Chapter 3
491words
The Sullivans had gangster roots, and despite their legitimate business facade, the household still operated like a crime syndicate. Everyone knew their place, heads bowed, moving with practiced efficiency.
Two made the bed, two approached to untie me, and one stood sentry at the door.
I recognized the door guard—Serena Lewis.
She outranked the others, a supervisor of sorts. She rarely dirtied her own hands, preferring to observe from a distance.
The maid working on my bonds from the left let out a tiny gasp. The sound, though barely audible, cut through the tomb-like silence of the room.
"Fresh meat, huh?"
I glanced sideways at an unfamiliar face—a young woman barely in her twenties. Being assigned to this particular duty on day one spoke volumes.
As expected, she remained silent. The maid on my right shot her a warning look, and she ducked her head lower, as if trying to disappear into the knots she was untying.
When my hands were finally free, I saw what had bound me—a silk scarf. I never wore scarves, much less owned any. He'd gone out of his way to find something special just to degrade me further.
Two maids gripped my arms—prison guards escorting a condemned inmate—and brought me before Serena.
"Madam had quite the evening," Serena said with clinical detachment. "I'll prepare a hot bath to help Madam... relax."
Serena's face remained professionally blank, but her eyes told a different story.
They gleamed with long-denied sadistic pleasure.
Since the wedding, Lawrence and I had maintained a carefully orchestrated public image, giving her few chances to exercise her particular talents.
After her thorough "ministrations," I was dumped back onto the master bed. My bruises now leaked blood through broken skin, though I suppose I should be "grateful" she showed the mistress of the house some restraint.
Finally, it was over. My vision began to swim as consciousness slipped away.
Through the haze, I sensed someone enter. A figure approached my bed, carefully lifted the blanket and raised my clothing. I felt the cool relief of medicinal salve being gently applied to my wounds.
"Not even a whimper from you. Either you're made of steel or you've forgotten how to cry out. Here, drink something."
A cup appeared before me, a straw positioned at my lips.
Despite my confusion, this wasn't the time for pride. Why refuse help when I desperately needed it?
I latched onto the straw and drained the cup without pausing for breath.
She stared at the empty cup and sighed softly.
"Slow down—too much at once isn't good. I'll bring more later."
I wanted to ask her name, but my voice failed me. A strange heaviness spread through my limbs as my thoughts grew foggy.
Pain and exhaustion couldn't explain this sudden drowsiness. Something was pulling me under.
The water... she must have...
Darkness swallowed me whole.
