Grace's pov
The smell of fried eggs and sizzling bacon filled the Henderson's kitchen before the sun even touched the sky. My hands moved quickly flipping, stirring, turning like they'd learned to do it on their own. I didn't need to think anymore. Wake up, cook, clean, and keep my head down. That was how every morning went.
Working in the Henderson's house wasn't something I chose. My parents were rich, wealthy to say the least but they had been killed. I remember that night like it was yesterday. The killer's face is still vivid in my memory.
The Henderson's had taken over my family empire and kept me. They always said I should be grateful they didn't kick me out. Maybe that was true. But there was only one reason I stayed and bored their harsh treatment. Revenge. I needed to buy time and just when it's right, I'll strike.
I placed the last plate on the long dining table just as footsteps echoed on the stairs.
I didn't need to look up to know it was Lilian. The sharp click of her heels, the soft but proud way she exhaled, everything about her screamed authority. She was the Henderson's only daughter, beautiful, smart, and cruel in the quietest ways possible.
"You're late," she said, her voice cold enough to make my skin prickle.
"I started before dawn," I replied softly, keeping my eyes on the table.
She gave a short laugh. "Then you're slower than I thought."
Her words stung, but I didn't answer. It never helped to argue with Lilian. She liked making me feel small, and the more I spoke, the more reasons she found to remind me that I wasn't her equal.
I turned away to wipe the counter, pretending her words didn't touch me.
Lilian sat at the table, scrolling through her phone. "You still go to school after this, right? How do you even have time for that?"
"I manage," I said, keeping my tone steady.
She smirked. "Well, don't get your hopes up too much. People like you don't end up anywhere good."
I bit my lip hard enough to stop myself from replying. It wasn't the first time she'd said something like that, and I knew it wouldn't be the last.
When I finally left the house, the morning air felt like freedom. I breathed it in deeply, clutching my bag close. The walk to school wasn't far, but every step away from that house made me feel lighter.
I arrived at the campus fifteen minutes later and I was greeted with lively sounds and colors. Students hurried across the courtyard, laughing, talking, calling out to one another. I blended in as best as I could, though I knew I was different. Most of them came from strong families in the society—wealthy, respected. I was just the daughter of a...well, an orphan.
But there was one person who never made me feel like I didn't belong, Steve.
I spotted him near the fountain, his dark hair catching the light. The moment he saw me, he smiled, and just like that, all the tension I'd been holding melted away.
"Hey, beautiful," he said, pulling me into his arms.
I laughed softly. "You're early."
"I couldn't wait," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I missed you."
I rolled my eyes. "You saw me yesterday."
He grinned. "Still counts."
That was the thing about Steve, he made everything feel easy. He wasn't from a high-ranking family either, and maybe that was why we understood each other. With him, I didn't have to pretend.
Classes went by quickly. I tried to focus on the lectures, but my mind kept drifting to the way Lilian had looked at me that morning, to the faint ache in my chest that never seemed to go away.
When the last bell rang, Steve walked me to the gate.
"There's a party tonight," he said suddenly. "At the frat house near the east field. Everyone's going."
I hesitated. "You know I'm not really a party person."
"Come on, Grace," he said with that boyish smile of his. "You've been working too hard. Just for tonight, have some fun with me."
I looked at his hopeful face and sighed. "Fine. One hour. No more."
He grinned wide. "Deal."
******
The frat house was already alive with noise when we got there. Music thumped through the walls, lights flashed, and people laughed loudly, drinks in hand. I followed Steve through the crowd, trying not to bump into anyone.
He handed me a cup of something sweet and strong. "You'll like this."
I took a sip and smiled faintly. "You were right."
For a while, everything was fine. We danced, we laughed, we talked. It almost felt like I belonged here. Like I wasn't just the girl who cleaned the Henderson's dishes every morning.
Then I lost sight of him.
At first, I thought he'd gone to get another drink. But when ten minutes passed, then fifteen, I started to worry. I pushed through the crowd, calling his name but I got no response.
Fortunately, I saw one of the guys he usually hangs with. I asked if he'd seen Steve and he pointed me upstairs.
I checked the doors one by one and saw one which was slightly open. I pushed the door open just a crack, my heart pounding from the climb up the stairs. The room was dim, lit only by a cheap lamp on the nightstand, but it was enough. Enough to see Steve on the bed, his back to me, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. Samantha was under him, her long legs hooked over his shoulders, her red nails digging into his back. Her head was thrown back, mouth open, and every time he pushed in deep, she let out this low, breathy moan that echoed in my skull.
"Ah, yes… right there," she gasped, her voice husky and loud, like she wanted the whole house to hear. Steve grunted, his hands gripping her thighs, pulling her closer with each thrust. He drove into her hard, the bed creaking under them, his body slick with sweat. I couldn't move. My feet were glued to the floor, my hand still on the doorknob. I watched as he pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in, deep, so deep that Samantha arched off the mattress, her moan turning into a sharp cry.
"Steve… harder," she begged, and he gave it to her. Faster. Rougher. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with her moans, high, needy, nothing like the quiet whispers he used to give me. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and he leaned down to kiss her neck, biting, sucking, like he couldn't get enough.
I stood there, frozen, watching my boyfriend, my Steve, lose himself in her. His hips rolled, grinding deep, and she clawed at his back, leaving red lines. "I'm close," she whimpered, and he growled something I couldn't hear, thrusting even harder, the headboard banging against the wall now.
That's when Samantha's eyes flicked open. She saw me. And instead of stopping, instead of shame, she smiled. A slow, cruel smile. "Oops," she said, breathless, still rocking against him. "Looks like we've got company."
Steve froze, then turned. His face went white. "Grace—"
But I was already moving. The spell broke. My legs worked again. I backed out, slammed the door so hard the frame shook, and ran.