Beneath His Vows

A Mother’s Warning

After the engagement and the foul play Damien went for a business trip.

Selene had been polishing the railing in the long hallway when Elise’s voice called her name.

“Madam wants to see you.”

Her heart skipped. Madam? She hadn’t met Damien’s mother since she started working here. She wiped her hands quickly on her apron, smoothed her dress, and followed Elise, her legs suddenly heavy.

When the tall double doors opened, Selene almost forgot to breathe.

Lady Veylor was standing by the window, a glass of wine in her hand. She was beautiful in the kind of way that didn’t fade with time—elegant, proud, commanding. Her hair was neatly swept back, not a strand out of place, and her gown looked like it belonged in a fashion magazine.

And then Selene saw it—the resemblance.

Damien’s sharp cheekbones. His tall, graceful frame. His aura of power. Lady Veylor was a mirror of him, except her eyes were a deep brown, warm in color but cold in expression. Damien’s eyes had always been icy grey—hard, unreadable.

Lady Veylor turned slowly, and her gaze landed on Selene. It was the kind of look that stripped away layers, leaving nothing hidden.

“So…” Her voice was smooth, but sharp underneath. “You’re the little maid I keep hearing about.”

Selene bowed her head slightly, her fingers twisting together. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Lift your chin.”

Selene obeyed.

Lady Veylor’s eyes swept over her from head to toe, lingering on her plain dress, her innocent face. A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.

“I see now,” she said softly, walking closer, her heels clicking against the marble. “You’re younger than I expected. Too young. Too naïve. Girls like you don’t survive long in houses like this.”

Selene swallowed hard. “I… I only try to do my work, ma’am.”

“Work?” Lady Veylor’s laugh was soft but cruel. “Is that what you call it? Do you think dusting tables and serving food makes you important here? No, child. You are nothing more than a shadow in this mansion. Replaceable. Forgettable.”

Her words hit like knives.

But Lady Veylor wasn’t finished. She leaned closer, her perfume suffocating, her voice low.

“Let me warn you. My son has responsibilities. He has vows to fulfill. Do not mistake his politeness for interest. You will never be more than the help. Stay in your place, or you will regret it.”

Selene’s lips parted, but no words came. Her throat burned, her chest ached.

“Do you understand me?” Lady Veylor pressed, her brown eyes narrowing.

“Yes, ma’am,” Selene whispered, even as her heart cracked in her chest.

“Good.” Lady Veylor pulled back, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. She waved her hand dismissively. “You may go.”

Selene curtsied quickly, her vision blurred with unshed tears. She left the room as fast as she could without running.

By the time she reached her small quarters, her hands were shaking. She pressed them to her face, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out loud.

Nothing. Forgettable. Stay in your place.

The words echoed again and again, until Selene couldn’t bear it anymore.

That night, while the house still buzzed with life, Selene packed her few belongings into a small bag. She didn’t tell Rosa. She didn’t tell Elise. She didn’t even say goodbye.

She just left.

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