After the tense and quiet breakfast with Lucien, I knew I had to fulfill his expectations and clean the kitchen thoroughly. The lingering taste of his authority still clung to me, and I couldn't afford to disappoint him.
I began by clearing the dirty dishes from the dining table, carrying them to the sink. The clinking of plates and utensils seemed to mock me, a reminder of the relentless cycle of servitude I had become trapped in.
The sink was piled high with dishes, remnants of meals by others, even the maids. I rolled up my sleeves, took a deep breath, and started to scrub them one by one. The sound of water splashing and the scent of soap filled the room as I worked diligently.
With each dish I cleaned, I couldn't help but think of the immense pressure I was under. The burden of bei
