04 An Impossible Dream

Camila

Two Days Later

Looking back, I thought our lives were hard before, but I didn't realise we had some good moments. Now, after what happened with Young Master Ronan, I saw how wrong I was. My mother and I had become the outcasts in the house. 

The other workers treated us like garbage, and Madam Melania had become more cruel than ever. She used to ignore us most of the time, but now she seemed to go out of her way to make our lives miserable. I knew she blamed us for ruining her son's wedding.

When Leah called off the engagement, it was a massive shock to everyone. The fear of losing the friendship with the Semenov family hung in the air like a heavy cloud. And amidst all this, I was the one everyone blamed.

Ronan asked me about the drink, and I had no choice but to take the blame. If I had told him the truth—that my mother put the drink in the Ddecanter and handed it to me—he would have directed all his anger at her. 

Living the way we were, with everyone blaming us, wasn't easy, but it felt like the only way to avoid a worse fate. 

If Ronan decided to bring up the issue again and accuse my mother, it could mean her death. I prayed and hoped that things would get better.

My mother and I were in the kitchen, churning butter together. The rhythmic motion was almost soothing, a rare moment of routine in our otherwise chaotic lives. 

Even though store-bought butter was available, the Morosovs preferred to eat homemade butter made this way.

Suddenly, one of the worker's wives walked in. 

The Morozovs had many workers who were married and lived on the estate, but unlike us, they were paid workers. My mother and I were the only slaves there, and we were treated as lesser beings. 

What had happened with Ronan felt like a funeral to me. The weight of it hung heavy in the air, yet no one bothered to ask how I felt. 

I had lost my virginity and had no idea how it had happened. It was a traumatic experience, but no one cared about the feelings of a slave. 

I was still preparing myself for Master Ronan's inevitable backlash. I knew it was only a matter of time before he confronted me about it.

The woman who entered was named Mirabel. She despised my mother. 

Her husband had made advances toward my mother twice, and she blamed my mother for trying to seduce him. Ever since then, things have been tense between us. Being a pretty slave was no blessing; it only brought more suffering. My mother had endured this, and now it was my turn.

Mirabel's voice was dripping with malice as she sneered at us. 

"Well, if it isn't the home-wrecking whores of Belvaria. Your people got what they deserved. Can't believe you would still wreak havoc even in slavery," She laughed a cruel sound that echoed in the grande kitchen.

Her words cut deep, but I forced myself to keep churning the butter, focusing on the task at hand. My mother and I exchanged a silent glance, a shared understanding of our pain and the endless struggle we faced. 

Every day was a battle for survival, and this was just another moment in our harsh reality.

As I stood there, the churn moving mechanically in my hands, I felt a mix of anger and sadness. Anger at the injustice we faced and sadness for the loss of my innocence and the constant humiliation we endured. 

I could only hope that one day, things would get better. Until then, I had to stay strong for my mother and myself despite the relentless cruelty we faced from people like Mirabel.

"Do not insult my daughter, Mrs Mirabel. We have done nothing to you," my mother said, her voice trembling with restrained anger. I gently touched her hand, trying to calm her, knowing that speaking out could get us into more trouble.

"Nothing? Ruining the Young Master's wedding is nothing? What was she thinking? That she would sleep with him and get him hooked? Probably climb up the social ladder?" Mirabel sneered, her words cutting deep. 

My mother couldn't hold back any longer and yelled at her, the pain and anger clear in her voice.

I could see how much it hurt my mother. It hurt me, too. I had never looked at Ronan that way. I wouldn't dare. He was like the oil that settled at the top, and I was like the water that always sank to the bottom; we could never mix. 

How could I even think of such a thing? 

A slave has only one dream and aspiration, and that is freedom. We can only dare to dream and aspire for greater things when we are free. How could she accuse me of wanting to be with Master Ronan? It was an impossible dream for me.