Cold water dripped from the ends of the linen sheet Elena was wringing out, hitting the damp stone floor of the washhouse with a rhythmic ‘tap, tap, tap’.
Yet that sound was completely drowned out by the thundering beat of her own heart.
Her hands, swollen, raw, and vivid red from hours of being submerged in soapy water, had long gone numb.
She could no longer feel the sting of her peeling skin.
Elena’s mind drifted far away, trapped inside a dark labyrinth with no way out.
‘What is all this for?’
The question repeated on a loop in her head, crashing against her sanity like waves against jagged rocks.
‘Why do I let myself be degraded every single day?
Why do I let Clementine call me a pig, pour scalding tea over my hands, and trample on what little dignity I have left?
Why am I eating near-spoiled scraps and sleeping on a freezing bed of straw?’
Wasn’t all this suffering endured for one simple reason?
So she could survive, scrape together whatever money she could, and one day return to the embrace of her family.
She just wanted to go back home–a small, dilapidated house on the outskirts of the capital where her ailing father always welcomed her with a warm smile, and where Ryan, her older brother, fought endlessly to keep them afloat.
A home where she and Ryan had promised to protect each other after their father’s title of Marquess was stripped away.
Yet that warm memory of home had morphed into a horrifying nightmare.
“Tomorrow morning, the only news you’ll receive is that your father was found dead in a dreary capital alleyway…”
Alexander’s cold, low voice echoed through the dark corners of her mind.
It was no empty bluff.
Elena knew all too well how effortlessly the Crown Prince could make good on that threat.
In Alexander’s eyes, the life of a disgraced, impoverished Marquess was worth no more than that of a sewer rat.
One squeeze of his trained hands, and her father’s breath would be snuffed out forever.
Tears spilled from Elena’s eyes, falling silently into the murky water of the washbasin.
Her hands, still clutching the cloth, froze.
Nausea twisted her stomach as she desperately searched for a loophole, any way to fight back.
‘Should I report him?
Should I beg for help?’
But to whom?
Who in this vast empire would dare risk their neck for a lowly maid with the mark of a former slave?
No noble knight in shining armor was coming to rescue her.
Even if she met the kindest man in the world and married him, he would still be utterly powerless against Alexander’s grasp.
Alexander’s power was absolute.
Behind him stood the worshipped Emperor and the Empress who commanded the largest noble faction in the realm.
Alexander was the law itself.
Defying him was synonymous with shoving her father and Ryan off a cliff toward an early grave.
“Why does it have to be like this…” Elena whispered, her voice cracking in the empty room.
“Why does a monster like him get to decide whether I live or die?”
Rage flared in her chest, only to be instantly smothered by a wave of suffocating despair.
She realized that clinging to her “dignity” in a situation like this was nothing more than selfish foolishness.
If she stood on her high horse, her father would die, Ryan would be slaughtered, and her mother would be driven mad by grief.
Everything she had endured up to this point would become entirely meaningless.
‘My dignity isn’t worth a damn if it costs my father his life,’ Elena thought, her chest tightening so hard she could barely draw breath.
‘If my body is the price I must pay to keep Father breathing and Ryan safe…
then so be it.’
That single thought shattered what remained of her soul.
Elena sobbed, slumped over the washbasin as violent tremors wracked her body.
She had finally surrendered.
She had chosen to step directly into the devil’s game.
That evening, the sky above the Grand Duke’s estate was pitch-black, devoid of stars, as though mourning Elena’s ruin.
Elena walked down the dimly lit corridors with fingers as cold as ice.
To guarantee that she was the only one delivering dry clothes to the Crown Prince’s bedchamber tonight, she had done something she never imagined herself capable of.
During dinner, she had slipped a potent laxative herbal brew into the soup belonging to Martha, the maid originally assigned to the task.
Recalling Martha’s pained face as she clutched her stomach made Elena’s own stomach churn with guilt.
But she had no choice.
If another maid went in her place, or if Alexander assumed Elena was defying his command, the news of her father’s death would arrive by sunrise.
“Elena…
please take over for me…
I-I need to get to the toilet, arghh!!!” Martha groaned from behind the door of the servants’ washroom.
“I will take care of it, Martha,” Elena replied, her voice flat and hollow.
She carried the heavy wooden tray holding Alexander’s dry clothes, her grip so fierce her knuckles turned stark white.
Every step up the grand staircase felt like a march toward an executioner’s block.
Her heart felt dead inside, leaving behind only a terrifying, numb acceptance.
Two imperial guards stood watch outside the massive oak doors.
Hugo looked up as Elena approached.
A subtle flash of pity flickered in the knight’s eyes as he took in her ghastly, pale face, but he didn’t utter a word.
He merely bowed his head and pushed the heavy door open.
Elena stepped inside.
The sharp, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and cold snow hit her senses immediately.
The room was bathed in dim, amber firelight from a few flickering candles.
Propped up comfortably on the expansive canopy bed sat Alexander.
His black silk robe was parted at the chest, exposing warm skin and the firm contours of his torso.
His bandaged right arm rested casually on his lap.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Alexander turned his head.
His piercing blue eyes swept over Elena from head to toe.
A slow, cruel smile of absolute triumph spread across his lips.
Alexander wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
He had known with absolute certainty that this girl would never have the stomach to sacrifice her own father.
“You’re right on time, my little pig,” Alexander purred, his low voice slicing through the quiet room.
He flicked his hand casually, gesturing to the empty space on the mattress right beside him.
“Set the clothes down over there…
and come here.”
Elena locked eyes with those merciless blue depths, squeezed the wooden tray in her hands, and slowly took her first step toward the devil’s bed.
Make sure to add this to your library!