Chapter 6 Shattered Glass, Shattered Pride

Amelia POV

The faint rays of dawn seeped through the thin curtains of my small, drab room, but they brought no warmth, no comfort. The cold emptiness of the Cole estate mirrored the hollowness in my chest. Another day awaited, another cycle of humiliation and loneliness. I clutched the delicate teacup Rosa had brought me the night before, its warmth long gone, just like my hope for this marriage. The thought of facing Rebecca again made my stomach churn, but I had no choice. This was my reality now, as Maxwell's wife in name only. The day began as it always did-with the cold, clipped orders of Rebecca ringing through the halls. The moment I stepped into the grand kitchen to fetch myself a glass of water, I was met with sneers from two maids gossiping in hushed tones near the counter. They didn't bother to lower their voices when they saw me. "Can you believe it?" one of them whispered loudly, her tone dripping with disdain. "She walks around like she belongs here, but we all know she's nothing more than a charity case", they said bursting into laughter. The other maid chuckled. "Mrs. Rebecca made sure to put her in her place yesterday. Did you see how she fumbled with the dishes? Pathetic." Their laughter stung more than it should have. I forced my feet to move, gripping the glass tightly as I filled it with water. I wouldn't let them see how much their words hurt. But when I turned around, my trembling hands betrayed me, and the glass slipped, shattering on the tiled floor. "Of course," one of the maids sneered. "Can't even hold a glass properly. What a waste of space." "I-I'm sorry," I stammered, bending down to pick up the shards. My fingers fumbled, and a sharp piece of glass sliced into my skin. Blood welled up instantly, but I bit back a cry of pain. "Leave it," the other maid snapped, her tone sharp. "You'll just make more of a mess. Go get a broom if you're so determined to be useful." I nodded, tears burning in my eyes as I hurried out of the kitchen, clutching my bleeding hand. The humiliation was suffocating, but I told myself I could endure it. I had to. But for how long? Later that afternoon, Rebecca summoned me to the drawing room. She sat on one of the ornate chairs, her posture regal and intimidating. A large stack of correspondence lay on the table before her, and her sharp green eyes pierced through me as I entered. "You're late," she snapped. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Rebecca," I said quietly, my hands clasped tightly in front of me. She waved a dismissive hand. "Sit. You're going to help me with these letters. Since you're married to my son, you might as well make yourself useful to us." I sat down and reached for one of the letters, but Rebecca's voice stopped me cold. "Not like that!" she barked. "Do you have no sense of decorum? Hold it properly. Honestly, you're such a waste." Her words, each one sharper than the last, cut through my fragile composure. I tried to follow her instructions, but my hands shook so badly that I accidentally knocked over a pen. Rebecca sighed dramatically. "You're hopeless," she muttered. "How Maxwell ended up with someone as useless as you, I'll never understand." I lowered my head, the sting of her words mingling with the ache in my chest. I wanted to defend myself, to tell her that this wasn't the life I had chosen, that I had been pushed into this marriage just as much as Maxwell had. But I knew better than to argue. As the days passed, the staff seemed to take their cues from Rebecca. Their glares grew bolder, their whispers louder. Tasks that should have been theirs were suddenly mine. Cleaning up the dining room, fetching drinks for guests, scrubbing the floors-things no one else in my position would ever be asked to do. One morning, I found myself in the grand foyer, scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain from the marble floor. My knees ached against the cold, hard surface, and my hands were raw from the harsh cleaning solution. "Amelia," one of the senior maids, Clarissa, called out from the top of the staircase. Her voice was tinged with mockery. "When you're done there, the upstairs hallway needs dusting. And don't take all day about it." I bit my lip to keep from snapping back. Instead, I nodded and murmured, "Yes, Clarissa." As I moved to stand, Clarissa smirked. "Oh, and don't forget the baseboards. Mrs. Rebecca likes them spotless." Maxwell's frequent absences only made things worse. He left early in the morning for work and returned late at night, if at all. When he was home, he barely acknowledged me, his cold indifference stinging more than I cared to admit. One evening, as I sat in the small bedroom assigned to me, I heard his voice in the hallway. My heart leaped involuntarily, a foolish hope blooming in my chest. I stepped out of my room, intending to greet him, but the icy look he gave me stopped me in my tracks. "Do you need something?" he asked, his tone flat and unwelcoming. "N-no," I stammered, retreating into my room. The door clicked shut behind me, and I sank onto the bed, tears streaming down my face. One afternoon, as I carried a tray of tea into the drawing room, Rebecca deliberately bumped into me, causing the tray to tip and the tea to spill onto the carpet. "You clumsy fool!" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Look at what you've done! Do you know how much this carpet costs?" "I'm sorry," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I knelt to clean the mess. Rebecca crossed her arms, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Sorry isn't good enough, Amelia. You're an embarrassment to this family. You don't belong here." Her words were the final straw. As I knelt on the floor, scrubbing at the stain with trembling hands, something inside me shifted. The weight of their cruelty, the endless humiliation-it was too much. That night, as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I made a silent promise to myself. I would endure this for now, but I wouldn't let them break me. I would find a way to reclaim my dignity, to prove that I was more than the weak, pitiful woman they saw me as. Because somewhere deep inside, I knew that I deserved better. I just had to find the strength to fight for it but I didn't know if I dared to fight.