ELEANOR
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. The maid’s dress fit awkwardly on my frame, the stiff fabric clinging to me like an unwanted second skin. I sighed, adjusting the apron that felt too tight around my waist. It had been a few days since Isabella brought it to me, and now I was officially one of Armando’s housemaids. The reality of it sank in deeper with each passing second.
I had avoided leaving my room up until now, relying on the maids to bring me meals whenever I needed food. But today, that changed. Today, I would be walking through Armando’s mansion, being shown around like I was part of his staff-because, in his eyes, I was.
Isabella knocked on my door, her voice soft. “Miss Eleanor, are you ready?”
I took a deep breath and nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I was ready for what awaited me. “Yeah… I’m ready.”
She opened the door and stepped in, her expression kind as usual. “I’ll show you everything Mr. Armando expects to be cleaned. It’s a lot, but I’ll guide you.”
I followed her out into the long hallway, feeling the weight of the house press down on me with each step. The mansion was grand, even more imposing than I had originally imagined. The ceilings were high, chandeliers hanging like jewels from above, and everything seemed to glitter as if it had been polished a thousand times over. Yet, despite its beauty, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage.
Isabella led me to the main staircase first, the golden rails catching the light from the windows. “These need to be polished every day,” she explained, running her hand along the smooth surface. “Mr. Armando likes them to shine.”
I stared at the massive staircase, feeling overwhelmed already. “Every day?” I echoed, my voice barely a whisper.
Isabella nodded. “Yes, every day. He’s very particular about it.”
We moved through the house, room by room, and I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of dread. The dining room was next, with its long, polished table that could seat at least twenty people. Isabella pointed to the chairs. “The dining room needs to be spotless, especially the table. Dust tends to settle quickly, and Mr. Armando will notice if it’s not perfect.”
I nodded silently, my eyes tracing the golden-framed chairs and the crystal glasses that lined the sideboard. How was I supposed to keep all of this clean on my own?
Isabella didn’t stop there. We walked through the living room, where the couches were framed in gold and covered in velvet. “Make sure the furniture is dusted and the cushions are arranged properly,” she said, showing me how to fluff the cushions just the way Armando liked.
I couldn’t believe the level of detail required. The fireplace had to be cleaned, the marble floors polished until they gleamed, and the windows-every single window in the mansion-had to be spotless.
As we walked through each room, the list of tasks seemed to grow longer and more impossible. I felt my energy draining just from hearing about it all.
“Isabella,” I finally said, stopping in the hallway, “this is… this is too much. How am I supposed to do all of this in one day?”
Isabella gave me a sympathetic look. “It’s not easy,” she admitted, “but Mr. Armando doesn’t care about that. He expects everything to be done. He’s always been like this.”
I clenched my fists, feeling the frustration rise inside me. Of course, he didn’t care. Why would he? He was determined to make my life a living hell, to push me until I broke. And the worst part was, he knew it wasn’t possible for me to keep up with all of this work, but that was exactly the point.
We reached the last room, and Isabella pointed to the chandelier above us. “This one needs to be dusted every week. It’s tricky to get up there, but you’ll figure it out.”
I stared up at the massive crystal chandelier, feeling completely defeated. There was no way I could do all of this. Armando had set me up to fail, and I hated him even more for it.
“Why does he do this?” I muttered, more to myself than to Isabella. “Why does he make everything so difficult?”
Isabella sighed softly. “That’s just the way he is. But you’ll get used to it. Just take it one day at a time.”
I wasn’t so sure. I had never been one to back down from a challenge, but this felt different. This wasn’t just about cleaning a house, this was about Armando pawning me in his sick game of control.
Unfortunately this was my life now.
* * * * * * *
I dragged the cloth along the marble floor, my arms screaming for rest, my back aching with every bend. The house was indeed extremely huge-too big for one person to clean, but that didn’t matter to Armando. I was expected to do it all. Every last inch of it, except for his bedroom, his office, and that secret room where he held his meetings with his men. Those places were strictly off-limits.
Isabella had wished me good luck before she left me to my fate. She followed Armando’s orders to the letter, showing me what needed to be done but never once offering a hand or any conversation beyond that. I couldn’t blame her though-she knew better than to go against him.
By the time night fell, I was beyond exhausted. My feet felt like they were on fire, and my head was pounding. I had cleaned every piece of furniture, scrubbed the floors until they gleamed, and polished the golden rails of the staircase. My arms were heavy, my legs weak, and my entire body begged for a break.
I leaned against the wall in my room, too tired to even change out of the maid uniform. My stomach growled, but I didn’t have the energy to eat. The thought of chewing, of lifting a spoon to my mouth, seemed like too much effort. Maybe I could sleep for a while, just to recharge. So I slid onto the bed, the cool sheets a small relief for my sore body.
But just as I was about to close my eyes, there was a knock on the door.
I groaned, rolling over with a frustrated sigh. “Who the hell is it this time?” I muttered under my breath. “Can’t they leave me the fuck alone for one minute?”
Before I could even tell whoever it was to go away, the door swung open and another maid stood there, her expression as cold as the air that seeped into my room. She didn’t even bother to knock twice or wait for permission-just barged right in like she owned the place.
“Mr. Armando sent for you,” she said, her tone sharp. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting. You need to come now.”
I stared at her, too tired to care about her rudeness. She was just another one of his lackeys, following his every command without question. Her attitude disgusted me, but I was too drained to give her a piece of my mind.
“Fine,” I muttered, forcing myself to sit up. My whole body protested the movement, every muscle screaming in pain. But I knew better than to keep Armando waiting else he would find any reason to lash out at me, and I wasn’t in the mood for another one of his outbursts.
The maid just stood there, watching me with a sneer on her face as I struggled to get up. I ignored her, pulling myself off the bed and straightening my dress. My feet felt like they were made of lead, but I kept moving, knowing that if I didn’t go to him now, it would be worse later.
As I walked down the hall, each step heavier than the last, my mind raced with frustration and confusion. Why the hell did Armando want to see me now? After all the work he had me do today, he had to know I’d be exhausted. Was that part of his sick game? Did he enjoy seeing me drained, barely able to stand? Was this how he got his kicks-by breaking me down?
I couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted this time. Maybe he was looking for some new excuse to belittle me, to remind me of my place in his house. Or maybe it was just another one of his power plays, testing how far he could push me before I snapped.
There was absolutely no telling what mood he’d be in. Was he going to be cold and calculating, like he usually was? Or would I see that flash of anger in his eyes again, the same fury he had when he threw my food on the floor, calling it trash?
My mind raced with thoughts of escape-of running far away from this mansion, from this cruel man who seemed determined to break me.
But where would I go? How would I survive? He owned me now, bought and paid for. There was no escaping him, no escaping this life.