ELENA'S POV
The sound of silverware clinking was louder than it ought to have been.
Perhaps because the dining room was so enveloped in silence that if you breathed incorrectly, it felt like it could choke you.
Ten people were seated at the long mahogany table. Golden chandeliers and pricey smiles were reflected on every polished surface. Once again, my stepmother had surpassed herself. glasses made of crystal. imported napkins. Hours ago, the best wine was decanted.
Then there was I.
shifting between them while using shaky fingers to carefully balance a tray. wearing a white apron and a basic black dress. My hair was pulled back into a tidy, uninteresting bun. No jewelry. Not a voice.
Just being there.
similar to the furnishings.
Unaware—or perhaps indifferent-that the girl replenishing their glasses was the daughter of the guy seated at the head of the table, the guests spoke and laughed.
Brooks, Victor.
My dad.
According to biology, that is.
Wearing a navy suit so crisp it might cut skin, he sat straight and calm. My stepmother, Clarrise, was standing next to him, dressed in false grace and red satin. The darling of the Brooks empire, her daughter, was standing opposite them.
Seraphina.
The heir. The ideal one.
The media was only aware of one.
Every item... Each headline... "Victor Brooks's dazzling daughter stuns at gala." Never to me. Never once. He had another daughter, but no one was supposed to know about it. The actual one.
Me.
But tonight, I wasn't a daughter. I had callused hands and was a shadow.
As if on cue, Seraphina tossed her honey-blonde curls and giggled gently. She avoided even glancing at me. She didn't.
Because I was the maid at this house. The key. The error.
"Forgive me, Victor, but... who is she?" a man with gentle eyes and real curiosity said, tilting his head slightly as I walked to serve the guests at the far end of the table.
Quiet.
For a fraction of a breath too long, the globe tilted.
Victor didn't blink at all.
"The maid," he remarked bluntly as he cut his steak without pausing.
Not a name.
No identity.
There's no shame in lying.
Only two words. brutal. Lastly.
It burnt in my throat. Compared to a few seconds previously, the air felt denser. I did not, however, drop the tray. I didn't gasp or speak or cry. I only gave a single nod and turned away.
Because when you're taught that silence equals survival, that's what you do.
The visitors didn't press any further. They resumed their lunch as if nothing had happened. Behind her wine glass, Seraphina grinned. Reaching out, Clarrise tenderly stroked a lock of her daughter's hair.
Additionally, I
I took a position in the corner.
similar to wallpaper.
invisible.
However, my hands?
My hands were trembling.
Something darker than pain started to build inside.
Not anger. Not quite yet.
Just a query.
How much longer will I allow myself to be erased?
The first crack in the night crept into the quiet just as the visitors were leaving.
I was wiping down the last wine glass, the chilled crystal fogging beneath my fingers, when I heard his voice from the hallway.
"Elena," he murmured, just loud enough to reverberate.
"Come to my study. After you're done."
I froze.
I let go of the fabric.
That voice... icy, calm, emotionless. However, it wasn't the voice that made me uneasy. The words were the problem. I was never called by Victor Brooks. Not unless I'd broken some unspoken rule. Not unless another accusation from Clarisse poisoned his ears.
Nevertheless, tonight... He had held out.
I slowly raised my head.
With her arms casually crossed and a soft smile that seemed to have been cut there with a knife, Clarssie stood at the doorway.
"Oh, do be quick, dear," she pleaded. "He doesn't like to wait."
She had a sweet voice. acid with added sweetness.
With her phone in one hand and her eyes fixed on me, Seraphina sat on the edge of the stairs behind her, still wearing her scarlet evening gown. Without blinking. Similar to a predator that is too bored to pursue but too protective to let its prey flee.
I muttered, nodding, "Yes, M-mother."
What more could I possibly say?
After cleaning, my fingers went numb, and my thoughts raced. Each second was more burdensome than the last.
Why right now?
What did she tell him?
What did he want?
I had no idea.
However, I was aware of one thing.
Unless he was reminding me that I shouldn't have been born, he never called for me.
When I arrived at his study, the door was partially open.
The only sources of light were the lamp next to his desk and the fireplace's gentle glow, which cast flickering shadows on the walls covered in bourbon and books. With his fingers clenched and his eyes impenetrable, Victor Brooks sat behind his oak desk like a monument of authority.
The room was cold. You're not welcome. I had been able to swallow that bone-deep cold since I was twelve.
I intervened.
"You called for me, Father?" I said, sounding less confident than I would have liked.
He didn't raise his head. simply pointed to the chair across from him. I took a seat.
There was a long period of stillness.
With her legs crossed and her ruby nails tapping regularly on her wine glass, Clarssie was already seated in the corner like a queen at rest.
Pretending not to listen, Seraphina stood by the hearth, adjusting a hairpin. However, I was aware of this.
Even before they said anything, I could sense the trap closing.
At last, Victor raised his eyes to meet me. "There's been a decision made."
Not a conversation.
Not a discussion.
a choice.
I tightened my fingers in my lap.
"You'll be marrying Sebastian Blake."
Time. halted.
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. "W-What?"
"Sebastian. Blake," he said again, as though I had misheard. "The engagement will be announced soon."
I gave a blink. Just once. twice. "I-I don't even know him-"
His voice sliced like ice as he said, "You don't need to." "It's not a matter of romance, Elena. It's business."
Clarssie grinned into her glass. "And family duty."
obligation to the family.
Yes.
I wasn't even permitted to leave these confines, so why was I suddenly valuable enough to be exchanged?
With my throat constricted, I muttered, "Why me?" "Why not Seraphina?"
At last, Seraphina turned, a mocking expression of sympathy lighting up her face. "Oh, sweetheart... Blakes aren't gentlemen. They're powerful, dangerous. Sebastian's known to carry a gun to board meetings. He doesn't do delicate."
Like silk, Clarssie's words trailed behind. "We couldn't possibly risk Seraphina with a man like that. She's the face of our family, after all."
My blood became icy.
That was it.
Because I was disposable, they were sending me-the undesired, the hidden, the backup-to marry into a family based on wealth and blood.
So no one would miss me.
Victor bent over. "This union strengthens both families. It gives us political and corporate protection. It places the Brooks name beside theirs-and ensures Seraphina's legacy remains untouched."
I choked, "And what about me?"
Unmoved, he blinked. "You will fulfill your role."
My part.
I'm quiet.
My submission.
My offering.
I got up too quickly. My chair scraped across the marble, loud and jarring.
I began, "I'm not-," but Clarssie stood up as well, cool and collected.
"You are," she remarked as she approached me. Her well-groomed hand lightly touched my shoulder as if I were a young child who didn't yet comprehend the world. "You'll thank us one day. You've been nothing but a shadow, darling. Now you'll belong to something... greater."
Greater?
Or simply another cage?
Victor raised his voice one final time. "The Blakes want the announcement within the month. You'll behave accordingly or suffer the consequences."
Tears filled my eyes, and my heart pounded.
The room blurred for a second.
I was having trouble breathing.
I didn't cry, though. I refrained from screaming. I already knew the answer, so I didn't ask "why" again.
I lowered my gaze to the ground. Despite the burning in my throat, I forced it down.
I also gave a nod.
That was all.
After that, nobody spoke, as they were not required to.
They thought it was finished.
