I Saved Him, He Betrayed Me

The leather belt whistled through the air before it cracked against my back, sending fire racing across my skin.

"Faster!" Amanda's voice cut through the guest wing like broken glass. "Do you think I have all day to watch you crawl around like some pathetic insect?"

I pressed my forehead against the cold marble floor, my hands trembling as I tried to scrub the already spotless tiles.

The bucket of soapy water beside me had long since turned gray, but I didn't dare ask for fresh water. Not when Amanda stood above me in her silk Thanksgiving dress, the designer belt still clutched in her manicured fingers.

Another crack. This time across my shoulders.

The pain was sharp, immediate, but I'd learned long ago not to cry out.

Sound only made her angrier.

Instead, I bit down on my tongue until I tasted copper, my body curling instinctively as the belt found its mark again.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

I lifted my head, meeting her cold blue eyes. Amanda's face was perfectly made up for the holiday dinner, her blonde hair swept into an elegant chignon that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary. She looked like a magazine cover—beautiful, untouchable, perfect. Everything I would never be.

"You're disgusting," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Crawling around on the floor like the animal you are. Do you know what day it is, Belle?"

I nodded, not trusting my damaged voice to form the words.

"Thanksgiving," she continued, circling me like a predator. "A day for gratitude. And what are you grateful for, I wonder? The roof over your head? The food you're allowed to eat? The privilege of serving your betters?"

The belt came down again, this time across my ribs. I gasped, the air rushing from my lungs as white-hot pain bloomed across my side.

"I asked you a question."

"Y-yes," I whispered, the word scraping against my throat like sandpaper. "Grateful."

"Good." Amanda's smile was razor-sharp. "Because tonight, you'll be preparing our Thanksgiving feast. Every course, every garnish, every single detail must be perfect. And when you're done, you'll serve us with a smile, knowing that this is exactly where you belong."

The sound of footsteps echoed through the wing, and my heart sank as I recognized the confident stride. Robert appeared in the doorway, his dark hair perfectly styled, his expensive suit immaculate. For a moment—just a moment—I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes as he took in the scene before him. But it vanished so quickly I might have imagined it.

"Having trouble with the help again, darling?" His voice was casual, almost bored.

Amanda laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a storm. "Just reminding our little mouse of her duties. You know how she gets when she's left to her own devices."

Robert's gaze settled on me, and I felt myself shrink under the weight of his judgment. This was the man I'd saved seven years ago, the man I'd pulled from a burning car at the cost of my voice, my face, my future. The man I'd loved in silence for so long it had become a part of me, like breathing.

And he looked at me like I was nothing.

"If you were more competent," he said, his voice cutting through me like ice, "you wouldn't invite this upon yourself."

The words hit harder than Amanda's belt ever could. I felt something inside me crumble, some small flame of hope I hadn't even realized I'd been nursing finally guttering out.

Amanda's smile widened. "Exactly. Now get up and get to work. We have guests arriving at seven, and I want everything perfect."

I struggled to my feet, my back screaming in protest. The welts from the belt were already beginning to swell, and I could feel warm dampness seeping through my thin sweater where the leather had broken skin. But I kept my expression blank, my movements careful and controlled.

"And Belle?" Amanda's voice stopped me at the door. "If you so much as breathe wrong tonight, if there's even the smallest mistake, you'll be sleeping in the garden shed. In November. Do we understand each other?"

I nodded and fled.

The hours that followed blurred together in a haze of preparation. My hands moved automatically—chopping, seasoning, basting, arranging. The turkey was golden and perfect, the sides arranged like a magazine spread. Crystal glasses caught the light from the chandelier, and candles flickered in their silver holders, casting everything in a warm, romantic glow.

It was beautiful. It was everything Amanda had demanded.

And I was invisible in the middle of it all.

When Robert and Amanda finally sat down to their candlelit dinner, I stood in the shadows by the kitchen door, waiting for orders that never came. They talked and laughed, feeding each other bites of the meal I'd spent hours preparing, completely absorbed in each other.

I should have felt proud. The dinner was flawless.

Instead, I felt hollow.

"Belle." Amanda's voice cut through my thoughts. She didn't even look at me as she spoke. "We'd like some privacy now. You can go."

Go where? I wanted to ask. But I knew better.

I gathered my thin coat from the kitchen hook and stepped out into the November night. The cold hit me like a physical blow, seeping through my clothes and settling deep in my bones. The welts on my back throbbed with each gust of wind, and I pulled my coat tighter, though it did little good.

The estate grounds stretched out before me, dark and empty. Security lights cast long shadows across the manicured lawns, and in the distance, I could see the warm glow from other staff quarters. But I couldn't go there. Not tonight. Not when Amanda had made it clear that I was unwelcome everywhere.

So I stood there, shivering in the cold, watching through the dining room windows as Robert and Amanda shared their perfect Thanksgiving dinner. They looked like something out of a fairy tale—the handsome prince and his beautiful princess, living their happily ever after.

And I was the monster lurking in the shadows, the reminder of ugliness in their perfect world.

Other staff members passed by on their way to their own holiday celebrations, their eyes sliding over me with a mixture of pity and contempt. The gardener shook his head as he walked past. One of the maids whispered something to her companion that made them both laugh.

I was a spectacle. A cautionary tale. The girl who'd fallen from grace so completely that even the other servants looked down on her.

The wind picked up, cutting through my coat like it was made of paper, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in what little warmth I had left. My teeth chattered, and my fingers were going numb, but I didn't move. Where could I go?

Inside, Robert lifted his wine glass in a toast, and Amanda's laughter drifted out through the windows like music. They were warm, fed, loved.

And I was nothing.

Just like Robert said.

Just like I'd always been.