Madge's lips curled into a vicious smile.
"Dear sister, I hear you've been crying about those three unborn babies every single day for the past three days."
"Don't you want to know where they're buried?"
My hand clenched.
These past few days had probably been Madge's way of getting back at me. She'd had the housekeepers stand outside my door, gossiping loudly about my three children's tiny bodies. About where they'd been buried.
None of them had made it into this world alive, but laying the dead to rest in hallowed ground was a tradition as old as time. I'd asked Everard countless times where their graves were. He always used my depression as an excuse, claiming he was afraid the emotional toll would be too much for me, and refused to say a word.
Madge crouched down and gripped my chin, her tone flippant and cruel.
"You want to know? Fine."
"Get on your knees and wash my feet. Do a good enough job, and I'll tell you."
My whole body trembled. My eyes burned red.
Her taunting, poisonous voice kept going.
"Those three half-formed little runts of yours? I tossed them somewhere random. If you don't kneel, you'll never find their graves for the rest of your life."
I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the light in them had gone hollow. I nodded.
"I'll do it. Just tell me where my children are buried."
Madge grinned in triumph and planted her foot on the back of my hand.
"There's a good girl."
I swallowed the pain, slowly knelt before her, and bent down to remove her shoes.
Everard stood to the side, watching with cold indifference. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.
Madge savored every second of my servitude, drawling lazily.
"Those three kids of yours are buried in the farthest corner of that abandoned cemetery on the outskirts of town. Not even a headstone to mark them."
"If it weren't for my generosity, you'd never have found out."
My fists tightened. "I know I was wrong. From now on, I'll serve you both obediently. Just please stop using the children against me."
Seeing me submit, Everard relented.
"Since you've admitted your mistake, you'll stay in this house as the help. Keep your mouth shut and don't even think about fighting back."
I kept my head bowed, hiding the flash of cold fury in my eyes.
Everard. Madge.
This debt? I'll collect every last cent. With interest.
Over the next few days, I became the picture of silent obedience. Whatever they told me to do, I did without resistance. Without complaint. I even drank the hormone-laced juice on my own, unprompted.
Madge reveled in the thrill of tormenting me.
Only Everard frowned now and then, a faint unease surfacing in the back of his mind.
"Madge, don't you think Iris has been a little too well-behaved lately?"
Madge barely glanced up from admiring her fresh manicure. "So what?"
"She's been beaten into submission. What else can she do besides obey? She can't even slit her wrists without the housekeeper stopping her. Her children are gone. She's got nothing left but to live off our mercy for the rest of her miserable life."
Everard considered this for a moment, then let the warmth of the woman beside him dissolve his doubts. He exhaled.
"You're right. She couldn't make waves even if she tried."
For the entire week that followed, Everard pretended to be away on business while he and Madge worked their way through every themed hotel in the city.
They were having the time of their lives.
Then, on the seventh night, Everard's phone rang. And rang. And rang.
He answered with an irritated snap. "What is it?"
On the other end, the housekeeper's voice came through choked with sobs, frantic and panicked.
"Ma'am said she was feeling low and went to the beach for some air. She threw herself into the ocean!"
