Twenty _Five

Rose Alexandria Sinclair;

“Is it true, Jessica? Did you really hit her?” Ma’am Sarah’s voice thundered through the room, sharp and commanding. Jessica immediately burst into her infamous crocodile tears, sniffling dramatically.

“It was an accident… Rose has been mean to me and my friends,” Jessica stammered, clutching my hands as if we were the best of friends. “Rose... I’m sorry!”

I yanked my hands away, my expression one of pure disbelief.

“What? Are you serious right now?” I snapped. “You hit me, slapped me, and your little squad treats me like dirt! And now you want to play the victim?”

Before I could say another word, Ma’am Sarah’s stick landed sharply on the back of my head.

“Enough!” she barked, her face stormy. “In all my thirty years working here, I never thought I’d see this level of foolishness!”

Jessica immediately dropped to her knees, tears pouring like a waterfall. “I’m so sorry, Ma’am Sarah! Please, forgive me!”

I ruffled my hair, my frustration boiling over. “This is insane...”

Ma’am Sarah didn’t waver. Her voice was calm but firm. “Fine. From now on, both of you will work the night shift. Together. Alone.”

Jessica and I gasped in unison. “What?! No, you can’t do that!”

“Please, Ma’am Sarah, reconsider!” Jessica begged.

But Ma’am Sarah didn’t so much as blink. “You’ll learn to tolerate each other, or you’ll both learn how long the nights can be. Take your pick.”

This was going to be a nightmare.

"With that, Ma'am Sarah dismissed me with a sharp, 'Go back to your dorm!' I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes as I turned to leave.

Behind me, Jessica trailed along, mumbling under her breath like she was the victim here.

'Did you really have to report this? It wasn’t even that serious!' she snapped, rolling her eyes as if she was the one inconvenienced.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face her. 'You hit me on the head hard enough to make me pass out and bleed, and you think that’s not a big deal?'

'Well, I’m sorry, okay?' she hissed, throwing her hands up before storming off in a huff.

Jessica. A mini devil in human form. Everything about her—how she walks, talks, and thinks—screams chaos. Honestly, I think she’s lost her mind entirely.

When I got to my room, Nathalie was sprawled out on my bed, dead to the world. With a sigh, I nudged her over enough to claim a corner of the mattress and sat down, my thoughts spinning in overdrive.

Trauma? The doctor’s words echoed in my head. But I’ve never been in a car accident. Never anything like that. Should I call Pa and Ma? Ask them what really happened when I was little?

Before I could spiral further, Nathalie stirred, groaning as she turned over. “You okay? You look like your life’s gone straight to hell,” she said, half-lucid, one leg casually flopping onto mine.

“No, I’m not okay,” I muttered. “I had this...serious dream, and—ugh, you know what? Screw it.” I gave up, flopping onto the bed beside her.

She shifted closer, tucking the blanket around me like I was a kid. “Easy, easy, honey. It’s just a dream,” she murmured, her voice warm but groggy.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a good one,” I grumbled. “It was the worst.”

“Dreams are dreams,” she said with a shrug. “Don’t let it eat you alive.”

"Thanks... You're the best," I said, my voice muffled as I buried my face in the pillow.

"Better than Edward?" Nathalie asked with a mischievous grin, her eyebrows waggling.

I couldn’t help but laugh. "Idiot. Of course not. Edward is hot and sexy..." I let the words drip with mock seduction, biting my lower lip dramatically.

Nathalie smirked, leaning back against the headboard. "Yeah, no kidding. I heard you calling out his name in your dreams last night!"

My eyes snapped to hers, wide with horror. "You what?"

She nodded, clearly relishing my embarrassment. "Oh, I heard it all. You were like, 'Yes! Yes! Faster!' and moaning like you were staring at your own personal drama."

I grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at her, but I was laughing too hard to aim properly. "Shut up, Nathalie!"

She caught it with ease, howling with laughter. "I’m just saying, girl, your subconscious? Bold as hell!"

"God, you’re the worst," I groaned, covering my face with my hands to hide the burning blush creeping up my neck.

"Don’t be mad," she teased, scooting closer. "Honestly, I’m impressed. Dream Edward sounds like a real crowd-pleaser."

"Please stop," I mumbled, my voice muffled by the pillow.

"Or what? You’ll scream 'Edward' again?" she teased, laughing uncontrollably.

I peeked at her from under the pillow, rolling my eyes. "You know, one day I’m going to find your embarrassing secrets, and it’s over for you."

"Sure, sure," Nathalie said with a dismissive wave. "But until then, let’s talk about strategy. How are you going to make Dream Edward, meet Reality Edward?"

"Nathalie!" I shrieked, hitting her with the pillow again, but her laughter only grew louder.

"Hey, I’m just trying to help," she teased, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "If your dreams are that steamy, imagine the real thing."

