Chapter 3: Vincenta's POV
1342 Words
I woke up to the sound of shouting.
My eyes snapped open, and I sat up, disoriented. The room was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight through the curtains. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Two in the morning.
The shouting came again, muffled but urgent and right outside the door of the guest room I was in. A woman's voice, high-pitched and panicked.
I threw off the covers and crossed the room, pressing my ear against the door. Footsteps pounded down the hallway outside, followed by more voices.
I pulled the door open and stepped into the corridor. One staff member rushed past me without acknowledging my presence. I followed him toward the commotion.
He stopped at a door near the end of the hall. Inside, a young woman sat on the floor, clutching her stomach, her face pale and slick with sweat. Another staff member knelt beside her, trying to help her stand.
"What happened?" I asked.
The older woman glanced at me, her expression strained. "Madam, you shouldn't be here."
"No need for unnecessary formalities," I waved her off. "What happened?"
The older woman looked unsurely at me, but the girl moaned in pain again. "She just fell and began clutching her stomach. She is known to have an ulcer, hence why all her drugs are here but nothing is working."
"How long has she been like this since you administered the drug."
"It's been more than an hour."
I stepped closer, kneeling on the other side of the young woman. "What's your name?"
"Elena," she whispered, her voice weak.
"Elena, can you tell me what you're feeling?"
"My stomach. It hurts so much. I can't... I can't breathe properly."
I placed my hand gently on her wrist, feeling for her pulse. It was fast, and the beats were unstable. Her skin was clammy, and a cold sweat began forming on her head.
"How long have you been feeling like this?" I asked.
"Since dinner. It got worse an hour ago."
I looked up at the older woman. "Has she eaten anything unusual?"
"I don't know. She works in the kitchen."
I turned back to Elena, keeping my voice calm. "Did you eat anything that tasted strange? Anything that might have been spoiled?"
She nodded weakly. "Shellfish. From the... the fridge. I thought it was fine since we are allowed to eat the leftovers."
My stomach tightened. "Shellfish poisoning. She needs a hospital."
The older woman frowned. "The ambulance will take at least twenty minutes. The estate is far from the city."
"Then we don't have time to wait." I stood and looked around the room. "Do you have a first aid kit? Activated charcoal? Anything?"
"In the kitchen. Some of the younger maids use it for skincare. It's downstairs."
"Get it now."
She hesitated, then nodded and hurried out.
I knelt beside Elena again, helping her shift into a more comfortable position. "Listen to me. You're going to be okay, but I need you to stay calm. Can you do that?"
She nodded, tears streaming down her face.
The older woman returned with a small medical kit. I opened it quickly, scanning the contents. There was activated charcoal, basic supplies, nothing extensive. It would have to do.
"Elena, I need you to drink this," I said, pouring the charcoal into a glass of water. "It's going to taste awful, but it will help."
She drank it slowly, grimacing with every sip. I monitored her pulse, her breathing, watching for any sign of deterioration.
"Keep her hydrated," I told the older woman. "Small sips of water. Don't let her lie flat. If she vomits, turn her on her side immediately."
"How do you know all this?" she asked, her voice low.
"I just do." I didn't elaborate.
Elena's breathing began to steady, her pulse slowing slightly. The charcoal was working, but she still needed proper medical care.
"Where's the ambulance?" I asked.
"They said fifteen more minutes."
I nodded, sitting beside Elena, my hand on her wrist. She was stable for now, but I couldn't leave her.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. I looked up just as Amaro appeared in the doorway.
He took the scene immediately. His gaze moved from Elena to me, then to the older woman.
"What happened?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it.
"Shellfish poisoning," I said. "She ate something spoiled. I gave her activated charcoal. The ambulance is on the way."
His eye fixed on me. "You treated her."
"Yes."
"Without informing me."
I stood slowly, meeting his gaze. "There wasn't time. She needed help immediately."
"And you decided you were qualified to provide it."
"I was the only one here who knew what to do."
He stepped into the room, his presence filling the space. The staff members shifted nervously, but I didn't move.
"Leave us," Amaro said, his voice quiet but commanding.
The older woman hesitated, glancing at Elena.
"Stay with her," I said quickly. "I'll be fine."
Amaro's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He turned and walked out of the room. I followed him into the hallway, my heart pounding.
He stopped a few feet away, his back to me. Then he turned, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch.
"You treated her," he repeated.
"Yes."
"How?"
"I know basic medical care. First aid. Emergency response."
"That wasn't basic first aid, Vincenta said. You diagnosed her. You knew exactly what to do."
I crossed my arms. "Does it matter? She's stable now."
"It matters because you didn't tell me." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "You've been here less than forty-eight hours, and you're already keeping secrets."
"I'm not keeping secrets. I helped someone who needed it."
"Without my knowledge. Without my permission."
"She could have died while I waited for your permission."
His jaw clenched. "You don't understand how this works. Everything that happens in this house, I need to know about. Everything."
"Even if it saves someone's life?"
"Especially then."
We stood there, the tension crackling between us. His gaze didn't waver, and neither did mine.
"You're angry because I acted independently," I said quietly. "Not because I helped her."
"I'm angry because you're reckless."
"And you're controlling."
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Yes. I am."
The admission caught me off guard. I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. I could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
"Who taught you?" he asked.
"What?"
"Who taught you medical care?"
I hesitated. "I taught myself. Books. Online courses. I wanted to be useful."
"Useful." He repeated the word slowly, as if tasting it. "You're more than useful, Vincenta. You're skilled. Competent. And you hide it well."
"I'm not hiding anything."
"Yes, you are." He stepped closer, and I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "But I see you. I see what you're capable of. And it intrigues me."
My pulse quickened. "You're intrigued?"
"Yes."
"That's not part of the contract."
"No. It's not."
His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes. The air between us felt thick, charged. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.
"The ambulance is here," a voice called from down the hall.
Amaro stepped back, the moment breaking. He adjusted his suit jacket, his expression shifting back to neutral.
"Go back to your room," he said.
"What about Elena?"
"The paramedics will handle it. You've done enough."
I wanted to argue, but the exhaustion was catching up to me. I nodded and turned toward my room.
"Vincenta."
I stopped, glancing back.
"Next time," he said quietly, "tell me first."
"And if there's no time?"
His mouth curved slightly. "Then I'll deal with your disobedience later."
I didn't respond. I walked back to my room, my skin still tingling from the weight of his gaze, my mind racing with everything unsaid.
He intrigued me too. And that terrified me.
- Writer
