#chaos #past #plan #request #game
Ayra sat at the breakfast table, untouched tea growing cold before her. The silence in the house had become suffocating. No matter what she did, no matter how much she tried to stir the waters, Lucian remained utterly indifferent. He ignored her tantrums, her disruptions, her passive-aggressive antics. He had locked her in this gilded cage and simply left her to rot, acting as if she didnât exist.Fine.She set her cup down with deliberate care and rose to her feet. Without hesitation, she strode out of the dining room, her silk robe flowing behind her. The butler was walking past.âStop,â she commanded.The butler paused, turning to her with polite detachment. âMadam?âAyra folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin slightly. âI want you to inform the staff that they are all fired.âThe butlerâs expression didnât shift, but his silence stretched for a moment too long.âThey have until the end of the day to pack their things and leave,â she continued. âI donât want to see a si
To be fair, Ayra hated this.Hated how cruel and bothersome she had to be.But if Lucian refused to acknowledge her, then she had to force his attention. No matter how ugly it got.....When Ayra stepped into the grand foyer, the staff had already gathered. There were more of them than she had realizedâover a dozen pairs of wary eyes turned toward her as she entered.She could feel their resentment like a thick fog in the air.She took her place on the marble staircase, gripping the banister tightly before speaking. âYou all had a day to leave,â she began, her voice cold. âAnd yet, youâre still here.âThe butler took a step forward, his face unreadable. âAs we have stated, madam, we serve the master of the house. Not you.âAyra let out a quiet breath. She had expected this.âFine,â she said smoothly. âIf you wonât leave willingly, then Iâll make you.âAt her cue, the front doors swung open.A group of people stepped inside, dressed in crisp serving uniforms, their expressions neutral.
By the time the dust settled, the house was eerily quiet.The last of the protesting staff had been escorted off the premises, their voices still ringing in Ayraâs ears.The replacement staff stood awkwardly near the foyer, waiting for orders. But Ayra had none to give.She should have felt victorious.She had made her statement. She had taken control.But all she felt was exhaustion.The butler was the only one who hadnât been forcibly removed. He still stood by the staircase, arms clasped behind his back. Unlike the others, he hadnât fought. He hadnât shouted.And that made him all the more annoying.Ayra met his gaze, a strange tension hanging between them.âYouâre still here,â she observed.âI am,â he replied.âI told you to leave.ââYou told them to leave,â he said with an insipid little look on his eye. âBut you did not fire me.âAyra exhaled through her nose. âDo you really think Lucian would let me? Would he be happy if I did so?âThe butler smiled slightly, but it was devoid o
Nico stepped into Lucianâs office, the weight of his report pressing down on him. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the evening cityscape filtering through the large windows behind the man seated at the desk. Lucian didnât look up immediately, his attention fixed on the documents before him, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood.âSpeak,â Lucian said, his voice low, controlled.Nico took a slow breath before delivering the news. âItâs about Ayra.âLucianâs fingers stilled. He finally looked up, his expression unreadable. âWhat did she do now?ââSheâs replaced the staff.âSilence.Lucian leaned back in his chair, studying Nico with an eerie calm. âCome again?âNicoâs jaw tightened. âShe fired the entire estate staff. Threw them out and replaced them with her own people. None of the original staff are left. Worse, they refuse to return.âLucianâs gaze snapped up. âRefuse?âNico hesitated, then nodded. âTheyâre scared, boss.âLucian scoffed, leaning back in his cha
The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the city as Ayra stepped out of the car, the sleek black vehicle blending seamlessly with the polished luxury of the district. The streets here were lined with designer boutiques, private lounges, and high-end cafĂ©sâplaces that oozed exclusivity, where only the elite could afford to linger. It was the kind of setting she had been raised in for the later part of her life, yet now, standing before one of the finest cafĂ©s in the city, she felt strangely like an outsider.The cafĂ©, Bellaria, was known for its privacy and refinement. It wasnât a place for loud conversation or rushed meetings; here, the rich came to drink imported coffee, discuss business, and subtly flaunt their power. It was exactly the kind of place Lucian would be seen in.That was part of the reason she had come.Ayra pushed open the glass door, a small bell chiming above her head. Inside, the space was decorated in dark wood and gold, the air rich with the scent of roasted co
The message came just before dinner.Leon: Had a great time chatting today. Wouldnât mind another roundâthis time, somewhere quieter?Ayra sat back on the plush sofa of her sitting room, twirling the phone in her fingers. She had been expecting him to reach out. Encouraging it, even. Yet, staring at the message, she hesitated. The line between playing a game and getting caught in it was dangerously thin.But Lucian had yet to react to anything sheâd done. Not the staff replacement, not the disorder sheâd caused in the estate, not even her blatant attempts to provoke him. He remained distant, untouchable, as though she didnât even exist. It burned.Maybe this would be the thing to get under his skin.She typed her response carefully.Ayra: I wouldnât mind that. Where do you suggest?His reply came within moments.Leon: I know a private lounge near the East District. Great wine, even better company.She smiled faintly. He was charming, smooth. Just enough to make this easier.Ayra: Send
