Chapter 2

"Mother, how do you walk so silently? Diana hurt her ankle and you appeared out of nowhere without worrying about startling her..."

He embraced me firmly, subtly indicating I should play along.

Seizing the moment, I wriggled free and dropped down. Surprisingly, I genuinely injured my ankle.

Vincent noticed the beads of perspiration on my brow and discreetly gave me an approving gesture.

Mrs. Cross observed her son fussing over me with a pensive expression, seemingly holding back her words.

Eventually, responding to my imploring look, she retreated upstairs.

Vincent then scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom he had lavishly furnished for me.

The room's most expensive feature was its sound insulation.

How ironic. I once believed he did this so I could rest undisturbed by noise.

In truth, it was to allow him to enter and satisfy his urges without Mrs. Cross, residing on the third floor, discovering anything. A wave of sadness washed over me.

But as he secured the door and pressed against me again, revulsion quickly overtook my melancholy.

His leg brushed my ankle, causing me to cry out in pain.

Vincent appeared annoyed. "That's enough pretending. I was about to commend your excellent performance when you twisted your ankle... Now put on the maid outfit I had specially made for you..."

Vincent, absorbed in his desires, feigned concern in front of his mother for a while, failing to notice my swollen and bruised ankle.

Gazing into his alluring eyes, which seemed to show affection even for a dog, I fully realized he had never truly cared for me.

His intense possessiveness meant he viewed me merely as a plaything for his amusement.

Feeling his body on the verge of losing control, I resisted for the first time. "I'm exhausted, can we do this another time?"

My repeated rebuffs of his advances caused Vincent to emanate a chilling aura.

He narrowed his eyes, seemingly about to question me, when the phone rang urgently.

Hearing sobs on the other end, Vincent hastily opened the door and rushed downstairs.

When he returned with a soaked Evelyn, I was already in bed.

However, he used a spare key to enter and commanded me coldly, "Go prepare some ginger tea to warm Evelyn up."

I sat up, watching them motionlessly.

Evelyn immediately pouted, her face full of distress as she said, "Vincent, even though she's a maid, isn't it too much to ask her to make me tea in the middle of the night? I'll be fine after some rest."

She then sneezed.

Vincent drew her close and frowned at me. "Can't you see Evelyn got caught in the rain? Remember, following my orders is your duty."

He was correct; I should obey him. But my employment contract had expired two years ago.

Back then, Evelyn had left abruptly to go abroad, leaving Vincent heartbroken. He drowned his sorrows in alcohol daily and developed severe mood swings.

One night, while drinking at a bar, he saw me being harassed by some men during my part-time job.

I resisted as they tried to force me into a private room. Vincent intervened with a wine bottle, resulting in a violent altercation.

To show my gratitude for his rescue, I insisted on caring for him at the hospital.

When Mrs. Cross noticed that he accepted my presence and his mood swings had subsided for days, she consulted a doctor. Subsequently, she presented me with an employment contract.

"I'll pay you 700 thousand dollars for three years to stay by Vincent's side as his personal caretaker."

Coincidentally, my adoptive father had recently passed away from illness, leaving behind substantial debts.