TOO LOW TO BE HIS.

THE PRICE OF LOYALTY

ELEANOR’S POV

I glanced at the pile of textbooks i had to study on my work desk, and gosh, i had a lot to cover up, joggling school and event planning had to be the most impossible job ever, worse is I don't even get paid well enough, for how much work I do.

My eyes were burning from the dim glow of my lamp, but I pushed through. One more year, El. Just one more year, and Mum never has to touch a mop again.

That was the mantra that kept me awake in this cramped, drafty flat in Peckham. Every page I turned was a step closer to her freedom.

My mother was the backbone of my life. She had spent two decades as a "live-in" maid for the Archer-Vanes, fading into the background of their mansion in Belgravia so I could have a decent life.

Giving up isn't even in the equation, she didn't give up all this years, she didn't complain, she kept pushing, even though I was trouble sometimes, she didn't give up on me, not even once. she was a father figure and a mom all at once.

why then should I back down? Why should I complain, why should I be troubled by the workload I have piled up every single day. I should be grateful I even have a source of income and a mother who loves me so much. Hell yeah, I would do anything just to make my mom proud.

My phone buzzed on the wooden table, vibrating against a stack of bills.

It was a private number.

My heart skipped a beat.

My mother never called this late. She was usually asleep by ten, resting her aching joints for the five-a.m. start the House Manager demanded.

"Hello?" I said, my voice a bit shaky, I was already scared.

"Is this Eleanor Bennett?" The voice was cold, clipped, and devoid of any human warmth. I recognized it instantly; Mr. Henderson, the Archer-Vane House Manager.

"Yes. Is my mother okay? What happened?"

"There has been an... incident," Henderson said, and I could hear the sound of papers shuffling in the background.

"Your mother collapsed on the Grand Staircase ten minutes ago. Respiratory distress and suspected renal failure. The ambulance is currently transporting her to St. Thomas’s."

The world tilted. The air left my lungs as if I’d been punched. "What? Is she—is she alive? I’m coming there now—" I stutterd, forcing myself to stand on my feet.

"Wait," Henderson’s voice sharpened, stopping me mid-breath. "Before you rush to the hospital, you need to understand the situation. Sir Alistair is… displeased. The household is in chaos, and Master Leopold’s suite is a disaster. Your mother’s contract is very clear about 'uninterrupted service'.''' If she can not fulfil her duties, the family is under no obligation to cover her private medical insurance."

I gripped the edge of the desk so hard my nails dug into the wood. "She’s dying, and you’re talking about a contract?"

"I am talking about her survival, Eleanor," he countered smoothly. "Private dialysis costs thousands. Sir Alistair is willing to overlook the breach and pay for her care in full,on one condition. You take her place. Starting tonight."

I looked at my textbooks. My dreams. My promise to Martha that I’d never let a man control me. If I went there, I was stepping into the cage. If I didn't, my mother would be left to a crumbling waitlist that she didn't have time for.

"Master Leopold is currently indisposed," Henderson added, his tone dripping with a hidden warning. "He needs a personal handler. Someone who knows the family rules. Someone loyal."

I felt the noose tightening around my neck. To save the woman who gave me everything, I had to become the very thing I hated: a servant to the monsters who had broken her.

"I’ll be there in thirty minutes," I whispered.

"The service entrance, Eleanor. Don't be late."

The line went dead. I stared at the empty room, the silence screaming in my ears. I was a university student five minutes ago. Now, I was a debt-collector for my mother’s life.

As I grabbed my coat and headed for the rain-slicked streets to catch the night bus, one question hammered in my brain:

What kind of monster is Leopold Archer-Vane that he needs a 'handler' while his oldest help lies dying on his floor? Is he a toddler? or a heartless freak? Well, I guess I'm about to find out.