Chapter 2
Scarlett Vane stood beside Julian, her fair skin glowing beneath the golden light of the chandeliers. The twenty-nine-year-old socialite was draped in a luxurious champagne satin gown that clung perfectly to her figure, shimmering with every step she took. Heavy ruby earrings flashed with every tilt of her head, matching the crimson ornaments on the towering Christmas tree. She maintained a polished, unwavering public smile, playing the role of the devoted, untouchable future wife to absolute perfection.
"A beautiful sentiment, Scarlett," agreed a wealthy donor from across the table, raising his crystal glass toward her. "To the future of the Rook family. May your union bring prosperity to us all."
"Thank you, Richard," Scarlett replied, her American accent dripping with affluent charm. "Julian and I are entirely committed to building a legacy that honors both of our families."
Beyond the heavy silk drapes separating the dining room from the service corridors, Molly Ellis leaned weakly against a polished marble column. The twenty-five-year-old housemaid was breathtakingly beautiful, possessing delicate features, clear, fair skin, and highly expressive eyes. Tonight, however, she possessed an exhausted, deeply vulnerable manner that sharply contradicted the festive elegance of the estate.
She wore a fitted black maid dress with a cinched waist, a white apron, white collar and cuffs, and a white ruffled maid headband. But her pristine uniform was a ruin. Her black dress was deeply creased, her white apron was terribly rumpled, and her lace headband sat noticeably crooked in her disheveled hair. Worse than her uniform was the hollow, sunken look in her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy and darkened from prolonged crying, and her hands trembled uncontrollably against her sides.
"Molly, you cannot stay hiding out here," the head butler whispered harshly, adjusting his own collar as he passed her. "The reception is in full swing. Miss Vane requires the staff to clear the appetizer plates from the low marble ledge immediately."
"I am trying, sir," Molly replied, her voice trembling so violently she could barely form the words. The sheer physical weakness from days of starvation made the room spin. "I just need a moment."
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"You have had enough moments," the butler interrupted coldly. "Do your job before you ruin the evening."
Molly squeezed her eyes shut. During Julian’s absence, Scarlett had systematically isolated and tortured her. Jealous of the little boy's affection for the maid, Scarlett had withheld Molly’s wages, locked her out of the kitchens, and explicitly forbade her from eating any staff meals. Driven by a sadistic need to break the young woman, Scarlett had allowed Molly to eat only the leftover scraps from the family dog, Biscuit. The humiliation was absolute, a secret torment that Molly was too terrified to speak of. Taking a ragged breath, she stepped out into the golden light.
