The floor was colder than death.
Amara Rivers lay sprawled across the polished marble tiles of the Kane family's private kitchen, her blood pooling beneath her like a forgotten spill. The silver blade embedded in her stomach still trembled, the handle catching the glow of the chandelier above.
Her breaths came in short, trembling gasps.
It wasn't the pain that hurt the most.
It was the betrayal.
Heavy footsteps clicked across the tiles—expensive heels she had polished herself every morning.
"Why…?" Amara choked out, her lips trembling. Her hand reached weakly toward the woman walking away.
Cassandra Kane turned around slowly, her ice-blonde hair flawless, her silk gown untouched by the chaos.
She looked at Amara the way one might look at a stain.
"You forgot your place, maid," Cassandra said coldly. "You thought being useful made you important. It didn't."
Amara's eyes widened, tears mixing with blood on her cheek.
"I never—" she gasped, "—wanted him."
Cassandra's expression didn't change.
"And yet, my husband looked at you. That was enough."
She walked away.
The door slammed shut.
And just like that, the woman Amara had served loyally for six years left her bleeding out on the kitchen floor.
Her fingers twitched. Her mind screamed for help. But no one came.
The world turned dim.
Her final breath escaped as a whisper.
---
Darkness.
---
Gasp.
Amara jolted upright, clutching her chest, her skin drenched in sweat.
She wasn't dead.
She was… back?
The small room smelled like old wood and laundry detergent. The rusted fan on the ceiling creaked steadily. Her thin blanket was wrapped around her legs. She looked around in panic.
Her eyes landed on the wall—faded pencil marks where she used to scratch the date of each shift.
January 6th, 2015.
Her throat went dry.
That wasn't possible.
This was ten years ago.
Before Cassandra's wrath.
Before the betrayal.
Before she was murdered.
She stumbled to the small mirror above her dresser. A younger version of herself stared back—rounder cheeks, softer eyes. Her hands trembled.
Tears welled in her eyes, but this time, they burned with something stronger than fear.
Resolve.
They took her life once.
They wouldn't get the chance to do it again.
This time, Amara Rivers wouldn't die a maid.
She would rise.
And she would make them all pay.