His Old Money World

Chapter 3 - Broken

Nobody important."

The words kept ringing in Amara's head as she scrubbed the plates in the kitchen. Her hands were shaking.

Nobody important. After he had looked at her like that in the hallway. After he had whispered "Good girl" and made her whole body shiver.

She was a fool.

"Are you deaf?" A sharp voice cut through.

Amara turned. The fiancee was standing at the kitchen door. Perfect hair, perfect dress, perfect skin that had never seen sun. She looked at Amara like she was looking at trash.

"I said bring champagne to the parlor," the fiancee said. "Now."

"Yes ma," Amara wiped her hands quickly.

In the parlor, Madam, Adrian, and the fiancee — Tola — were sitting. Tola had her legs crossed over Adrian's lap, possessive.

Amara placed the tray down carefully. Her orange hair was tied back, but one strand fell.

Tola looked at it and sneered. "What is this? Your maid has orange hair? In Ikoyi? Adrian, darling, is this a joke?"

Adrian didn't look at Amara. He stared at his phone. Cold.

"She is new," Madam said quickly. "From the Mainland. She will learn."

"She should learn that orange hair belongs to street girls," Tola said loudly, so Amara could hear. "Not in a house like this."

Amara's cheeks burned. She wanted the floor to swallow her.

"Leave," Adrian said finally. Without looking up. "Just leave."

Amara ran back to the kitchen, tears finally falling. She sat on the cold floor behind the counter and cried silently.

She should quit. She should pack her thrifted bag and go back to Yaba. At least there, she was not "nobody important."

The kitchen door opened. Footsteps.

She quickly wiped her tears. "I'm sorry, I was just -"

It was Adrian.

He closed the door behind him. Locked it.

"What are you doing on the floor?" His voice was different. Softer.

"Nothing, sir."

He crouched down, right in front of her. His expensive trousers touching the dirty floor. He reached out — and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

His touch was warm.

"Don't listen to her," he whispered. His eyes were not cold anymore. They were angry, but not at her. "Do you hear me, Amara? Don't listen to anyone."

"But you said I was nobody -" her voice broke.

"I lied." The words came out harsh, like they hurt him to say. "Do you think I wanted to say that? With her sitting on my lap? With my mother watching?"

He grabbed her chin gently, made her look at him.

"You are not nobody. You have been in my head since you walked into my gate with that thrifted bag. You have been driving me crazy. And I hate it."

Amara's heart stopped.

Before she could answer, there was banging on the kitchen door.

"Adrian? Are you in there? Why is the door locked?"

Tola.

Adrian's hand dropped. His face went cold again, like a mask.

He stood up, unlocked the door.

Tola stared at them — Adrian standing, Amara on the floor crying.

Her eyes narrowed. A slow, dangerous smile.

"Oh," Tola said. "I see. The maid is special after all."

Adrian said nothing.

And in that silence, Amara knew — her life in this house was about to become hell.