Paige

The twins' staying up all day turned out to be a blessing at night. They had followed Laura willingly when she told them to go to bed and were out like candlelight before she was out of the room.

It was soon morning and time for the twins to leave. Her heart ached at their departure, just as she anticipated. The twins, though, took it very lightly. It seemed they were very eager to leave. It kinda hurt.

Laura told her they were only eager to show off their new toys back home. The twins wouldn't do anything after breakfast but look out the window.

Everyone but Desmond was gathered in the parlor waiting for Claire. A car entered the front yard.

"Look! It's Dad!" Kira exclaimed.

Timothy? Sam felt an unexpected sense of dread. She had told Desmond to ignore him the last time they met.

Timothy stormed through the door.

"Daddy!" The children called out delightfully.

Their excitement died down when they spotted his foul mood.

"Why did you bring them here?" He roared at the nanny.

The twins ran to Sam's side in fear. The nanny was still stuttering and, in a panic, she looked at Sam piteously. Timothy followed her gaze and saw Sam standing, flanked by his children.

Sam felt like a target was placed on her head. Timothy was glaring daggers at her. She scrambled for what to say.

"Good morning, Mr. Landon."

She saw his jaw clench similarly to how Desmond's does when he is angry.

"How did your weekend in the yacht go?" Sam blurted out in her confusion.

"Who the hell are you talking to? You peasant." He sneered in his heavily accented voice.

"Because Desmond married you doesn't mean you are one of us and have the right to talk back to me. You are no different from this wretch." He said, throwing a distasteful look at the nanny.

"I agree," Sam said simply.

Timothy cocked a questionable brow at her.

"I'm just curious why you'd entrust your children to us. You must like peasants."

His face reddened with fury. Sam regretted her words the moment they left her lips. Timothy was suddenly striding towards her. Sam cowered back. The twins rushed to him and hugged each of his legs to restrain him.

Their little arms would not be able to stop his movement, but their grip was so hard that he would have to kick them about as he moved.

"Don't be mad at Sam, Daddy," Kira pleaded, looking up at her father tearfully. "She is nice to us. She piggybacks me and Paco."

"She bought us toys too." Paco pleaded too.

"You have enough toys already, Paco," he scolded.

"Why are you still taking things from strangers?" He sneered at Sam.

"You are here now. You can take them back home," Sam said with feigned calmness as she fought internally to tame her tongue.

She picked up the shopping bags on the couch. The twins had insisted on leaving the toys in them.

"I'll see you off to the door," she offered.

The twins had realized their father's legs. Timothy walked gracefully to Sam and gently took the bags from her.

"Thanks for the gift, Sam," he said sarcastically, "but no, thanks."

He turned the bags upside down, and all the toys clattered on the floor. He dropped the empty bags and then stomped on a police toy car, wrecking it completely. He went ahead to stomp other toys ferociously.

Sam felt her heart pound with fury. Did he know the trouble they went through to purchase those?

Sam caught a movement at the door and looked to see Claire enter, looking surprised and worried.

After Timothy was satisfied with the damage he had done, he glared down at Sam scornfully.

"I can afford to buy my children gifts. We don't take stuff from strangers."

Sam snickered.

"Turn around Timothy," she sneered.

Timothy's jaw twitched at being addressed by his first name.

"Look at your children." She insisted. He looked over his shoulder.

Both twins were holding Claire's hand. He hadn't seen her enter. Claire looked at him with a worried expression. Claire always got worried anytime he got angry - worried he was going to hurt people. She was worried for Sam.

The twins looked horrified at the damage their father had done to their toys. Kira began to whimper and dashed out. Paco held on to Claire's dress and sobbed too.

"The only stranger they see around here..." He turned at Sam's voice. "...is you!" Sam continued.

Timothy was seeing red at this point. He raised a hand to strike her. Sam's eyes shut as she anticipated the contact.

"Don't!" Desmond's voice roared into the room.

Timothy's hand froze in the air. Desmond just entered the parlour to find his uncle and wife having a face-off.

He walked calmly and stood beside her. Sam instinctively moved behind him for safety.

"Where are you going to lay your dirty hands on my beloved wife?" He asked calmly. Timothy's hand dropped awkwardly.

"I wouldn't want to dirty my hands with her hideous face."

He spat and turned to leave, but Desmond stopped him, holding his shoulder and spinning him back around roughly. Every mouth in the room, including Timothy's, gaped.

"We haven't finished yet, Uncle," he said quietly.

Seeing the concealed anger on Desmond's face, he had no choice but to stay put and listen.

"I don't want you calling my wife names and raising your dirty hands on her. If this repeats itself, I'll deal with you. And that's a promise."

He took Sam's hand and pulled her out of there. When they got inside their room, Sam was panting. Her ankles were hurting from being forced to keep up with Desmond's long strides.

"Are you alright?" He asked, scanning her for any injuries.

"I'm fine."

The words were barely audible. Sam's heart swelled with warmth. But Desmond had helped her against his family, though a family he hated, but it felt good to be rescued by someone other than her mother.

He almost looked like he cared, but she suddenly remembered how he himself had been assaulted recently.

"I'm fine," she said quietly and shrugged away from him, then went to look out the window.