The view from the high-rise office should have been breathtaking. The sprawling city bathed in the golden glow of sunset, endless skyscrapers reaching for the heavens and a russet color smeared across the sky. But all Ayra Russo could feel was the tightening grip of dread in her chest, threatening to suffocate her. The pristine glass windows felt like a cage, trapping her in a decision she didnât fully understand.Despite the warm air spilling from the conditioning unit, the room was cold - far too cold.Her father sat across the table, his hands trembling slightly as he pushed a crisp sheet of paper toward her. His voice wavered as he spoke. âIt... is for the best, Ayra. Youâll be taken care of. This... this is your chance at a better life.âAyra felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes and clutched the hem of her coat tightly.She scanned her father's face for any shred of remorse - any sign that he regretted what he was doing - but his face was stoic and stern, his eyes glinting
The days after blurred together into one long stretch of misery. Ayra caught no sight of either her sister or her father during the next three days, secluded as she was in her corner of their mansion. The absence of Lisbeth she could deal with - her elder sister was not the most likable of people - but the fact that her father had all but abandoned her twisted her insides in hate and loathing.Occasionally her thoughts turned to Lucian and her impending... Wedding, as it were. She also couldnât stop replaying the cold certainty in his voice, the way he had claimed her without a second thought, as if her life was nothing more than another business deal to him. It terrified her more than she cared to admit, and while she didn't hold much of an idealized view of her marriage, she did not want it to be... This. She'd spent hours upon hours poring over the contract, studying every word, every clause futilely, just because she refused to sit on her ass and cry like a little girl. The le
The message came just before dinner.Leon: Had a great time chatting today. Wouldnât mind another roundâthis time, somewhere quieter?Ayra sat back on the plush sofa of her sitting room, twirling the phone in her fingers. She had been expecting him to reach out. Encouraging it, even. Yet, staring at the message, she hesitated. The line between playing a game and getting caught in it was dangerously thin.But Lucian had yet to react to anything sheâd done. Not the staff replacement, not the disorder sheâd caused in the estate, not even her blatant attempts to provoke him. He remained distant, untouchable, as though she didnât even exist. It burned.Maybe this would be the thing to get under his skin.She typed her response carefully.Ayra: I wouldnât mind that. Where do you suggest?His reply came within moments.Leon: I know a private lounge near the East District. Great wine, even better company.She smiled faintly. He was charming, smooth. Just enough to make this easier.Ayra: Send
The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the city as Ayra stepped out of the car, the sleek black vehicle blending seamlessly with the polished luxury of the district. The streets here were lined with designer boutiques, private lounges, and high-end cafĂ©sâplaces that oozed exclusivity, where only the elite could afford to linger. It was the kind of setting she had been raised in for the later part of her life, yet now, standing before one of the finest cafĂ©s in the city, she felt strangely like an outsider.The cafĂ©, Bellaria, was known for its privacy and refinement. It wasnât a place for loud conversation or rushed meetings; here, the rich came to drink imported coffee, discuss business, and subtly flaunt their power. It was exactly the kind of place Lucian would be seen in.That was part of the reason she had come.Ayra pushed open the glass door, a small bell chiming above her head. Inside, the space was decorated in dark wood and gold, the air rich with the scent of roasted co
Nico stepped into Lucianâs office, the weight of his report pressing down on him. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the evening cityscape filtering through the large windows behind the man seated at the desk. Lucian didnât look up immediately, his attention fixed on the documents before him, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood.âSpeak,â Lucian said, his voice low, controlled.Nico took a slow breath before delivering the news. âItâs about Ayra.âLucianâs fingers stilled. He finally looked up, his expression unreadable. âWhat did she do now?ââSheâs replaced the staff.âSilence.Lucian leaned back in his chair, studying Nico with an eerie calm. âCome again?âNicoâs jaw tightened. âShe fired the entire estate staff. Threw them out and replaced them with her own people. None of the original staff are left. Worse, they refuse to return.âLucianâs gaze snapped up. âRefuse?âNico hesitated, then nodded. âTheyâre scared, boss.âLucian scoffed, leaning back in his cha
By the time the dust settled, the house was eerily quiet.The last of the protesting staff had been escorted off the premises, their voices still ringing in Ayraâs ears.The replacement staff stood awkwardly near the foyer, waiting for orders. But Ayra had none to give.She should have felt victorious.She had made her statement. She had taken control.But all she felt was exhaustion.The butler was the only one who hadnât been forcibly removed. He still stood by the staircase, arms clasped behind his back. Unlike the others, he hadnât fought. He hadnât shouted.And that made him all the more annoying.Ayra met his gaze, a strange tension hanging between them.âYouâre still here,â she observed.âI am,â he replied.âI told you to leave.ââYou told them to leave,â he said with an insipid little look on his eye. âBut you did not fire me.âAyra exhaled through her nose. âDo you really think Lucian would let me? Would he be happy if I did so?âThe butler smiled slightly, but it was devoid o
To be fair, Ayra hated this.Hated how cruel and bothersome she had to be.But if Lucian refused to acknowledge her, then she had to force his attention. No matter how ugly it got.....When Ayra stepped into the grand foyer, the staff had already gathered. There were more of them than she had realizedâover a dozen pairs of wary eyes turned toward her as she entered.She could feel their resentment like a thick fog in the air.She took her place on the marble staircase, gripping the banister tightly before speaking. âYou all had a day to leave,â she began, her voice cold. âAnd yet, youâre still here.âThe butler took a step forward, his face unreadable. âAs we have stated, madam, we serve the master of the house. Not you.âAyra let out a quiet breath. She had expected this.âFine,â she said smoothly. âIf you wonât leave willingly, then Iâll make you.âAt her cue, the front doors swung open.A group of people stepped inside, dressed in crisp serving uniforms, their expressions neutral.