Later that day...

I was helping the gardener arrange a row of jasmine plants when a voice interrupted, sharp and authoritative. "Boss Frederico wants you. Now."

I wiped my hands on my apron, trying to mask the unease curling in my stomach. With a quiet sigh, I left the garden behind, trailing dirt and half-formed thoughts into the mansion.

The private lounge greeted me with its suffocating luxury, but it wasn’t the lavish decor that stopped me cold. There she was—a tall blonde woman draped in elegance, her lips pressed against his. Against Frederico's.

I froze mid-step, my heart twisting with something raw and unwelcome. Anger, jealousy? I couldn't tell. All I knew was it burned.

Frederico’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as he leaned back on the luxurious velvet sofa, casually brushing a strand of blonde hair from the woman’s face. “You’re just in time,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Pour us some wine, would you?”

I swallowed hard, my fingers clenching against the fabric of my apron. It wasn’t my place to question him—not in this house. So, I nodded stiffly, moving toward the bar cart against the wall. The weight of his gaze on my back was impossible to ignore, his amusement practically tangible.

“Red,” he added, his voice low and deliberate. “Something rich. Seductive.”

I knew exactly what he was doing, and it made my blood simmer. As I uncorked the bottle, I could hear the faint murmur of their conversation behind me, punctuated by the sound of soft laughter. Hers, light and airy. His, darker, more calculated.

When I returned with two glasses of crimson wine, Frederico’s hand rested lazily on the blonde’s thigh, his fingers trailing patterns against her silk dress. He took the glass from me without looking, his focus entirely on her.

“Don’t just stand there,” he said smoothly. “Stay. You might learn something.”

My breath hitched, but I forced myself to remain composed. Was he really doing this—toying with me like I was nothing more than another pawn in his twisted game? I wanted to walk away, to slam the door behind me, but my feet stayed rooted to the floor.

Frederico’s eyes finally flicked toward me, sharp and assessing. “I said stay.”

And so, I did.

The blonde giggled softly, her manicured nails tracing lazy patterns across Frederico’s chest. She whispered something in his ear, her lips brushing his skin, and he smiled—a slow, calculated curve of his lips that made my stomach churn.

She didn’t know. Of course, she didn’t. To her, I was nothing more than a maid standing at the edge of the room, invisible, insignificant. A shadow.

But Frederico? He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Wine’s perfect,” he said, lifting his glass in a mock toast before taking a slow sip. His dark eyes never left mine, sharp and deliberate, gauging every flicker of emotion I couldn’t quite hide.

“I can't wait…You know my dad said we can get married anytime…” she said and he nodded, pulling her to a disgusting kiss.

Or maybe it was disgusting because it wasn't shared with me.

The blonde draped herself over him, her laughter a light melody in the suffocating room. “Frederico, you spoil me,” she purred, tilting her head to kiss him again. This time, it wasn’t soft or shy. It was possessive, her hands sliding into his hair as though staking a claim.

I shouldn’t have looked. I knew I shouldn’t have. But my eyes betrayed me, darting toward them for a fraction of a second too long.

When Frederico’s lips broke from hers, his smirk deepened, his gaze locking onto mine like a steel trap. “She does good work, doesn’t she?” he said, his tone casual, as though discussing my cleaning skills rather than what he knew was unraveling inside me.

The blonde turned to glance at me briefly, her smile polite but dismissive, then went back to stroking his arm. She didn’t see it—the silent war waging between us. But he did. And he thrived on it.

I dropped my gaze to the floor, gripping the tray tightly to keep my hands steady. I wouldn’t look again. I couldn’t.

But then I felt it—the weight of his attention pressing harder. I didn’t need to see his face to know what was there: the smirk, the challenge, the dare. I could feel it, like heat crawling up my spine.

“Stay,” he commanded, his voice low and sharp, slicing through the air like a knife.

I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The blonde leaned into him again, her laughter softer this time, as though sharing some private joke. I wondered if he even cared about her—or if she was just another piece on the board, a pawn in whatever twisted game he was playing with me.

But when my eyes flicked back up—against my better judgment—it wasn’t him I looked at. It was her.

And for a moment, I envied her. Not for her beauty or her confidence, but for her ignorance. She didn’t know what it was like to be trapped under his thumb, to feel the weight of his gaze and wonder if it was hate or something worse.

She smiled, oblivious, her fingers tracing his jawline as though I wasn’t even there. And in that moment, I hated her, too.

Not because she had him, but because she had no reason to cry.

I clenched my jaw, swallowing the lump in my throat, and forced myself to focus on the tray in my hands. Frederico’s voice broke the silence, rich with amusement. “Anything else, Rose?”

I looked up, my face blank, my voice steady. “No, sir.”

“Good.” His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes burned with something I couldn’t quite name. “You’re excused. For now.”