He mistook the sudden switch for worry over Timothy's pestering. He followed her to the window.

"He won't do it again. I'm going to complain to Pa so he can caution him."

And who is going to complain to Pa about you? She thought. He was just mad because he felt she was his alone to torture, not that he cared.

"What can I do to make it up to you?"

Sam's head snapped up to look at him. Was he serious? Her gut told her this wasn't an opportunity she wanted to miss. She suddenly remembered Claire.

"Tell me what you did to Claire's boyfriend."

Desmond scoffed.

"You ain't letting it slide, are you? Here. I killed him. You should be feeling awesome right now. I'm going to send in the maids to help you pack. "

He turned and walked out, leaving. Sam was perplexed. How could he speak of killing someone so casually?

Eric came back before lunch. He was disappointed that he had missed Claire and the twins. But it was all good though. He wouldn't have to read stories while everyone else slept.

* * * * *

Desmond and Sam came back to the mansion that evening, but they weren't prepared for what awaited them.

Sam immediately noticed that the servants were plenty. Normally, even early in the morning when most of the chores were done, there would never be so many. There was literally a servant at every corner just standing and doing mostly nothing.

Since Sam didn't like prying into people's business unnecessarily, she quietly headed to her room. She wasn't ready for what was going to happen next. The moment she opened the door, she saw a woman on her bed.

"You want me to help you chop those hands? You obviously don't need them for knocking." The woman slurred.

What! Who the hell is that bitch? Sam couldn't see her face clearly as the woman was lying on her back and looking up. The curtains were closed, which made the room dark.

"You are interrupting my beauty sleep, servant. "Get out before I lose it," the woman said calmly.

"I should probably chop off your legs for entering my room and resting them on my sheets," Sam growled.

The woman immediately flicked the light on. Paige! Desmond's stepmother is here! She felt her panic increasing. What was Paige doing in her bed? Paige had sat up.

"Oh. It's Desmond's little wife," she cooed. "You are in the wrong room, child."

"Wrong room?! This is my room!"

Sam was beginning to get angry. No one wants their privacy to be invaded like that.

"Is it not strange that you lovebirds are in different rooms?"

"Paige!"

She turned to see Desmond entering.

"This is my wife's room," he said.

"It's funny you gave my room out. You must have thought I was never gonna come back. In your dreams, monkey. You ain't getting rid of me that easily."

He took Sam's hand and gently led her out. He didn't stop at the door but proceeded down the hall.

"Where are you taking me to?" She asked.

"Your room."

He wasn't going to throw Paige out. He would just give her another room. She guessed that was what all the extra rooms were built for.

He stopped at a door, opened it, and stepped in.

The description of the room in Sam's view was dull. Everything was in a dark shade except the bedsheets.

The walls were painted black. The tiles had a smoky thing where the white smoke was so little that it looked mostly dark.

The roof was a dark shade of grey. The slightly lighter colours in the room were the wardrobe, headboard, and desk, which were brown.

"This is where you'll be sleeping from now on."

"A splash of color would help." She couldn't help saying. "The painter must have been color-blind to do this mess."

Desmond gave her a side glance. Was she saying he had a dumb taste?

"No, it's not getting repainted. I like it as it is."

"But I'll be the one staying in it, not you."

"I'm staying too," he smirked. "Your things will be moved immediately. Try to feel at home already."

He left the room. What did he mean by 'feel at home'? As if she was a guest. She looked about the dim room making mental notes on the changes that needed to be made in the room.

She opened the wardrobe. To her surprise, There were clothes inside, and they were not hers. They were Desmond's.

"No, I'm not sharing a room with him." She said in horror.

It was already bad enough when she had to share a room with him at the family house for a few days. Now, to do that every day? Hell no!

She went out to meet him. On her way, she ran into Ann.

"Mistress!" Ann exclaimed and hurried to her.

"How are you, Ann?"

"I'm fine."

"Do you know where Mr. Desmond is?"

"He's..."

"Good! Take me to him immediately," she requested eagerly and Ann led the way.

"Where is Maggie?" Sam asked.

"Last time I saw her, she was trying to bake the mistress some cookies. She says she only trusts Maggie with her food - she being her personal maid and all."

Sam halted in shock.

"Wait, what?! Maggie is my maid!"

Ann shrugged helplessly.

"Hurry now! I must meet Desmond at this very moment!"

Ann led her out the front door and around the house to the swimming pool.

'Isn't there a way to get here from inside?' She wondered aloud.

"Does everyone go around the house like this?" Sam asked.

Ann nodded, but she was lying. She just didn't want to look stupid.

Sam looked around, but there was no sign of life.

"Where is he?"

"Right here, ma'am."

She spun at the voice. Desmond stood in front of her bare chested.

She saw Ann in the background, hurrying off like a coward.

"I need to talk to you," she said as she avoided his body.

"I'm right here," he said calmly.

"It's about..."

"Look at me when you talk," he commanded.

Does he have to make conversation so difficult? She looked up anyway and found him smiling at her. Her words froze in her mouth.

"Forget it. Let's swim first," he said dismissively, holding her hand.

He began to pull her to the edge of the swimming pool.

"What?! No!" She yelled. "I don't know how to swi---" Before she could say the word, she started drowning.