Chapter 7

ERICA

The kitchen was filled with the sizzling aroma of bacon, eggs, and toast. I had only intended to prepare a simple breakfast, but the smell of everything cooking made it feel like much more. Every few moments, I glanced at the digital clock on the wall, racing against time to get breakfast ready as early as possible.

Sometimes, it felt surreal—like a bad dream I could not wake up from. This was what my life had come to: a maid and a stripper. And Lilibeth, locked away in some villa, treated like a prisoner. Honestly, it felt like things couldn’t get any worse.

Yesterday, Romano gave me a tour of the mansion, and I had to admit—it was even more luxurious than I had ever imagined.

In the backyard, a large pool sparkled in the sunlight, surrounded by comfortable lounge chairs and palm trees. The backyard stretched far, with a fountain in the center and a perfectly manicured lawn that seemed to go on forever.

Since I had only arrived last evening and had not fully settled in yet, Raffael ordered me to start my duties today. By nightfall, I would be at his strip club. Romano mentioned that a driver would take me there.

Raffael had made me sign a contract yesterday, legally binding me to him as both his stripper and maid.

“Oh, you are up early…little riding slut” a voice chimed from behind me. I spun around, locking eyes with Clarissa.

Internally, I rolled my eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Whatever she says, I won’t let it get to me. I’ll let it slide right off my back.

“Good morning, Miss Clarissa,” I greeted her. She narrowed her eyes with disdain, “What do we have here? You’re preparing breakfast? Smells just like you”

“Yes, it’s my job to do so,” I responded in the most polite tone I could muster.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’m glad you know your place and duties in this magnificent house of mine. You should be grateful that Raffael brought you here. You look like you were picked from the poorest of the poor. You could never, in your wildest dreams, find yourself in such a mansion…” she mocked.

My fists clenched at my sides, but I managed to suppress my growing annoyance and flashed her a mild smile. “You are right. This mansion is far too fancy. But I never wanted to be here. Mr. Raffael brought me here; he went to great lengths to make sure I lived with him.” I picked my words carefully, aiming to spite her.

And it worked. That cunning smile was wiped off her face, replaced by an angry scowl. “How dare you?” She slapped me harshly.

“How dare you act like you’re some kind of prized possession? Saying my man went to great lengths to have you live with him? You owe him a huge amount of money! Don’t you dare feel special or wanted,” she hissed at me.

I narrowed my eyes and pressed my lips into a tight smile. “I’m not trying to feel special. That’s just the truth,” I goaded her further. It was amusing how easily her buttons could be pushed.

She nodded. “Oh really…” She moved past me and went over to the toast I had neatly placed on a plate. In the blink of an eye, Clarissa flung the plate, and it crashed into smithereens, echoing loudly throughout the kitchen.

“Clarissa!” I exclaimed, wide-eyed at her sudden behavior. She ignored me as if I didn’t exist and furiously stepped on the toast scattered on the floor, reducing it to nothing but crumbs.

“Why would you do that? I made this for breakfast, and it has to be served by 8!” I pulled her away from creating more mess.

“Well, you are the maid he so eagerly begged to come live with him, aren’t you? Clean up the mess, maid,” she mocked, a vain smirk on her face.

I glared at her, my chest rising and falling with each labored breath.

“Oh, and be quick about it. It’s already eight on the dot. Raffael doesn’t like a delayed breakfast,” she snickered.

God, this woman makes me so furious!

I shot her one last glare before marching off to get the cleaning supplies from the storeroom.

How am I supposed to endure two years in this house when Clarissa is making my life here utterly miserable for no reason?!

*****************

Clarissa watched Erica leave with a vain smile, her satisfaction growing with every step Erica took toward the storeroom.

The moment the door closed behind her, Clarissa’s eyes darted to the coffee pot on the counter. An idea formed in her mind, and her smile turned even more malicious.

She moved swiftly toward the coffee pot, her fingers wrapping around the salt shaker. With a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching, she began sprinkling salt into the coffee, stirring it in with deliberate care.

Her eyes gleamed with wicked delight as she murmured to herself, “Oh, the coffee needs a bit more spice… maybe a little salt would help.”

Her smirk deepened as she imagined Raffael’s reaction when he took his first sip. The plan was simple but effective.

Erica would serve the ruined coffee, and Raffael, already difficult to please, especially with the delayed breakfast, would surely fly into a rage.

“Poor little Erica… you think you can waltz in from God knows where and try to steal my man from me? What were those silly words you said earlier?

Yes, he went to great lengths to get you to live with him? Utter nonsense. Raffael will never see you as anything more than a pathetic servant. And I’ll make sure of it.”

Satisfied with her handiwork, Clarissa gave the pot one last stir and set it back in place. She wiped her hands clean and hurriedly left the kitchen.