ELEANOR
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of me. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. How in the world did Armando expect me to clean this entire mansion all by myself? The place was massive-rooms upon rooms, endless hallways, marble floors that stretched on for what felt like miles. It was a task meant for a full team of maids, not just one person. Yet, here I was, stuck in this nightmare with no way out.
I buried my face in my hands, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. What did I do to make him so angry? Was it the food? No, it couldn’t have been. I made sure to check the seasoning-twice, even. There was no way it was too salty or bland. But then, why was he so furious? The way he erupted at the dining table, the way he threw the tray to the floor, it was like I had committed some unspeakable crime. None of it made any sense.
My thoughts drifted to the possibility of running away. But where would I go? How far could I get before Armando found me? He had eyes everywhere, people who would report back to him in a heartbeat. I was trapped, and there was no easy escape. The idea of trying to flee sent a shiver down my spine. The consequences of getting caught were too terrifying to even consider.
And then there was the way he looked at me, with that intense fury in his eyes, like I was nothing more than an insect he could crush under his boot. I had never seen a man with such a short temper in my life. It was like living in a constant state of tension, never knowing when he would explode again. He was determined to make my life miserable, and I knew exactly why-because I refused to give myself to him like he expected. I wasn’t like the other girls he might have been used to, the ones who probably fell at his feet without hesitation. I had my pride, my self-respect, but it seemed like that only made him angrier.
I sighed, the weight of my situation pressing down on me. Before meeting Armando, I thought I had seen the worst temper in the world. My father’s brother-my uncle-was infamous for his anger. He was supposed to look after me, but instead, he treated me worse than a housekeeper. I remember one time when I accidentally spilled a cup of water while serving him dinner. He didn’t even give me a chance to apologize before he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the kitchen, forcing me to clean the entire room as punishment. He stood there, watching, yelling at me if I missed a spot. At the time, I thought he was the worst person in the world. His temper was unmatched-until now.
Compared to Armando, my uncle’s outbursts seemed almost mild. Armando’s anger was something else entirely. It was cold, calculated, like he enjoyed watching me squirm under his control. Every word he spoke was like a dagger, cutting deeper into my already bruised spirit. And the worst part was, I had no idea how to make it stop. No matter what I did, it was never enough for him.
The more I thought about it, the more helpless I felt. What was I supposed to do? If I obeyed his every command, would it even make a difference? Or would he just find another reason to lash out at me? It was like walking on eggshells, never knowing when they would crack under the pressure.
I leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. The reality of my situation was sinking in more with each passing moment. Armando wasn’t going to change, and neither was the way he treated me. This was my life now, and I had to find a way to survive it. But how? How could I possibly endure this torment every day? I had no answers, only a growing sense of dread that things were only going to get worse.
The mansion, with all its luxury, had become a prison. Every room, every hallway, felt like a trap waiting to be sprung. And Armando was the warden, holding all the power, with no intention of letting me go.
I was lost in my thoughts, sinking deeper into the despair that had become my constant companion, when I heard a soft knock on my door. Startled, I sat up quickly, wiping away the tears that had started to form in the corners of my eyes. The door creaked open just a little, and Isabella’s voice floated through.
“Miss Eleanor, may I come in?”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to be alone, to wallow in my misery without anyone witnessing my vulnerability. But another part of me craved some human connection, something other than the cold cruelty of Armando. I took a deep breath and nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.
“Yes, come in,” I finally said, trying to sound steady.
Isabella pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it gently behind her. She stood by the door for a moment, as if unsure whether to approach me or not. I forced a small smile, trying to ease the tension.
“Please, sit,” I said, gesturing to the chair by the window. Isabella nodded and took a seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
“I wanted to apologize for Mr. Armando’s behavior earlier,” she began, her voice soft and sincere. “I know it was cruel, and I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t let her see how much Armando’s actions had hurt me. I needed to stay strong, or at least pretend to be.
“It’s nothing,” I replied, waving a hand dismissively. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Isabella looked at me with concern, clearly not convinced by my bravado. There was a moment of silence, and then she asked the question I had been dreading.
“Why did you choose to work for Mr. Armando?”
Her question caught me off guard. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly searched for an answer that wouldn’t give away too much. I couldn’t tell her the truth, that I hadn’t chosen this life-that I had been bought like some object at an auction. I forced a smile, trying to keep my tone light.
“I didn’t choose him,” I said carefully. “He chose me.”
Isabella frowned, clearly confused by my vague response. I could see the curiosity in her eyes, the unspoken questions she wanted to ask. But before she could press further, I turned the conversation around.
“What about you, Isabella?” I asked. “Why do you work for Mr. Armando?”
Isabella’s expression softened, and she seemed relieved to talk about herself instead. She took a deep breath before answering.
“I work here because I need the money,” she said simply. “My grandmother is getting old and needs care, and my brother is still in school. The salary I earn here helps me support them.”
I nodded, understanding her situation. It was a familiar story-so many people did what they had to do to take care of their families. But still, I couldn’t understand how she could work under someone like Armando. I couldn’t resist asking.
“But how do you manage?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Armando is… well, he’s not exactly the easiest person to work for. How do you keep up with him?”
To my surprise, Isabella smiled-a real, genuine smile. “Mr. Armando can be very demanding,” she admitted. “But he’s only like that when someone disobeys him or does something that makes him angry. We’ve all learned to avoid that, and he treats us well enough.”
Her words left me speechless. How could she speak so positively about him after what I had witnessed? I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disbelief.
“Treats you well enough?” I echoed, struggling to understand. “But… he’s so rude, so arrogant. How can you stand it?”
Isabella’s smile faded slightly, but she didn’t seem upset. “It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But we all have our reasons for staying. And like I said, as long as you do what you’re told and don’t cross him, things are manageable.”
I nodded slowly, trying to process what she was saying. It was clear that Isabella had found a way to survive in this house, to navigate Armando’s unpredictable temper. But could I do the same? I wasn’t so sure.
Isabella stood up, smoothing her apron as she prepared to leave. “Just be careful, Miss Eleanor,” she advised gently. “It’s better to stay on his good side.”
Does he even have a good side?
I forced another smile, though inside I was still reeling from our conversation. “Thank you, Isabella,” I said quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She nodded and gave me a small, encouraging smile before turning to leave. As she reached the door, she paused and glanced back at me.
“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” she offered kindly.
“Thank you,” I replied, and with that, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
I sat there in silence for a long time, my mind racing. Isabella’s words echoed in my head, but they didn’t bring me any comfort. How could she still have something positive to say about Armando after everything? How could she just accept his behavior as something normal, something to be tolerated?
I knew my situation was different from Isabella’s and the other maids. They might be able to keep their heads down, do their work, and avoid his wrath. But I… I had no such luxury. As long as I kept refusing to sleep with him, he would continue to make my life a living hell. That much was clear.
I thought about the meal I had prepared earlier, the hours I had spent making sure everything was perfect, only for him to throw it on the floor like it was nothing. Why? Was it really just because he didn’t like the food? Or was it more than that? Was it because I dared to say no to him?
I clenched my fists, feeling a mix of anger and helplessness. How was I supposed to endure this? How was I supposed to survive in this house, under his control?