ELEANOR
Armando barged into my room without warning, the door flying open like it had no weight at all. I jumped, my heart leaping to my throat. He didn’t knock. He didn’t say a word before entering. He just… invaded.
“W-What if I’d been naked?” I stammered, pulling the edges of my nightgown tighter against my body, every inch of me on high alert.
He didn’t even blink. “So what?” His voice was cold, dismissive. “This is my house. I can walk into any room I want, anytime I want. Especially yours.”
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “That doesn’t give you the right to-”
“I own you,” he cut me off, his voice sharp and final. “You’re mine, Eleanor. Don’t forget that.” He took a step forward, his eyes boring into me like I was nothing more than a possession he’d purchased. “You have no privacy here. None.”
His words hit me like a slap. I felt the sting, the weight of his control. I had no say in anything. Not in this house. Not with him.
He was so rude, ugh!
For a moment, I couldn’t move. My body froze under the weight of his presence, every instinct screaming at me to keep as far away from him as possible. I gripped the fabric of my nightgown so tightly my knuckles turned white, as if holding it would somehow protect me.
I had been relieved when I hadn’t seen Armando for days. Ever since that night when he tried to force himself on me, I’d prayed that he’d stay away. Maybe he’d lost interest. Maybe I could just… exist in this house, do my work, and not have to face him.
But that hope was gone now. He was back, and the tension that hung in the air was suffocating.
“I-I haven’t seen you in a while sir,” I managed to say, my voice shaking slightly. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me.”
I really hoped that he would totally forget about me and quit making my life miserable. I hated him so much.
His eyes narrowed, and for a second, I saw something dangerous flicker behind them. “Forgotten?” he repeated, his tone dripping with menace. “Don’t flatter yourself, Eleanor. I don’t forget what’s mine.”
The way he said it, the way he made it sound like I was an object he could pick up and discard whenever he wanted-it made my skin crawl.
“I’m just here to work,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “That’s all I want sir.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “And you’ll work. You’ll do exactly what I tell you to do. But don’t get too comfortable. This isn’t a vacation.”
Armando’s gaze shifted, and I noticed the way his lips twisted into a small, cruel smirk. My stomach churned. He knew. He knew how terrified I was. The power he had over me.
Before I could even react, I felt his hand on my arm, trailing slowly, deliberately down my skin. His touch wasn’t rough, but it was enough to send shivers of discomfort racing through me. I wanted to move, to pull away, but fear locked me in place. Every instinct screamed at me to keep still, to not provoke him any more than he already was.
“You’ve refused me twice now,” Armando murmured, his voice low, almost as if he were talking to himself. But I knew those words were meant for me. “I paid fifty million dollars for you. And for what? So you could deny me?”
I didn’t answer. My throat felt tight, like someone had wrapped their hands around it and squeezed. His hand slid a little lower, and I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to recoil.
“You think I spent that kind of money for a maid?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. “You were bought for one reason. To be my personal slut. To satisfy me, whenever I want. That’s why you’re here.”
I swallowed hard, the fear mixing with anger deep in my chest. I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to speak, even though my voice came out barely more than a whisper. “I’m not… I’m not some object you own sir. I’m not going to do just anything because you paid for me.”
His hand stopped, resting on my hip. “You think you have a choice?” he said, his tone sharp and cold.
“I do have a choice,” I managed to say, even though my heart pounded in my chest. “I’ll do what I agreed to do-work. Be a maid. But I won’t be used like some cheap tool for your satisfaction. I’m not like those other girls sir.”
On days when Armando was around, calling him “sir” became essential to my vocabulary, especially when I sensed he was in a worse mood than usual. What a jerk.
For a moment, he was silent, and I wondered if I had said too much. My body was rigid, every muscle tense as I waited for his reaction.
Then, in an instant, the smirk vanished from his face, replaced with something darker. His hand jerked away from me, and he stepped back, his eyes flashing with anger.
“You think you’re different?” His voice was low, dangerous. “You think you’re special because you’re playing the good girl?”
I stood there, my breath caught in my throat, but I didn’t move. I didn’t dare.
“If you’re going to pretend that you’re here to work as a maid,” he said, his voice rising with every word, “then I’ll make sure you do every single duty a maid does. Every dirty task, every chore. You’ll be nothing but a servant in this house, and I’ll make sure you regret ever thinking you were better than what you are.”
His words cut through the air, each one sharp and filled with venom. I felt my chest tighten, but I forced myself not to look away from him. I couldn’t show him that I was breaking inside, even though every word felt like it was meant to crush me.
Armando took one last look at me with his eyes full of rage before storming out of my room. The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing in the silence that followed.
I stood there trembling, the fear still coursing through me and not long after, I collapsed to my knees sobbing.
None of this would have happened if my parents had stayed together. Why did they abandon my sister and I? Now, I had to endure people like this man just to keep her alive.
God, please help me.