Fall for My Face? Or My Soul?

Chapter 5 Why Did You Betray Me?

Layla's POV:

I struggled to help Orlando to the servants' quarters at the Glen Villa. His face was flushed, his body burning with fever.

The other servants shared rooms, usually cramped, dark spaces where several of them slept together. But because of my life-saving favor to Donald, he'd made an exception and given me a room of my own.

Looking back, I was almost grateful for that callous man's fleeting sense of decency. Without it, I wouldn't have known what to do with Orlando in his current state.

He lay quietly on my bed, his tall, strong body making the small space seem even more cramped and fragile.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself as I unbuttoned his shirt. I dipped a cloth in cool water and gently wiped his flushed skin, hoping to bring his fever down.

The snake that had bitten him released an anesthetic-like substance from its fangs. At first, there was no feeling. But soon after, the effects took hold.

The person who got bitten would fall into a light coma, become disoriented, and their body temperature spikes.

Thankfully, the snake's bite wasn't deadly. As long as the fever was brought down quickly, he would wake up.

When I was a child, I used to get bitten frequently in the storage room. I was ignored for days because of my fever, but one kind old servant taught me how to handle it.

Yet, I never thought I'd find myself using those skills on another man, certainly not Orlando.

His body was striking. The sculpted muscles of his chest and abdomen made it clear he was no stranger to physical exertion, but it was the drops of water clinging to his throat that caught my eye. There was something... alluring about the way the droplets glistened, catching the dim light of the room. It was ridiculous. But in that moment, a flash of something darker, something dangerous, flickered through me.

I swallowed hard and quickly looked away.

It was ridiculous. How could I be thinking about this now, in such an intimate, vulnerable moment?

I took another steadying breath and then reached to wipe the sweat from his forehead. But before I could, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist!

Orlando's eyes fluttered open, though he still seemed disoriented, his gaze heavy and unfocused. There was something about his expression that made me pause.

"Sir... are you... okay?" I asked, my voice suddenly uncertain, laced with an unexpected tremor.

I couldn't help it. The fleeting, inappropriate thoughts from earlier lingered, and now my words felt awkward as if he could sense my unease.

Suddenly, his grip tightened. Before I could react, he yanked me toward him, and in the blink of an eye, I found myself falling across his chest, landing in his arms.

Through the thin fabric of my maid's uniform, I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, residual warmth from his fever, and my breath caught in my throat. A sudden flush rose to my face, my heart hammering in my chest. I began to feel thirsty.

His eyes were half-lidded, tinged with red and dark with a kind of feral intensity, as if he were an animal hunting in the wild, searching for its prey.

"Why did you betray me?"

His voice was rough, gravelly with fever, but there was an edge to it, an accusation. His words sent a jolt through my chest. My heart hammered, and I froze.

Was he speaking to me? Or was this something from his dream, some haunting memory of the past?

I couldn't think straight. I wanted to pull away, to escape, but before I could move, he flipped me over effortlessly, his body pressing down on mine with a force that left me breathless.

Even weakened by the venom, his strength, fueled by fever and desperation, was overwhelming. I couldn't move at all.

His lips found mine in a scorching kiss, demanding and overwhelming, stealing the breath from my lungs. I was completely frozen.

I tried to struggle, pushing against his chest, my fists pounding weakly against his back until he stopped.

I hesitated and then gently tested him, pushing against his chest. That was when I realized he had passed out again.

I cursed under my breath. After everything, after all the effort to help him, he'd wasted the little energy he had saved.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door. I quickly shoved Orlando off me, adjusting my disheveled clothes as best as I could. With trembling hands, I cautiously opened the door.

And then I heard the voice, the venomous, hateful words that froze me in place. "You slut! How dare you bring a man into this house without permission?"

I had just stepped out of the room when the slap landed.

My niece, Melanie, was standing before me, her expression a perfect mask of sweet innocence, but I knew her far too well. Beneath that angelic face lay a venomous heart.

We were close in age, and yet, as children, I was always the one at her mercy. I remembered the time when her favorite doll fell into the lake. Despite the fact that I couldn't swim, she'd forced me to dive in after it.

That day, my mother had jumped in to save me. The icy water had taken a toll on her health, and from that moment on, she'd never been the same weak and frail. Donald had grown impatient with her constant hospital visits, eventually sending her away to the nursing home.

From then on, this house, this family, had no one to protect me. I had to learn to fend for myself, to become someone I wasn't, just to survive. Acting became my second nature and, eventually, my livelihood.

With two drops of fake tears gathered at the corner of my eyes, I looked at Melanie, putting on the most hurt expression I could muster. "Miss, what do you mean?" I whispered in a voice that trembled just enough to seem genuine. "I don't understand."

"Someone saw you," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "They saw you with a man here. Is that clear enough for you?"

She closed the space between us. Her gaze, sharp and filled with disgust, sliced through me like a blade.

I felt a tremor race through my chest, panic rising like a wave. My fingers instinctively clenched the fabric of my dress.

"You're just a w***e," she hissed, grabbing my wrist with a grip that was almost crushing. "A woman like you doesn't deserve to work for my family. I'll make sure Daddy fires you."

Her nails bit into my flesh, leaving little crescent-shaped indents that burned as though they were branded into me. But Melanie didn't even seem to notice. Her grip tightened, and I had no choice but to bite back the scream rising in my throat.

I steeled myself, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Ms. Glen, you can't just accuse me like this. It's not right."

"Accuse you?" Melanie laughed, the sound sharp and malicious. "We'll see. You'll have no chance to deny it once we go inside."

Without another word, she shoved me aside and marched toward the door.

I scrambled to my feet, my heart racing. "You can't do this. I may be a servant, but I deserve my privacy too."

I moved to block the door, my body shaking with a mixture of anger and fear.

"Move, you i***t," Melanie spat.

With a sharp motion, she shoved me aside, her hand already on the handle.

She shoved me aside with such force that I lost my balance. My knees scraped against the hard floor. The pain shot through me, but I couldn't focus on that.

Just as I was struggling to get up, I heard a voice, a voice I knew too well. "What's going on here?"

Donald's voice boomed from behind me. I turned to see him striding toward us, his face twisted in fury.

"Daddy, she..." Melanie stammered, trying to find her footing. "She's been hiding a man in her room!"

For a moment, she looked victorious as though she had finally found her ally. She rushed to Donald's side, clutching his arm, her tone dripping with false sweetness.

"Mel," Donald said, his tone suddenly sharp. "Don't forget you're a lady. Is this really how your mother taught you to behave?"

"Sir, Miss had to do this. For the family's honor," Teresa Hill, the other maid who had come along with Melanie, quickly added, trying to justify the scene.

"You bunch of fools!" Donald's eyes widened in disbelief. "You think making a scene like this is going to build the family name, isn't it?"

His gaze shifted back to Melanie, who seemed sad, and his voice suddenly became more measured and serious. "What if you barged in and found a man in there without any clothes on? What do you think that would do to your reputation, huh?"

With widened eyes, he motioned for the servants to help me up, his gaze turning back to me, filled with judgment. "Emilia," he said, his voice heavy with warning. "You saved me once, but remember our place. This is my house, and you're my servant. If you've done something... improper in my home, I will follow the rules here and punish you accordingly!"

"Sir, I..." I opened my mouth to respond, to plead my case, but before I could say a word, Donald had already stepped forward, opening the door with a swift motion.