Aria Grace
The water hit like a thousand needles. I gasped as it rushed up my nose and down my throat, coughing, choking, clawing at the cold that seemed to seep straight into my bones. My heart pounded, the shock numbing every part of me.
"Shit," a voice cut through the ringing in my ears. It was rough and panicked.
Nikolas.
I blinked through the blur of water and moonlight to see him at the edge of the lake, his eyes wide, his breath visible in the cold air. He looked frozen in place, caught between wanting to help and not knowing if he should.
The lake wasn't deep. Thank God for that, but the chill was unbearable. My body trembled violently as I tried to push myself up, the mud sucking at my hands and knees.
"God, I…" He took a step forward, his polished shoes sinking slightly into the wet ground.
"Wait!" My voice came out sharp, desperate, echoing louder than I intended. He stopped immediately, startled. "I… I'm fine," I managed, shivering so hard the words trembled out of me. "Please… don't. You'll ruin your shoes."
He just stared, silent, as I tried to make my way out. The mud clung to my shoes, thick and heavy, pulling me down with every step. My clothes were plastered to my skin, the wind biting into me with merciless precision. By the time I reached the edge, I could barely feel my fingers.
Nik didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched.
For a fleeting, foolish moment, I thought he might say something, anything… maybe even defend me. Maybe question why his friend, his precious Vincent, had just shoved me into the lake like I was nothing. But the words never came.
Of course, they didn't.
Why would Nikolas Hale, the brother of the woman everyone thought I murdered, defend me?
The silence between us was heavier than the cold wrapping around me. I tore my gaze away, blinking back the hot tears that threatened to mix with the lake water still dripping down my face. Without another word, I turned and walked toward the mansion, my soaked clothes clinging to me, each step leaving a trail behind me.
I was angry. I was humiliated. But I couldn't do a damn thing!
Every step I took through the mansion's long hallway burned with shame. My wet shoes slapped against the marble, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind me… proof of my disgrace. I could feel their eyes on me, the house staff who paused in their chores to stare. I didn't need to hear what they were whispering. I could see it in their smirks, in the way their gazes darted away when I looked up.
The poor, pathetic girl who pushed her luck with the master of the house.
My throat ached as I bit back a sob. I kept my head down and stormed up the stairs, my soaked dress clinging to my skin like a curse. I wiped at my tears angrily, but they wouldn't stop coming… hot, furious, useless.
Vincent Blackwood. Wretched, cruel, heartless Vincent Blackwood.
He had humiliated me in front of his friend, thrown me into a freezing lake, and then, as if that wasn't enough, he had threatened my family. My mother. My sister. The only two people I had left in this world.
And I couldn't even fight back! Because he knew exactly how to break me… not by hurting me, but by dangling the people I loved over the edge.
By the time I reached my small room… that closet, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely turn the doorknob. I slammed it shut behind me, the sound echoing in the tiny space.
Then the strength in my legs gave out.
I slid down the door, the cold wood pressing into my back as the dam inside me broke. The sobs tore through my chest, harsh and uncontrollable. I buried my face in my hands, the smell of lake water and salt mixing as I cried until my throat burned.
I hated him.
I hated the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel so small.
I hated that I couldn't fight him.
But more than anything, I hated that part of me still trembled from the memory of his hands around my neck, squeezing the life out of me. I hated how inhumane he was with me!
I lost track of time sitting there on the floor, still wet, still dirty, still trembling. I cried until I had nothing left in me. My eyes were swollen, my throat raw, my nose running. The tears had stopped, but the ache inside me hadn't.
I didn't want to move. I didn't want to face anyone.
But the chill of my soaked clothes clung to my skin, and my feet were caked with dried mud. I had dragged half the garden into the mansion in my panic, and I knew what that meant: more trouble, more punishment.
Especially now that Vincent Blackwood had proven just how low he could sink.
He wasn't satisfied with breaking me anymore.
Now he was stalking and threatening my family.
That thought alone forced me to move. I didn't have the luxury of falling apart, not when they were counting on me to survive this. Not when this nightmare still had a year to go before it ended.
I pushed myself up, my body heavy, my heart heavier. When I stepped out into the corridor, it was silent, the kind of silence that felt like it was watching you. My eyes fell on the door across the hall. His door.
The sight of it made something sour twist in my chest. I glared at it, the anger bubbling up again, bitter and useless. That was all I could do, glare at a closed door. That was all the power I had left.
Pathetic.
I tore my gaze away and walked down the hall toward the washroom. The tiles were cold beneath my bare feet. I turned the shower on and let the warm water hit my skin, washing away the dirt, the lake water, and whatever pride I had left. For a moment, I stood there, eyes closed, letting the warmth burn against the bruises around my neck until it almost hurt.
When I was done, I scrubbed every trace of mud I had brought inside. I washed my clothes, wrung them out, and changed into another uniform that smelled faintly of soap and dust.
Then, with my heart still pounding but my face carefully blank, I stepped back into the corridor. I walked down the stairs, acting like I hadn't just fallen apart an hour ago. Acting like I was fine.
The muddy footprints still stained the floor, my silent trail of shame, but there was no sign of Vincent or Nikolas anywhere. Thank God for that.
No one had to tell me what to do.
I picked up a bucket and a mop and began scrubbing the floors, trying to erase the evidence of my humiliation. The sound of the mop sliding against marble echoed faintly through the empty hall, mixing with the quiet hum of the night outside. Thankfully, it was late. No one was around to see me like this: drenched, hollow, and broken.
By the time the floor gleamed again, I was completely drained. My body ached, my head throbbed, and my eyelids felt too heavy to hold open. I hadn't eaten a single thing all day, but hunger was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted was to crawl back to my room and sleep… to forget this day, this night, this version of myself that Vincent Blackwood had turned me into.
I put the mop and bucket away and looked for him. I wasn't allowed to leave until he dismissed me, but there was no sign of him anywhere. The mansion was quiet, the corridors empty. He must have gone out with Nikolas.
That realization made my stomach sink. Because if he wasn't home, it meant I had to wait.
I sighed softly and wandered toward a quiet corner of the hall. The other maids could sit where they pleased when work was done, but I didn't have that privilege. I never knew what rules applied to me and which ones Vincent made up just to watch me break them.
So, I chose the floor. It was safer.
I sat down, pulling my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them as I stared at the polished tiles that reflected the chandelier's light. The silence felt endless. Seconds blurred into minutes, minutes into hours. The house slept, but I couldn't. I was too tired to even think, too afraid to move, too numb to cry.
My head started to dip forward, my body surrendering to exhaustion. At some point, I stopped fighting it. I curled into myself, the cold marble pressing against my cheek, and let my eyes close.
And that's how I fell asleep… on the cold floor, waiting for a man who might never let me rest.