Chapter 8 - The Maid Who Refused to Bow
Julian's hostility became impossible to ignore.
He began questioning my work in front of other staff members, criticizing the way I arranged the silverware, the timing of the meals, and the condition of rooms that had been inspected and approved.
I had endured worse from Victor.
But I was no longer willing to disappear simply because someone expected me to.
One morning, Julian entered the breakfast room while I was setting the table.
"This isn't how my mother liked the place arranged."
"I wasn't informed that your mother had specific instructions."
"Then perhaps you should learn to ask."
I placed the final spoon beside his plate.
"Perhaps you should learn to speak to employees without humiliating them."
The room went silent.
Julian stared at me.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
He raised his hand.
My body stiffened.
For half a second, the room vanished. I was back in Victor's hallway, watching a familiar arm rise toward my face.
I felt the old instinct pull me downward.
But before I could move, Julian's wrist was caught in Roman's hand.
"Don't."
Roman's voice was quiet.
That made it more frightening.
Julian attempted to pull away.
"She insulted me."
"And you raised your hand."
"I wasn't going to hit her."
Roman tightened his grip just enough to make Julian wince.
"Then you won't mind keeping your hands to yourself."
He released him.
Julian stumbled backward, his face red with anger.
"You would take the word of a servant over your own family?"
Roman looked at him.
"I would take the truth over anyone."
Julian left the room, knocking a chair sideways as he passed.
The other servants remained frozen.
Roman turned to me.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
I nodded.
He looked at the overturned chair.
"Dominic will review the security footage."
"Please don't punish the other staff because of me."
His expression softened.
"I won't."
That afternoon, he found me in the greenhouse, trimming dead leaves from a row of orchids.
"You didn't have to defend me," I said.
"Yes, I did."
"Why?"
"Because no one in this house should be afraid of being struck for speaking."
I lowered my shears.
"You speak as if you've never made anyone afraid."
Roman looked toward the glass roof.
"I've made people afraid for most of my life."
"Then why does it bother you when someone does it to me?"
He remained silent for a long moment.
"Because fear was the first language I learned from my father," he finally said. "I spent years convincing myself it was the only language power understood."
He turned toward me.
"Watching you on that floor made me realize how much of him I've carried without questioning it."
I didn't know what to say.
He stepped closer, leaving enough distance that I could move away if I wished.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me for things I haven't told you," he continued. "I'm asking you to let me prove I can do better."
I studied his face.
For the first time, I saw exhaustion beneath his authority.
"You can't save everyone, Roman."
"I know."
"Then don't make me another problem you need to solve."
He nodded.
"Fair enough."
As he left the greenhouse, I noticed a small envelope resting on the potting table.
It contained a photograph of Victor standing outside the estate.
On the back, someone had written a date.
Tomorrow.
And beneath it, a message.
May you like
Ask Roman what happened to the woman who worked here before you.
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