“What? Absolutely not!”

Amelia’s voice was so sharp and loud that it seemed to pierce the windowpanes themselves.

Vincent winced at the shrill sound drilling into his ears and covered them with his hands.

“What do you mean, absolutely not? What kind of nonsense is that? I’ve already said she’ll be sent over this evening.”

“And why are you deciding that on your own? You don’t even live at the estate!”

“I asked Houston if they were short-staffed. Apparently, she had been working alone in the laundry room the entire time. Now that preparations for the banquet are almost finished, the original laundry maids will return to their duties. Since she technically belongs to Grandmother’s household, she doesn’t even have a fixed position here.”

“Even so, she’s my maid! How can you send her away without asking me first? And to His Grace, of all people! What if she makes a mistake and offends him?”

“Well, if that happens, that’s Logan’s problem. He’s the one who requested her as his personal attendant.”

“His Grace did?”

At Vincent’s words, Amelia’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“If you really dislike the idea, tell him yourself. Explain that she’s unreliable, and suggest assigning another maid if he would prefer that. We promised him a personal attendant before he arrived at the estate, but he didn’t like any of the maids, so no one has been attending to his needs.”

“How did he even come to know her?”

“Just… by chance.”

Vincent’s careless answer made Amelia’s lips twist sharply.

‘By chance?’

She had deliberately assigned the maid to the laundry room to prevent her from wandering the estate, yet somehow the maid had crossed paths with the duke.

It could not have been a coincidence. Unless she had intentionally passed by wherever he happened to be.

Anxiety crept beneath Amelia’s skin. Without realizing it, she began to bite her carefully manicured nails.

She was more uneasy than angry with the maid for ignoring her warning and approaching the duke.

Why had His Grace requested that particular girl as his personal attendant?

Was it merely because she was unfamiliar, because she was a new face?

“Did he say anything else?”

“Not really. He just asked if we were close, so I said we were. That’s all. So when is she going?”

Vincent, who had been going over documents with Logan while he refused to rest properly, rubbed his tired eyes.

He had arrived late, thinking that something urgent had happened, only to find his sister demanding answers about Logan’s personal assistant.

The whole situation irritated him.

“Whatever it is, it’ll sort itself out somehow.”

He stretched his stiff shoulders, rolling them back, and spoke in a blunt, weary tone.

***

After finishing the laundry, she went back to her room and massaged her sore shoulders.

Every part of her body ached. But the scar on her right shoulder throbbed the most, as if it were being scorched all over again.

Hunching over, she retreated to her corner of the maids’ quarters. In winter, she might have found ice to cool the heat, but now she could only press her cold hands against her burning skin.

What had once been pain that came only at night now struck without warning, at any hour.

So much time had passed that pressing hard against the scar no longer caused sharp pain.

And yet the uneven, ridged flesh pulsed stubbornly beneath her reddened fingers.

She let out a long, weary sigh.

She had saved what little she could and visited doctors more than once.

The answer had always been the same: It was psychological.

Proper treatment was unavailable.

She didn’t know how she had sustained the injury.

The memory of it was lost entirely, yet it still tormented her.

Suddenly, the door to the maids’ quarters burst open without so much as a knock.

The sound of heels in the corridor could only belong to Miss Amelia, for whom elegance was of the utmost importance.

“Where is she?”

Amelia swept into the room without warning, her sharp eyes scanning every corner.

The maids, who had been resting after finishing their work, jumped to their feet at this unexpected intrusion.

The woman curled up on her bed was no exception.

The moment Amelia spotted her, she crossed the room without hesitation.

Smack!

The sharp crack of flesh against flesh rang through the air, and the woman’s head snapped violently to the side.

“You! Didn’t I tell you to stay out of sight? To live as though you were dead? Did you think I was joking? Is that why you dared to show yourself to His Grace?”

Amelia’s voice rose, shrill with fury.

“Pardon? I don’t quite understand—”

“What? You don’t understand? Are you pretending not to know in front of me right now?”

Amelia’s beautiful features twisted.

She couldn’t believe she had dared to remain silent about her meeting with the duke and now stand before her, pretending to be ignorant.

That expression!

That tone!

Those submissive eyes lifted towards her.

They had never pleased Amelia before.

But today, they irritated her more than ever.

“How many times did I warn you not to catch His Grace’s attention? How many!”

Amelia raised her hand again and struck her once more.

The blow rang in her ears, hot and numbing. The woman stood dazed—

And only then did she understand what her lady meant.

‘She knows.’

Miss Amelia was talking about what had happened earlier that day, particularly her encounter with the Duke.

She would have found it impossible to avoid him, no matter what excuse she had tried to use. There was no way she would believe that Young Master Vincent had been the one to first speak to her and draw her towards them.

“I—!”

Despite repeatedly striking the maid’s cheek, Amelia’s anger showed no sign of abating. She raised her arm high once more.

Terrified, the maid drew in her lips and shut her eyes tight.

She did not raise a hand to defend herself.

She simply waited for her mistress’s punishment.

It was as though she were already accustomed to it.

She could feel every gaze in the room bearing down on her.

It was not unusual for a master to discipline a servant in any household. But it was rare for such a punishment to be carried out so openly and publicly, before everyone.

“Miss, it’s quite late. Perhaps you should calm yourself for now. You have luncheon with His Grace tomorrow. You ought to retire early.”

At the head maid’s gentle attempt to intervene, Amelia’s raised hand trembled in midair before lowering.

“So I’m the wicked one again—venting my temper on a maid for no reason. Isn’t that right?”

“How could that be? The fault lies with the maid who disobeyed you despite being warned time and again.”

“Of course.”

Amelia glanced around the room.

Even the head maid’s carefully chosen words—saying only what she wished to hear—failed to improve her mood.

‘They pretend to stand on my side in front of me, but they’ll surely talk behind my back.’

Her eyes snapped back to the maid, who avoided her gaze.

It had always been that way.

Her brother. Her grandmother.

They trusted and cherished that insignificant maid more than they did her.

‘And I am always the villain.’

Whenever the situation was revisited, Amelia was always portrayed as cruel.

The maid, hiding behind her memories of a lost childhood, always played the part of the pitiful victim. She always looked so fragile. She effortlessly drew sympathy.

This only served to irritate Amelia further.

She wanted nothing more than to erase the girl from her life entirely. Yet she could not simply throw her out. Despite her resentment, the maid was a troublesome burden Amelia did not dare to discard.

“So irritating!”

Unable to contain herself, Amelia snatched whatever object lay within reach and hurled it across the room.

When the storm finally passed, the air in the chamber settled into a heavy silence.

“It’s late. Finish what you must and prepare for bed.”

The head maid was the first to regain her composure. She spoke as though Amelia had never been there at all.

The other maids, accustomed to their lady’s occasional fiery outbursts beneath her usual noble refinement, let it pass without comment.

Each of them was quietly relieved that they had not been the target this time.