Chapter 2Bone-Deep Betrayal,sir, I Won't Forgive

My "servant" life began.

Every day, I woke before dawn, dragging my injured leg to clean the vast garden,

Scrub the cold floors, and wash mountains of dishes.

With every bend, every exertion, excruciating pain shot through my left leg, often leaving me drenched in cold sweat and on the verge of collapsing.

My ankle was swollen and shiny, the skin an ominous purplish-blue.

The other staff members looked at me with scorn and mockery.

“That’s her, the one who killed Mrs. Blackwood. Mr. Blackwood is kind to even let her live.”

“Look at her, a cripple. Serves her right.”

“She used to think she was the lady of the house. Now she’s beneath even us.”

Their whispers, like tiny needles, pricked at me constantly.

But I could only remain silent. Here, I had no right to defend myself, no right to resist.

Matteus seemed to completely forget my existence, until the evening of the third day.

I was struggling to clean the stove in the kitchen when Veronica’s soft, sugary voice floated from behind me.

“Honey, I’m craving a coffee, the kind only you can make.”

My body stiffened, but I didn’t turn around.

“Okay.”

Matteus’s deep voice responded.

He walked into the kitchen, saw me busy, and his tone instantly turned glacial.

“What are you doing here? Get out.”

I lowered my head, put down the rag, and prepared to leave.

“Wait,” Veronica called out. She walked over to me, a sweet, innocent smile playing on her lips.

“Scarlett, long time no see. I heard you were out of prison, and now… a servant here?”

She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on my limping leg for a moment, a flash of triumph in her eyes.

“Let bygones be bygones,” she said magnanimously, though every word was a barb.

“Even though you copied my designs and almost ruined my career, Matteus and I won’t hold it against you. Just focus on your work here.”

My nails dug deeply into my palms, reopening old wounds. The sticky, metallic scent of blood mixed with dish soap filled my nostrils.

Forget about it?

She was the one who stole my sketches, published them first, then had the audacity to accuse *me* of plagiarism!

She was the one who fabricated evidence at the crash site, framing me and sending me to prison!

I looked up at Matteus, a faint, lingering hope in my eyes.

But he only stared back at me, cold and impatient.

“She spoke to you. Did you not hear her?”

In that moment, the last tiny spark of hope flickered, then died, leaving behind only a pile of cold, dead ashes.

“I heard, Miss Hayes.”

I lowered my head again, my voice numb.

Veronica smiled contentedly, linking her arm intimately with Matteus’s.

“Let’s go make coffee. I’m a little tired.”

Matteus immediately embraced her, his voice tender in a way I had never heard before.

“Of course, you go to the lounge and rest. I’ll be right there.”

They walked away together, leaving me alone in the cold kitchen, feeling like a fool.

That night, my leg pain was so severe that my movements were slow, and I didn’t finish clearing the trash on time.

When Matteus found out, he flew into a rage.

“You can’t even do this one small task? Scarlett, did you spend three years in prison just learning how to be lazy?”

He ordered the piled-up kitchen waste to be dumped at the entrance of my staff room, then said coldly:

“If it’s not cleaned up tonight, you won’t sleep!”

That night, dragging my agonizing leg, I toiled in front of the putrid garbage until dawn.

The stench of decay in the air made me retch, as if I were back in the endless, unbearable nights of prison.

Tears, cold sweat, and pus-laced blood streamed down my face, but I dared not even cry aloud.

Matteus, what is your heart made of?