Chapter 4

Keith flinched back at Damien' s threat, his face pale. He was just a guard; he couldn' t afford to lose his job.

Damien didn't even notice. He dragged Aliana from the living room, his fingers digging into her arm, and shoved her into her small, bare room. He slammed the door shut behind them.

"What the hell was that?" he roared, his face a mask of jealous rage. "Flirting with the help right in front of me? Right after you threw your little tantrum? Do you have any shame at all?"

He pushed her against the wall, his body trapping hers. His breath was hot on her face.

Aliana just stared at him, her eyes empty. The man in front of her was a stranger. The Damien she loved, or thought she loved, had never existed.

"Disgusted?" she asked, her voice a dead monotone.

He tried to kiss her, a bruising, angry kiss meant to punish and possess. She turned her head, and his lips met the cold wall.

She wiped the spot on her cheek where his spit had landed, her expression one of utter revulsion.

"Don't touch me," she said. "You're dirty."

The room went still. Damien stared at her, his chest heaving. The word 'dirty' from her, the girl who had cleaned his body for five years, was like a physical blow.

"What did you say?" he whispered, his voice shaking with disbelief.

"I said my words don't matter anymore, so it doesn't matter what I say," she replied, her voice flat.

This time, when he reached for her, she easily sidestepped him. He stumbled, catching himself on the wall. For a moment, he was the weak one, and she was the one with all the power.

She saw the jacket Keith had been forced to take off lying on a chair. She picked it up and put it on, covering her dress, covering her scar.

Damien watched her, a strange confusion flickering in his eyes. He saw her slender back, the way she moved with a new, unfamiliar resolve.

"Aliana," he said, his voice softer now, uncertain.

She didn't turn around. She walked to the door and opened it, never looking back.

Just as she stepped into the hallway, a frantic shout echoed from the main house. "Mr. Rodriguez has collapsed! Someone call an ambulance!"

Aliana's blood ran cold. "Dad!"

She forgot everything-Damien, the humiliation, the pain. She ran, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor, her heart pounding in her chest.

She found her father on the floor of his small room, his face blue, his hand clutching his chest.

"I'll drive him!" she screamed, grabbing the keys to one of the family's cars. "I'll get him to the hospital!"

She ran towards the garage, but Damien blocked her path.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"My father is dying! I have to get him to the hospital!" she cried, trying to push past him.

He grabbed the keys from her hand. "Hadley is having a panic attack because of you and that disgusting scar. She's terrified. You need to go to her, calm her down."

Aliana stared at him, her mind unable to process his words. "What? My father is having a heart attack! Hadley is just scared! He could die!"

Damien's eyes fell to the man's jacket she was wearing. His face hardened, all traces of concern vanishing, replaced by cold jealousy.

"That's not my problem," he said, his voice like ice. "He's just a servant. Hadley is my priority. The cars stay here. If you want to get him to a hospital, call a taxi."

He turned his back on her, scooped a trembling, fake-sobbing Hadley into his arms, and carried her towards his own room.

Aliana stood frozen for a second before running to Cecil, who was watching the scene with a smug smile.

"Mrs. Crawford, please! The keys! My father needs a doctor!"

"Why should I?" Cecil sneered, dangling a set of keys in front of Aliana's face. "Your father is old. It's his time. Hadley is young and delicate. She needs my son."

Desperate, Aliana fell to her knees. "Please," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "I'm begging you. Please save my father's life."

Cecil laughed, a cruel, high-pitched sound. "Begging? A servant's daughter begging me? How fitting."

Aliana lunged for the keys, but Cecil was too quick. She snatched them away. Aliana fell forward, her hands scraping against the rough stone of the veranda.

With a final, malicious grin, Cecil turned and threw the keys. They sailed through the air in a silver arc and landed with a soft splash in the middle of the decorative fountain in the courtyard.

Without a second's hesitation, Aliana scrambled to her feet and jumped into the cold, murky water. The fountain was filled with slime and algae, the water rank and filthy. She plunged her hands in, frantically searching for the keys in the black water.

Her fingers closed around them. She pulled herself out of the fountain, soaked and shivering, her dress covered in green slime. She ran to the nearest car, a sedan used for errands.

As she fumbled with the key in the lock, she heard a series of loud, sharp hisses.

She turned to see Cecil standing behind the car, a knife in her hand. She had just slashed all four tires.

"Going somewhere?" Cecil asked, her voice dripping with venom.

Aliana stared at the flattened tires, her hope dying.

"No..." she whispered, her body trembling. "No, please..."

A maid ran out of the house, her face pale with panic. "Miss Aliana! Your father... he's stopped breathing!"

Aliana ran back to her father's side, her mind blank with terror. She started CPR, pushing on his chest, breathing into his mouth, the movements automatic from the first-aid courses she'd taken.

"You're wasting your time," Cecil sneered from the doorway. "He's already dead."

Aliana didn't listen. She kept pumping, kept breathing, tears and sweat and filthy fountain water dripping from her face onto her father's still chest.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I should have taken you away sooner. I'm sorry."

Finally, she heard the distant wail of a siren. The ambulance was here. Too late. It was all too late.