Chapter 15: No rest

“Do you think you’re here to sleep?” the woman barked, her voice felt like a sharp whip, on Lucille's body.

Lucille jolted off the bed, her heart racing in her ears.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice trembling.

But the woman wasn’t listening. Her glare almost cut through Lucille's bones.

“Didn’t you read the rules?” she thundered.

Rules? What rules? She had just stepped in. Barely five minutes, and this nightmare had already begun.

She rushed to the desk and grabbed the paper she had noticed earlier. Her hands shook as she unfolded it. Yes, it had the rules.

But before she could even read the first line, the paper was ripped from her fingers.

“Useless girl!” the woman spat. “You should’ve read it earlier!”

Lucille flinched. “I just arrived. I haven’t even settled—”

“Shut up!” the woman screamed, her face twisted with fury.

“Don’t open that dirty, low-class mouth unless I say so!”

Her eyes were blazing now, wild and filled with hate.

“You are here to serve, not to settle down, you stupid little thing!”

Lucille lowered her gaze, breathing deeply, her chest tight. Her hands clenched at her sides. Slowly, she looked up, her eyes meeting the woman’s.

The woman shrieked. “How dare you look at me like that?”

Her voice pierced the air. Her whole body shook with rage.

Lucille’s throat tightened. What had she done to deserve this? Had they met before? Why did she feel so hated by this unfamiliar woman?

She steadied herself. “With all due respect, Ma’am,” she said, her voice low but clear. “I am here to serve Edward Jones. Not you. You don’t get to command me.”

The woman froze, her eyes widening like she’d just been slapped.

“You… you’re talking back to me?” she whispered, her voice dripping with disbelief, and fury.

Lucille sneered, her eyes cold. “So Edward hires fools as staff?”

The woman’s face twisted with rage. Her chest rose sharply as her hand shot up, ready to strike.

But Lucille’s next words froze her in place.

“Don’t you dare,” Lucille warned, her voice firm and low.

“Didn’t your boss tell you why I’m here? I’m under his orders, not yours. And physical assault is off limits. You’re not above the law. Just like I’m not.”

Her voice didn’t shake. Her eyes didn’t blink.

With that, she calmly took the paper from the woman’s stunned hands, returned to the bed, sat down, and began to read.

The woman stood frozen, her raised hand trembling in the air. She couldn’t seem to bring it down.

After a long moment of shock, she finally lowered her hand and stormed out without a word.

Lucille’s eyes swept to the door, still hanging open. She got up slowly, walked over, and shut it quietly. Her fingers lingered on the handle.

She had made her decision. She would serve Edward, and only him, according to the judgment. No one else had the right to boss her around.

After reading the rules from start to finish, she lay down and slowly drifted off to sleep.

A loud knock banged on the door, jerking her awake.

She yawned, her eyes still heavy with sleep, yet, she scrambled off the bed, and hurried to the door. When she opened the door, her breath caught.

Edward stood there. His expression was dark and dangerous.

“How dare you insult her?” he thundered.

Lucille lowered her eyes, trying to fathom what he meant. Then it hit her. He was talking about the woman from earlier.

“Is that what she told you?” she asked, her tone flat and calm, but with a sharp tone that only made Edward angrier.

“You will follow her rules,” he said through gritted teeth. “Her rules are my rules.”

Lucille shook her head slowly, not backing down.

“I’m here to serve Edward Jones,” she said clearly, meeting his eyes.

“Not some woman throwing her weight around. If the rules come from her mouth, they’re hers, not yours. And I, Lucille Clinton, do not follow rules made by anyone else.”

Edward clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

“I repeat, her rules are my rules. I approved them!” he growled.

“And I repeat,” Lucille snapped back, her voice sharp, unwavering, “I will only obey rules and orders from the lips of Edward Jones!”

This punishment was a gift in disguise. No physical contact. No more being passed around like nothing. She had suffered enough. He had allowed her to be mistreated for four long years at the university. Not again. Never again.

“You’re getting too bold,” he spat.

Lucille stepped closer, eyes burning. “Yes, Edward. You made me this way. You shaped me.”

Edward’s chest rose and fell. His heart slammed against his ribs. She was pushing him, defying his orders, like no one else dared.

Lucille tilted her head slightly. “So, tell me. What orders do you have for me, Edward Jones?”

His eyes narrowed. “Clean the entire house. Every inch. Before nightfall,” he spat, then turned and stormed out, slammed the door shut behind him.

Lucille stood still, her mouth slid open. His words echoed in her mind.

The entire house? This mansion was massive. How could one person possibly clean it all before night came?

Her legs felt weak. She walked back to the bed and collapsed into it, her arms limp at her sides.

Maybe, she had gone too far talking back to that woman. But even as regret echoed in her mind, a small part of her refused to accept it.

Lucille left her room quickly, walking down the hallway. But soon, she stopped in the middle of nowhere.

Four hallways branched out from where she stood, each one looking the same.

She turned in a slow circle, eyes searching. No one was around. No sound. No help.

Where do I even start? Where am I going?

Her chest tightened. She spun around and hurried back to her room.

But no, she couldn’t disobey Edward. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction he sought from her pains.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out again and this time chose the hallway to the right.

After walking for a bit, she spotted a slightly open door. She knocked, then pushed it open.

It was a huge kitchen, sparkling and full of shining pots, sharp knives, and modern machines. The smell of herbs filled the air.

A man was inside, quietly chopping vegetables.

The moment she saw him, her heart stirred. His aura… it felt like hers. An omega.

“Hey,” she greeted softly.

He looked up, gave a brief glance, then returned to his cutting.

“I’m Lucille Clinton,” she introduced herself, but he didn’t look again. Didn’t say a word.

She hesitated, then continued. “I was asked to clean the whole house. But… I don’t know where to begin. I just arrived today.”

At last, he turned to face her. His brows pulled into a frown. “The entire house?” he asked slowly.

Lucille nodded.

He shook his head in disbelief. “There are thirteen rooms in this mansion,” he whispered. “That’s not counting the kitchen, the storage rooms, gym, reception, and offices.”

He looked genuinely confused. “How are you supposed to clean all that by yourself? Where are the other servants?”

His voice was soft, and kind.

“It’s my job,” Lucille said quietly. “I’m here for servitude.”

The man froze. His eyes widened with fear and caution. “It’s you?” he asked in a hushed tone. “The one who broke the mate bond?”

Lucille didn’t answer right away. She didn’t have to.

The man quickly looked around, as if someone might be listening.

“Don’t ever say I spoke to you,” he whispered. “We were warned strictly. No one is to talk to you.”

She gave a small, bitter smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

She stepped closer. “What’s your pack?” she asked gently.

“Valleyville Pack,” he whispered. “South of your pack, Downland.”

Lucille’s lips curved in surprise. “You know my pack?”

“Who doesn’t?” he whispered with a faint grin.

“It’s the most talked-about omega pack right now. The only pack where an omega stood against an elite.”

Lucille chuckled softly, pride swinging in her chest. Even here, her story had reached them.

“If you really plan to clean,” the man added, pointing toward the hallway, “you’ll find all the tools and supplies in the third room after the kitchen. Everything you need is there.”

Lucille nodded, her smile wider now. “Thank you.”

She left the kitchen and walked to the room he mentioned.

For the rest of the day, Lucille worked. She swept. She scrubbed. She mopped floors, wiped down windows, cleaned every corner.

Her arms ached, her feet throbbed, but she didn’t stop, not until it was very late at night.

Only one room remained. Edward’s.