The door to the bedroom slammed shut as Damian stormed out, leaving Lina curled on the bed, trembling. The air in the room was heavy with the aftermath of anger and humiliation. Her body ached, and her tears had soaked the pillow beneath her.
Moments later, the door creaked open again. Two maids entered, their faces blank but their eyes betraying a flicker of pity.
“Miss Lina,” one of them said softly. “We’ve been told to help you clean up.”
“Leave me alone,” Lina spat, her voice hoarse from crying. Her hair stuck to her damp face, and her dress hung limply on her bruised shoulders.
The maids exchanged a glance but didn’t move. “We can’t do that,” the other maid replied cautiously. “Mr. Damian gave us orders.”
Lina let out a bitter laugh, her hands clutching the edge of the bed. “Of course, he did. Always giving orders, always making sure everyone knows he’s in charge,” she muttered under her breath.
“Miss Lina, please,” one maid said, stepping closer. “Let us help you.”
Reluctantly, Lina allowed them to pull her to her feet. Her legs shook, and she winced as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her body.
“You should curse him, too,” Lina whispered bitterly, her voice shaking. “You should hate him like I do.”
The maids didn’t respond. They led her into the adjoining bathroom, a pristine space of white marble and gold fixtures. The tub was already filled with warm water, steam rising into the air.
As the maids began to help her undress, Lina swatted their hands away. “I can do it myself,” she snapped, though her fingers fumbled weakly with the fabric.
“We’re here to help,” the first maid insisted, her voice soft but firm.
“I don’t need your help,” Lina growled. She finally let them pull the torn dress off her shoulders, leaving her standing in nothing but her bruises and shame.
The maids worked quickly but gently, guiding Lina into the bath. The warm water stung her raw skin, making her hiss in pain. One of the maids carefully poured water over her hair, her movements cautious and precise.
“You should leave me here,” Lina muttered, staring at the ripples in the water. “He won’t care. He never cared.”
The second maid glanced at her, hesitating before speaking. “Mr. Damian… he isn’t easy to understand.”
Lina scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Understand? What’s there to understand about a monster?”
The maids didn’t answer, their focus remaining on their task.
“He’ll regret this,” Lina whispered, her voice low but filled with venom. “One day, he’ll pay for all of it. Every insult, every bruise, every tear-he’ll pay.”
The maids exchanged another glance but stayed silent. They washed Lina’s hair and gently cleaned her wounds, their hands steady even as Lina continued to mutter curses under her breath.
When the bath was finished, they helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a soft towel. Lina flinched at their touch, her pride stinging more than her bruises.
“I don’t need your pity,” she snapped, pulling the towel tighter around herself.
“We’re only doing our job,” one of the maids replied quietly.
“Your job,” Lina repeated bitterly. “Just like me, then. Just another servant to Damian.
The maids didn’t respond. They helped her into a fresh dress, their hands steady despite her harsh words.
Downstairs, Damian sat alone in the sitting room, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth didn’t reach him. His jaw was tight, and his mind raced with thoughts he couldn’t silence.
He stared into the flames, his grip on the glass tightening. Aurora’s face filled his thoughts-her laughter, her stubbornness, her defiance. She had been different from anyone he’d ever known, and now she was fighting for her life because of him.
The sound of footsteps drew his attention. He didn’t look up as one of the maids approached, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.
“Miss Lina is cleaned up,” she said quietly.
“Good,” Damian said curtly, not taking his eyes off the fire. “Make sure she stays out of my sight.”
“Yes, sir,” the maid replied, retreating quickly.
As the room fell silent again, Damian leaned back in his chair, his head resting against the cool leather. His free hand brushed over the faint scar on his palm, a reminder of a time long past.
“You’ll survive this, Aurora,” he murmured to himself. “You have to.”
The flames flickered, casting shadows across his face. In the quiet of the room, Damian’s resolve hardened. He wouldn’t stop until he had destroyed everyone who had a hand in hurting Aurora. Starting with Lucas.