The old woman screamed.
Daisy froze at the door.
"Too hot! Too hot!"
Steam curled around her face. Her hands shook on the kettle.
"I—I'm sorry, ma. I tried to check—"
"Check? Check? You want me scalded? You want my skin burned?"
"I did not, ma. I—"
The grandmother waved her hand. "I am fine."
Daisy stepped back. Fingers tingling. Red spots blooming. Heart thudding.
The grandson appeared in the doorway. Shadow tall. Face sharp. Cold.
"What happened?" he asked. Voice flat.
"She spilled the water," the grandmother said. "It was too hot. But I am fine."
"You made it too hot," he said. "Careless. Always careless. You could have burned her."
"I—sir—I'm sorry," Daisy whispered.
"You will pay for this."
"I did not mean it."
"You will speak when I ask," he said. His eyes stayed cold.
The grandmother waved him off. "Leave her. First day. No bad intent."
"Her first day?" he hissed. "Is that an excuse for being useless? . She is careless."
He stepped back. Shadow lingering. Eyes never leaving her.
An hour later, he asked for tea.
The maid ran past Daisy. Breath fast. Eyes wide.
"Daisy. Please. My mother called. She is sick. Take the tea to boss. Please."
Daisy held the tray. Her hands shook.
"I will."
She walked to the study. Slow steps. Quiet feet.
He sat behind the desk. Head bent over papers. Face hard.
He looked up.
"Why are you here?"
"The other maid had an emergency, sir."
He watched her. Long. Silent.
"Put it down."
She set the tray on the desk. Steam rose. Her fingers shook.
He did not touch the cup. He watched her face.
Her hair fell to her cheek. She pushed it back.
He saw her skin. Smooth. Dark. Clean.
He saw her eyes. Wide. Wet. Afraid.
He saw her mouth. Small. Soft. Tight.
He paused.
This was the first time he was noticing her fully. Not a cleaner. Not a mistake. A girl.
A beautiful girl.
He leaned back. His eyes stayed on her.
She looked up. One second. Then down.
His chest felt tight. He did not speak.
Daisy held the tray edge. Her hands shook more.
"Go," he said.
She turned fast. Walked out. Heart loud.
He stared at the door. He did not drink the tea.
He kept seeing her face.
Daisy turned the corner.
She walked fast. Eyes down. Tray in hand.
She hit someone.
Porcelain fell. Cups broke. Tea spread across the floor.
Silence.
A sharp breath.
"Are you blind?" the woman asked.
Daisy looked up. Young. Tall. Fine dress. Cold eyes.
"I am sorry, ma," Daisy said. "I did not see you."
The woman touched her dress. Tea stained white silk.
Her hand rose.
A slap.
Daisy's head turned. Ears rang.
"You ruined my dress," the woman said.
"I will clean it, ma."
Another slap.
"Do you know who I am?"
"No, ma."
"I am Stephanie, future daughter-in-law of this house," she said.
Daisy stood still.
Footsteps came.
The stepmother arrived. Eyes hard.
"What happened?" she asked. Voice sharp.
"This girl attacked me,"Stephanie cried out. "She spilled hot tea on me."
Daisy shook her head. "No, ma. I bumped into her. I already apologized ."
The stepmother caught Daisy's arm. Her grip was tight.
"You touched my son's bride," she said. "Who told you to stand near her?"
"I did not mean to."
A slap came. Then another.
The woman looked her up and down.
"So you are the girl my mother-in-law brought home."
"You poor girls chase rich men," the stepmother said.
Daisy swallowed. Tears fell from her face. She wanted to disappear. She hated the woman on sight.
"I only work here," Daisy said. Tears fell.
More steps.
The grandson came.
Tall. Silent. Cold.
"What is this?" he asked.
"She attacked your fiancée," his mother said.
Daisy spoke fast. "Sir, I mistakenly bumped into her. I said sorry."
The fiancée looked at him. Calm face.
"She hit me,"Stephanie cried.
He looked at Daisy.
Long. Hard.
"Polish every floor in this house. Tonight."
Daisy looked up. "All the floors, sir?"
"All," he said. "No help. No rest. Finish before morning."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
Stephanie smiled. A slow smile.
Inside her mind, one thought rose.
He punished her for me. He is falling in love with me.
He turned and walked away.
Joy in her eyes.
Stephanie called his name. She reached for his hand.
He looked at her. Cold eyes. No words.
He left.
Stephanie stood still. Her face fell.
His stepmother held her shoulder. "He has work stress," she said. "Give him time."
"He will love me," the fiancée said.
"Yes," the stepmother said. "You are the right girl."
Two maids laughed behind them.
"Did you see her face?"
They looked at Daisy pitifully.
"Try to stay far away from her next time," one maid said.
Night fell.
Daisy was on the last floor.
Her back ached. Hands stung. Bleach burned.
The grandmother slept. She could not protect her tonight.
A door stood slightly open. East wing.
Curiosity pushed her forward.
She stepped inside.
The room was dusty. Silent. Empty.
No one ever came here.
She walked slowly. Fingers brushed old pictures.
One frame wobbled.
She touched it. It fell. Shattered.
"Why are you here," he said.
"I was cleaning."
He stepped in. Shadow tall. Face sharp. Cold.
He saw the frame. Anger flared.
"No one comes here. No one touches this. No one speaks. No one breaks anything," he said.
He grabbed her arm. Pulled her close. Scratched her arm.
"You are so careless. No wonder your parents died in that fire," he said.
Daisy froze. Heart thumped. Breath caught.
"What?" she whispered.
"You heard me," he said. "It is in your blood. Weakness. Carelessness. danger follows you."
"I did not!" she shouted.
"I am not weak!" she yelled.
"You do not know what I survived! You do not know what I went through all these years!"
He stepped closer. Fingers tight around her arm.
"I tried!" she screamed. "I ran from the fire. I fought to survive. I lived! And you think I am weak?"
He said nothing. Only stared. Shadow long. Eyes sharp.
"I faced death. I lost my parents. I walked the streets alone with my brother. I worked. I survived for him. And now you blame me for everything?" she said.
Her chest heaved. Tears ran.
"You blame me so you do not face yourself. You blame me so you keep control. You think I am afraid. I am not," she said.
He blinked. Hand relaxed for a moment.
Something in him shifted. Guilt. Small. Quick.
"I only wanted to work. I only wanted to live," she said.
"You do not understand me," he said, voice low.
"I understand enough," she said.
"I am alive. You cannot change that."
Her voice shook. Body trembling.
"I survived worse than you. I survived the loss. I survived hunger. I survived fear. I survived the fire. I am still here. I will not bow to your anger."
He stepped back. Shadow still heavy. Face cold.
Daisy covered her face.
She ran. Barefoot. Slipped on marble. Her heart pounded.
She slammed the door. Locked it. Collapsed on the bed.
Tears poured. Sobs shook her.
"I will not break. I will survive," she whispered.
Footsteps echoed outside. Heavy. Measured. Warning.
She pressed against the pillow. Breath shallow. Eyes wide.
Walls felt taller. Shadows closer.
"Daisy," his voice said, low.
Open the door. We need to talk."
She stayed silent. Heart hammering.
The knock came again. Louder. Harder.
Daisy ignored the knocks.
He left for his room.
By the corner, the stepmother stood.
Eyes sharp. Hands tight.
Anger rose in her chest.
She had not seen him like this since his mothers death.
Xiaver, shaken. Guilty. Vulnerable.
She stepped closer.
He must not love this girl.
She would stop it.
Stephanie must be the only woman in his life.
Her jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed.
Fear mixed with anger.
Daisy will not ruin my plans.