"Iris Thorne!"
The shout echoed down the servants' corridor, sharp enough to rattle the cheap glass light fixtures.
I opened my bedroom door. Mrs. Gable stood in the hallway, her mouth pressed into a severe line.
"The young miss wants you in the main dining room," the head maid said. "Immediately."
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Time for you to answer for your behavior."
I followed her upstairs.
Jasper sat at the long mahogany table, staring at a porcelain teacup. Celeste paced behind him, her silk robe trailing over the polished hardwood floor.
"Explain yourself," Celeste snapped the second I crossed the threshold.
"Good morning, Miss White. Explain what?"
Jasper looked up, arranging his features into a mask of exhausted pity. "Don't play dumb, Iris. I told her."
"Told her what?"
"That you cornered me by the laundry room last night," he lied effortlessly. "That you begged me to let you into my suite."
My jaw locked. "That is a complete fabrication."
"You refused to handle seeing me happy," Jasper continued, his tone thick with fake sympathy. "You grabbed my wrist. You told me you missed our old apartment."
"You grabbed *me*," I countered. I shifted my focus to Celeste. "He waited in the dark. He tried to pull me into his room."
Celeste closed the distance between us. "You think I'm an idiot?"
"I think your fiancé is a liar."
"He is mine," Celeste said, stepping directly into my personal space. "His time, his attention, his loyalty. You are the help."
"I am fully aware of my job title," I said.
"Are you?" She tilted her head. "Because Jasper says you brought up your pathetic history to get a handout."
"He offered me money," I corrected her. "He offered to pay my bills if I went into his room."
Jasper slammed his hand on the table. "Stop lying, Iris! I told you to leave me alone, and you threatened to scream!"
"Check the hallway cameras," I challenged her.
Jasper shifted in his chair. "The cameras in the servants' wing have been down for maintenance all week, Iris. You know that. That's why you chose that spot."
He had planned this. When I rejected him last night, he sprinted to Celeste to spin the narrative first.
"He is manipulating you," I told her.
"Did you really think I would choose you over him?" Celeste asked, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"I don't want him," I said.
"Everyone wants him. But he belongs to me."
"Then keep him on a shorter leash."
Celeste swung her arm.
The impact snapped my head to the side. A sharp, stinging heat exploded across my left cheek. The crack of her palm against my skin echoed off the vaulted ceiling.
I tasted copper. I kept my feet planted.
"You filthy little rat," Celeste spat. "I gave you a job. I let you into my home to pay for your mother's hospital bills. And you try to seduce my future husband?"
"I didn't touch him."
"Shut your mouth!" Celeste grabbed my chin, her nails digging into my jawline. "Jasper told me everything. He rejected you, and you threatened to make a scene."
I stared at her, ignoring the throbbing pain in my face.
Celeste shoved me backward. "The only manipulator here is the desperate maid trying to claw her way out of poverty. Mrs. Gable!"
The head maid stepped into the room. "Yes, Miss White."
"Iris is off her regular duties today," Celeste announced, glaring at me. "She will clean every floor-to-ceiling window in the conservatory and the grand hall. Inside and out."
"That requires a three-person crew, miss," Mrs. Gable pointed out.
"She does it alone," Celeste snapped. "Then, she will hand-wash all the silk bedding from the master suite. Use the washboards in the basement. I want it done the old-fashioned way."
"Yes, miss."
"And one more thing." Celeste smiled, a cruel, satisfied expression. "Iris does not eat today. No breakfast, no lunch, no dinner. If anyone gives her a single crumb, they pack their bags."
"Understood," Mrs. Gable said.
Celeste turned her back to me. "Get this trash out of my sight."
Mrs. Gable led me to the supply closet. She handed me a heavy plastic bucket and a squeegee.
"Start in the conservatory," the older woman ordered.
"He lied to her," I said, grabbing the handle.
"My paycheck relies on my silence, Iris. Yours should too. Get to work."
I carried the supplies to the conservatory. The morning sun glared through the massive glass panels, mocking the dull ache in my cheek. My face felt swollen, the skin tight and hot.
I climbed the step stool and started scrubbing.
Two hours passed. My shoulders burned. The bucket felt like it weighed fifty pounds.
A pair of maids, Clara and Maya, walked past carrying fresh floral arrangements.
"Excuse me," I said, stepping down from the stool. "Can I use that spare rag?"
Clara pulled the cloth away. "Use your own rag."
"Mine is filthy."
"Not as filthy as a woman who steals another woman's man," Maya muttered.
"I didn't steal anyone," I said, keeping my voice level.
"Don't look at me," Clara sneered. "Keep your eyes on the glass. Miss White gave strict orders. No one helps the homewrecker."
"We all heard what happened in the dining room," Maya added. "You threw yourself at Mr. Jasper. You're pathetic."
They walked away, leaving me alone with the dirty water.
I gritted my teeth. I dipped my sponge back into the bucket and climbed the stool again.
By two in the afternoon, my stomach twisted into violent knots. The hunger pangs were sharp, gnawing at my ribs. I ignored them. I moved from the conservatory to the grand hall, wiping away streaks and polishing the glass until my arms shook.
At five o'clock, I dragged myself down to the basement laundry room.
A massive pile of silver silk sheets sat on the concrete floor. The water in the utility sink was freezing.
I plunged my hands into the icy basin. The cold bit into my knuckles. The harsh soap stung the micro-cuts on my fingers.
Footsteps echoed on the concrete stairs.
Jasper walked into the dim room, wearing a tailored navy suit. He leaned against the doorway, watching me scrub the expensive fabric.
"I warned you," he said.
"Get out," I replied, not looking up.
"You brought this on yourself, Iris. You should have just listened to me last night. Now look at you. Starving. Swollen."
"I am working. Leave."
He stepped closer, stopping right behind me. "Celeste wanted to fire you and call the domestic agency. She wanted to ruin your mother's treatment plan. I talked her out of it."
I wrung out a pillowcase, twisting the silk with all my strength. "Am I supposed to thank you?"
"You owe me."
I spun around, splashing cold water onto his polished leather shoes. "I owe you nothing."
He reached a hand toward my bruised cheek.
I smacked his wrist away with the wet sponge. "Don't touch me."
"I'm trying to help you," he lied.
"You're trying to control me."
He glanced down at his shoes, his jaw tightening. "You won't survive a month of this."
"Watch me."
"You're stubborn and stupid," Jasper hissed. "I offer you an easy life, and you choose to scrub floors."
"I choose my dignity."
"Dignity doesn't pay hospital bills." He sneered, turning back toward the stairs. "Make sure you get the stains out. Celeste hates water spots."
He walked away.
I turned back to the sink. My vision blurred for a fraction of a second. I blinked hard, forcing the weakness away. I would not cry. I would not give them the satisfaction.
Midnight arrived.
I hung the last silk sheet on the drying rack. My hands were raw, the skin cracked and bleeding around the cuticles. My stomach felt hollow, entirely empty.
I dragged my feet up the stairs and down the dark corridor toward my tiny room.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
I froze.
A small, white envelope rested on the center of my thin mattress.
Someone had been in my room.
I locked the door behind me and walked over to the bed. My fingers trembled slightly as I tore the envelope open.
A single photograph slid out, falling onto the blanket.
It was a still image taken from a security camera. The angle looked down on the servants' hallway. It clearly showed Jasper grabbing my wrist, his face twisted in aggression while I pulled away.
The cameras weren't broken.
I flipped the photo over. Neat, black handwriting covered the back.
*You survived the day, Iris. Now bring this to the library in five minutes, or I send the video to Celeste.*