Ayra sat at the breakfast table, untouched tea growing cold before her. The silence in the house had become suffocating. No matter what she did, no matter how much she tried to stir the waters, Lucian remained utterly indifferent. He ignored her tantrums, her disruptions, her passive-aggressive antics. He had locked her in this gilded cage and simply left her to rot, acting as if she didnât exist.Fine.She set her cup down with deliberate care and rose to her feet. Without hesitation, she strode out of the dining room, her silk robe flowing behind her. The butler was walking past.âStop,â she commanded.The butler paused, turning to her with polite detachment. âMadam?âAyra folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin slightly. âI want you to inform the staff that they are all fired.âThe butlerâs expression didnât shift, but his silence stretched for a moment too long.âThey have until the end of the day to pack their things and leave,â she continued. âI donât want to see a si
Two days later Ayra lay sprawled on the plush velvet chaise lounge in her room, her fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest. The air in the house had grown heavier over the past two weeks. The polished floors gleamed, the scent of fresh flowers filled the halls, and every detail of the house was maintained to perfectionâyet it felt like a lifeless shell. The staff worked diligently, moving about as if on eggshells around her, but no matter what Ayra did, they remained unwavering. Frustrated and angry, yes, but unwavering. Perhaps Lucian paid them more to put up with her antics. She wasnât going to be ignored. If Lucian refused to engage, if the staff refused to react, then she would create a situation that could not be brushed aside.There came in Pedro.He was one of the few people from her motherâs past that Ayra had ever met. He was an old acquaintance, someone who she'd known since she was little. He wasnât exactly a friend, but he had been there, lingering in the backgroun
This became a pattern for a brief while.Lunch? Too cold.Dinner? Not what she wanted anymore.Snacks? She changed her mind after they were made.She sent dishes back multiple times a day, forcing the kitchen staff to remake meals repeatedly before she would eat just enough to keep them from outright rebelling.Within days, the tension in the household thickened. The butler was visibly on edge, the chef was snapping at the assistants, and the maids were whispering amongst themselves in frustration.By the fifth day, the head butler had had enough.Ayra was lounging in the parlor, flipping through a book she had no intention of reading, when he approached. His posture was stiff, his jaw tightâyet he remained respectful.âMadam, forgive my boldness, but may I ask if something is troubling you?âAyra looked up, feigning innocence. âTroubling me? Not at all.âThe butlerâs eyes twitched ever so slightly. âThen may I ask why the staff has had to remake your breakfast four times this morning?
It started with breakfast.The chef prepared the usualâa beautifully plated meal of toast, eggs, and fruit, presented with meticulous care. But as soon as the plate was placed in front of her, Ayra wrinkled her nose.âThis isnât what I wanted,â she said casually, pushing the plate away.The maid hesitated. âMadam, this is what you requested yesterday.ââDid I?â Ayra tilted her head, frowning. âI donât remember. But Iâm not in the mood for this today. Make me something else.âThe staff exchanged glances, but after a slight hesitation, the maid nodded. âOf course.âTwenty minutes later, a fresh plate of food was brought to her. She picked at it, took a single bite, and sighed. âThis is too salty. Can you make it again?âThe chefâs patience visibly thinned, but they couldnât refuse her. She was Lucianâs wife, after all, and despite the slight disregard they had for her, their orders had been to serve her and make her comfortable.But Ayra was just getting started. Breakfast the next day