That night ended like an endless nightmare.
Alexander hadn’t taken her virginity completely, yet he had robbed her of something far more precious: her sense of safety and her dignity.
Throughout the night, the Crown Prince’s cold fingers and suffocating lips roamed over every inch of her skin, leaving behind marks of absolute power that pushed Elena to the very brink of madness.
Not a single cry for help escaped the room.
Alexander had gagged her securely with her own undergarments, then bound her wrists to the headboard using his fine silk cravat.
As those forced touches burned her skin, Elena’s exhausted body reacted mechanically—a gasp, deliberately provoked by Alexander, slipped past her throat, drawing a satisfied chuckle from him.
But behind that forced gasp, her soul screamed in agony.
It was the first touch of her life, and it had been merciless, revolting, and utterly soul-crushing.
The following morning, beneath the icy stream of the servants’ washroom, Elena scrubbed her skin until it turned raw and stinging.
Tears mingled with the water streaming down her pale, hollow face.
“Disgusting…
This is so disgusting,” she whispered repeatedly, her voice trembling.
She felt entirely contaminated.
Beneath the dim lighting, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Kissmarks—the bruised remnants of Alexander’s forceful bites and kisses—were scattered across her neck, collarbone, and chest like grotesque stains.
Panic seized her chest.
If the other maids saw these marks, the rumors labeling her a scheming whore would be set in stone.
With trembling hands and ragged breath, Elena grabbed a bowl of cassava starch from the kitchen.
She smeared a thick layer across her neck and chest to disguise the silver and reddish hues of the bite marks.
She then pulled on her long-sleeved servant outfit, adding extra coverage.
Normally, when working in the laundry area or the kitchen, Elena would roll up her sleeves to move more freely.
Today, she let the heavy fabric cover her arms entirely, even as it became soaked with soapy water and sweat.
She endured the stifling heat and discomfort, as long as last night’s dark secret remained buried.
Amidst the trauma clouding her every step, Elena’s sole comfort was the fact that the Crown Prince was scheduled to depart the following morning.
Alexander would return to the imperial castle, and she would finally be able to breathe again, at least for a little while.
Yet fate seemed to delight in playing cruel tricks on her.
That evening, as Elena lay flat on her mattress with an aching body, trying to shut her eyes, the hushed murmurs of Daisy and Emily pricked her ears.
“Have you heard the news?
His Highness’s party canceled their departure for tomorrow!” Daisy whispered from the adjacent cot.
“Why?
What happened?” Emily asked, instantly curious.
“Word is that while inspecting the mining site this afternoon, there was a rockfall.
His Highness was injured and requires intensive treatment from the royal physicians here.
He can’t travel long distances, so he has to stay at the mansion for a few more days!”
Thump!
Elena buried her face into her pillow, punching it with all her strength.
Tears soaked the dingy fabric once more.
Her world collapsed for the umpteenth time.
The fragile glimmer of hope she had just built was shattered to pieces.
The demon wasn’t leaving.
He was still under the very same roof.
In the dark of the night, Elena clasped her hands together and prayed fervently.
She begged for Alexander’s injuries to be severe enough to keep him bedridden, or at the very least, severe enough to ensure their paths would never cross again.
The next day, panic swept through the main mansion and kitchen.
The royal physicians required continuous supplies of medicine and hot compresses to treat the Crown Prince.
Initially, senior servants were tasked with delivering the medicine trays upstairs.
However, chaos suddenly erupted.
Lady Clementine fainted from sheer anxiety over her fiancé, forcing the head servants to tend to her immediately.
At the same time, the kitchen supervisor summoned the remaining laundry maids to clear out the mess in the storage room.
Elena was left standing frozen in the corner of the hallway, holding a tray of medicine.
“Elena!
You!
Why are you just standing there daydreaming?!” the head servant barked, out of breath.
“Take this medicine tray to His Highness’s room right now!
Hurry!”
“B-but, ma’am…
I am just a laundry maid, I shouldn’t—”
“No excuses!
Everyone is busy!
Take it upstairs, or I’m docking your pay this month!”
Elena had no choice.
With trembling knees and a heart hammering against her ribs like a sledgehammer, she walked down the carpeted corridor toward the grand bedchamber on the upper floor.
Every step felt like a march to the gallows.
Outside the Crown Prince’s room, two personal knights stood guard, Hugo and Alaric.
As Elena approached with the tray, both knights looked at her.
Yet, there was something different in their eyes today.
The cold indifference was gone.
Hugo stared at her with a deep sense of guilt and grave concern, as if he knew precisely what hell she had endured the night before.
Alaric merely averted his eyes, unable to face Elena’s pale complexion and split lip.
Both of them knew they were powerless against the desires of their future Emperor.
“Go on inside, Elena,” Hugo said softly, his voice heavy as he opened the heavy oak door.
Elena gave a faint nod, not daring to meet Hugo’s eyes.
She stepped into the room, which smelled heavily of sandalwood and medicinal herbs.
Residing on the lavish canopy bed, Alexander sat propped up against the pillows.
His right arm was wrapped in thick white bandages, proving that the news of his injury was indeed true.
His face was slightly pale, but his ocean-blue eyes still radiated a terrifying aura of dominance.
Elena kept her head bowed low, setting the tray down on a small table near the door.
“I…
I have brought your medicine, Your Highness.
I take my leave.”
However, just as Elena turned around and reached for the door handle to escape, a movement occurred as fast as lightning.
Despite his bandaged arm and injuries, Alexander possessed extraordinary physical strength for a wounded man.
In one swift, powerful motion, his fingers clamped around Elena’s wrist.
Yank!
“Aah!”
Alexander pulled her plump frame with a forceful jerk, throwing her onto the bed right beside him.
The heavy wooden door slammed shut, locked by a subtle gust of wind magic.
Elena thrashed, instinctively throwing a strike toward his chest, but Alexander effortlessly pinned both of her wrists above her head using his uninjured hand.
His massive frame hovered over her, trapping her completely within his reach.
“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” Alexander whispered directly against her ear, his warm, medicine-laced breath sending chills straight down her spine.
“Did you really think a minor injury like this would be enough to make me let you go?”