Death of her uncle and Aunty

REGINALD MANSION

Reginald sat in his study, going through some documents when Vivian entered the study, her head bowed low. Her once vibrant eyes now dimmed by years of torment and regret. She carried a tray with tea, her hands trembling slightly. To the outside world, Vivian was his wife—a trophy to parade at social gatherings. Inside the house, she was little more than a maid, a servant subject to his whims and cruelty.

As she approached, her hands faltered, and the tea spilled over onto the pristine desk. Hot liquid splattered across important documents, ruining them instantly. Reginald's eyes darkened, his temper igniting like dry tinder to a flame.