chapter 21

Jane sat on the edge of her bed, hands trembling as they gripped the hem of her skirt. Her cheeks still throbbed from Kara's blows, and her arm bore the sting of the hot water, but none of that compared to the ache swelling in her chest—the kind of ache that made it hard to breathe.

Her sobs were muffled, swallowed by the thick walls of her small room. She didn't want anyone to hear. Not the other house staff, not Alden, and certainly not Kara. She curled her knees to her chest and buried her face in them, letting the tears soak the fabric.

Images of her children flashed through her mind—faint, blurry, lost in time. Had they grown up safe? Were they loved? Did they even know she existed? A mother's guilt was a wound that never closed.

She had spent years searching, following dead leads and enduring jobs that paid too little for the toll they took. And now, in a strange twist of fate, she was in a mansion, paid more than she'd ever hoped for, yet treated worse than a stray dog.

But she needed this job.

Her fingers clenched into fists. She had goals—she still hadn't given up on finding her children, and this job, however cruel the environment, would give her a chance. A chance to afford better private investigators. A chance to pay for transportation, for records, for anything that might bring her closer to the truth.

"No," she whispered through the quiet tears. "I won't break. Not yet."

She stood slowly, wiping her tears with trembling fingers. Her eyes were red and swollen, but there was a fire behind them now. She'd endure. She'd survive.

The next morning, Jane's face was still swollen and bruised, the marks of Kara's cruelty evident despite her best efforts to conceal them. She moved quietly through the house, careful to keep her head down, her eyes avoiding Alden's concerned gaze.

When Alden caught sight of her in the hallway, his brow furrowed with worry. "Jane, what happened to you?" he asked gently, stepping closer.

Jane forced a small, tired smile, hiding the pain behind practiced calm. "I'm fine, Mr. Alden. Just slipped yesterday. Nothing to worry about."

Alden didn't press further, sensing her reluctance. He wanted to help but knew that pushing might only make things worse. He nodded slowly. "If you need anything, let me know. This isn't how I want anyone in my home to be treated."

Jane's heart twisted with gratitude and sorrow. She wanted to tell him everything — the humiliation, the abuse — but she also knew the storm Kara could unleash if the truth came out. For now, silence was her shield.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it," Jane whispered, and with that, she hurried away before her voice could betray her.

Behind her, Alden watched with growing unease, the seed of suspicion planted deep in his mind. Something was wrong, and he was determined to uncover it — no matter what it took.

Later that day, Alden sat rigid behind his mahogany desk, the glow of his laptop casting shadows across his stern face. The footage from the CCTV had been undeniable — Kara's outburst, the relentless slaps, the humiliation Jane endured right under their roof. His heart ached, torn between disappointment and concern.

When Kara arrived at his office, she was unsuspecting, her usual defiant swagger masking the unease she couldn't quite name. But Alden's cold gaze stopped her in her tracks.

"Kara, sit down," he said firmly.

She obeyed, wary but unafraid.

"I've seen everything," Alden began, voice low but hard. "The way you've been treating Jane — it's unacceptable. This behavior can't continue."

Kara's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "She deserves it," she spat. "She's nothing but a burden."

Alden's face darkened. "That's exactly why I'm sending you abroad. You need space — a new environment, away from this house, away from all of this," he gestured broadly, "so you can reflect. Maybe then, you'll outgrow this anger, this hatred that's consuming you."

A flash of fury crossed Kara's face, but it quickly crumbled into something far darker — despair. "You're sending me away? Just like that?" Her voice cracked. "So now even you don't want me here? No one wants me. No one loves me."

Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and fled the room. The sound of her door slamming echoed down the hallway, a harsh punctuation to the moment.

Once alone in her room, Kara collapsed onto her bed, locking the door behind her. The walls seemed to close in as sobs wracked her body, uncontrolled and endless. She felt utterly abandoned, a child left to drown in a sea of loneliness and rage.

Kara stayed locked in her room, the heavy silence stretching through the entire day and night. She neither ate nor spoke, withdrawing completely from the world around her. The other workers, wary of her unpredictable temper, kept their distance—no one dared to knock on her door or ask if she was okay.

But Jane couldn't bear it any longer. Pity gnawed at her heart. She remembered the broken girl beneath all that anger, and the loneliness she must be drowning in. Quietly, she approached Kara's door and knocked gently.

"Kara, please... can we talk?" Jane's voice was soft, tentative.

For a moment, no reply came. Then the door creaked open just enough to reveal Kara's angry eyes.

"Go away," Kara snapped, pushing the door wider and glaring fiercely.

Jane didn't retreat. She stepped inside slowly, hands raised in peace. "I'm not here to fight," she whispered. "I just... I want to help."

Kara's breath hitched, and without thinking, she swung her hand sharply toward Jane's face.

But Jane didn't flinch or dodge. She stood still, staring into Kara's stormy eyes.

Kara froze, her hand hanging mid-air, confusion flickering across her face.

"Were you going to wait for me to slap you?" Kara asked, voice trembling.

Jane looked back calmly. "If that would make you feel better, then I don't mind."

In that moment, something inside Kara cracked. For the first time in years, the hard, angry walls she'd built around herself softened just a little. She felt—touched. Not pity, not fear—something deeper and more complicated stirring within her.

But before she could understand it, the moment passed, leaving a fragile silence between them.