Nellie rushed to play the saint, glancing at me with faux concern. “Lucia, come on… Mr. Grant might really think you faked that fall…”
I gritted my teeth and glared at her coldly.
Steven saw me glaring at Nellie and yanked me up off the floor.
“Nellie’s milk came in. She’s gone through a pile of dirty clothes. You’re going to wash them. By hand. Then you can leave.”
I jerked my arm free. “Why would I do that?”
He replied, “Because you just bullied her. You owe her an apology.”
I forced myself upright despite the searing pain in my foot. “Keep dreaming.”
His eyes iced over. Without another word, he shoved me into the bathroom.
Bang!
The door slammed behind me—and locked.
“Steven! Are you kidding me?! This is illegal—you're actually locking me in!” I twisted the handle, yanking it hard. “Let me out! Open the door!”
I slammed my palms against the wood. Silence outside. My hand stung from the impact. My foot throbbed with pain.
The room reeked—sour breast milk, dirty laundry and vomit. It was suffocating. I eventually slid to the floor, knees giving out, completely drained.
Then came Nellie’s voice—soft, sugary and fake—muffled through the door.
“Mr. Grant… are you sure this is okay? What if Lucia gets mad at you for this?”
Steven let out a cold laugh. “So what if she does? I’ll sweet-talk her later.”
“Honestly? This is her own fault. If she doesn’t drop that spoiled princess attitude, she won’t last a day married into the Grants.”
“Our family has served in the military for generations. If I weren’t the only heir to the Grant Enterprises, my mother never would’ve let me marry some pampered rich girl with no skills but spending money.”
Nellie’s voice was dripping with fake concern. “Mr. Grant… if you talk about Lucia like that, aren’t you afraid she’ll break off the engagement?”
A pause. Then Steven’s voice came slightly arrogant, “She won’t. She’s got no inheritance, no power, no better options. The Grants are the best she can do.”
He added, “Besides… she loves me like crazy. I bet if I told her to die for me, she’d actually do it.”
I clutched my chest tightly. Never had I imagine Steven would blurt out such words.
The Harts have been in business for generations—which means we’ve always had a target on our backs.
Six years ago, Mom and I were traveling abroad when we were ambushed. A group of armed men grabbed her, pressed a gun to her temple.