? i said you should make my food."

"I... I’m sorry, sir," she stammered, her voice a tiny squeak.

"It’s just... the head maid usually handles your meals."

"Starting today, you do everything," I stood up, looming over her until she had to tilt her head back.

"You cook. You clean. You polish my shoes—every single pair. You arrange my room. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, sir," she replied quickly, her head dropping. "What would you like me to cook?"

"I don't know. Anything you know. will satisfy me." i said to her.

I watched her retreat into the kitchen.

From my seat, I could see her through the archway.

She was wandering around the stove looking utterly lost, like a child who had wandered into a laboratory.

I began to wonder if she even knew how to boil water.

"Little rat!" I called out.

Silence.

"Little rat!" I bellowed, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.

She practically leaped out of her skin, sprinting into the parlor.

Her eyes were darting around the floor, panicked. "Are you... are you looking for a rat, sir?"

I stared at her, my mouth set in a hard, cold line. It was hilarious, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a smile. "You are the rat I’m calling."

Her face fell, a small pout forming on her lips. "But my name isn't Rat. It’s Clara," she whispered in a tiny, defiant voice.

"I don't care about your name. You’re 'Rat' to me.

can you cook?" i asked

She hesitated, her eyes flickering toward the kitchen. "Yes," she finally said.

"okay. What are you making?"

"Fried noodles and eggs, sir." she murmured, keeping her eyes on the floor.

I waved her away.

A few minutes later, she returned with a plate.

It looked... uninspired. Unattractive. I looked at the steam rising from it and felt a surge of suspicion.

"Taste it," I commanded.

She took a bite. Her expression was a blank mask, unreadable.

"How is it?" i asked, watching her closely.

"It’s... okay," she said, her fingers tangling together behind her back.

"I took a bite from the noodles."

I nearly spat it out. It was an assault on my senses—too much pepper, enough salt to preserve a corpse, and a strange, bitter aftertaste.

"What is this?" I hissed, slamming the fork down. "Is this some kind of payback? Are you trying to poison me?"

She dropped to her knees instantly, her forehead nearly touching the floor. "No! I swear! I just... I hardly ever cook at home. I’m always working."

"but I asked you if you could cook! You said yes!" I spat, shoving the plate away in disgust.

"I said yes because I thought I could make it well!" she said, her voice muffled by the floor. "And I was scared to say no to you!"

Before I could tear into her further, my phone screamed in my pocket. Trouble at the hotel sir. my worker said

I stood up, my jaw tight with a new kind of rage, and walked away, leaving her kneeling.