In her room, Mabel sat on the bed, her mood dark and twisted. Four years, Edward had turned her in every way possible to fulfill his desires. And now, he thought he could just toss her aside. She wouldn't let that happen. She'd make sure he never forgot her, and no other woman would ever come near him.
As for that useless omega, that servant, Lucille, she'd make sure she knew her place.
Mabel's gaze drifted to her suitcase. A month. She had decided to stay for a month, and she would. No one would stop her.
A knock at the door broke her thoughts.
"Come in," she said, her voice cold. Her fingers began to tap the bed, nerves starting to rise. It had to be Lucille.
The door creaked open, and just as she expected, Lucille walked in.
"I was told to meet you. Is there a problem?" Lucille asked, her tone icy.
Mabel frowned. Didn't Edward tell her? Well, if he hadn't, then she would handle it herself.
"Take this into the closet," Mabel ordered, pointing at the suitcase.
Lucille didn't budge. She didn't flinch or speak.
"Are you deaf? Take the suitcase into the closet!" Mabel snapped, her irritation growing.
Lucille remained still, her silence intensified Mabel's anger.
She stood up, in full fury, and marched toward Lucille.
"For the last time, take this bag into the closet!" Mabel yelled.
Lucille simply stared at her, an indifferent expression on her face, which only made Mabel angrier.
Smack! The sharp sound of a slap rang out as Mabel's hand connected with Lucille's face, sending her head snapping to the side. A searing pain shot through Lucille's cheek, and it took everything in her to hold back the tears threatening to spill.
"You slapped me?" Lucille's voice trembled, finally breaking the silence.
"And I'll slap you again!" Mabel sneered, delivering another sharp slap, her cruel grin never fading.
Lucille, however, simply smiled. "You have no right to order me," she replied calmly, her voice steady as she kept the growing anger inside from showing.
Mabel's grin stayed in place as she stepped closer to Lucille. "Prepare my bath, Lucille. And be quick about it. I don't have all day."
Lucille's chest tightened, but she controlled her breath, hiding the anger bubbling within her. This wasn't the first time Mabel had tried to bully her with that air of superiority, but it would be the last.
After being slapped twice, Lucille swore that in Mabel's next life, she wouldn't dare slap anyone again.
Lucille nodded silently and moved toward the bathroom. It wasn't hard to find; she had cleaned that room more times than she cared to remember.
The bathroom was vast, elegant, and luxurious, too sophisticated for what Lucille had ever imagined. She stood there, her eyes darkening as she scanned the space. Her gaze locked on the tub, then shifted to the water heater above it. She lingered there for a moment, her thoughts racing, before her eyes moved again to the tap by the tub.
Her focus shifted to the vanity mirror. She stepped closer, taking in her reflection. Her hands balled into fists as the finger marks from Mabel's slap stood out brightly on her skin. Her face was reddened, the slap still fresh. Her jaw tightened as she growled lowly, "Mabel."
Stepping away from the mirror, she returned her gaze to the tub, her mind set. She turned the taps on, letting the water fill the tub. But instead of adjusting the temperature to something soothing, she twisted the hot water all the way up, her hands steady, her expression unreadable.
Once the water was set, she turned off the taps and left the bathroom.
"Should I bathe you too?" Lucille asked mockingly as she walked back into the room, catching Mabel's deep glare.
"Fool!" Mabel spat, anger burning in her eyes.
Lucille smiled, unbothered. "It's not that bad. I've seen your body clearly before," she teased.
Mabel's face darkened, her jaw clenched. "How dare you?"
"Haven't I seen it?" Lucille shrugged casually. "The way you were all over him," she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Mabel's eyes flared with rage. "I don't blame you. You're just jealous because you lost him!" she shot back, but her words didn't faze Lucille in the slightest.
"I didn't lose him. I rejected him!" Lucille sneered, her voice dripping with fire.
"Yet he wants my body desperately, but I'm not going to give him that," she let out a taunting laugh.
In truth, Edward had never shown interest in her again, but she wanted to see Mabel suffer, and that was enough to push her words further.
"You!" Mabel's face twisted with fury, her rage threatening to suffocate her.
"You can have him, I don't mind," Lucille continued, her voice filled with sweet mockery.
"He's useless to me!" She wasn't going to let Mabel have the last word.
"Hold him tight, Mabel. Who knows, maybe his father will give your father a political appointment!" Lucille spat, aiming to cause more provocation, to push Mabel over her limit.
Mabel was speechless. The words were stuck in her throat, and her mind scrambled for the right words suitable for retaliation. All she could do was glare at Lucille, but it was like throwing daggers at a stone. It was useless.
Lucille stood her ground, unbothered. "I made your water warm. If you waste time, it might get cold," she said seriously.
"Your bath is ready, Miss Mabel Fletcher," she added sweetly, and innocently.
Mabel shot her one last scornful look before snorting in disgust. "You're such a slave," she muttered under her breath.
With that, she stalked toward the bathroom, pulling off her clothes in one swift motion.
Bare, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her body was well-rounded, her curves perfectly aligned, and she whispered with a smile. "You're mine, Edward,"
Without another thought, Mabel stepped into the tub. But as her foot touched the water, a shrill scream tore from her throat.
The water was scalding, far too hot for anyone to bear. Her body jerked back in panic, trying to withdraw her foot, but the damage was already done.
Still in the room, Lucille stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the bathroom door. A small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips. Lesson learned. Pain for pain.
Mabel's foot throbbed with excruciating pain, the burn so intense it seemed to consume her. She scrambled to the edge of the tub, desperately trying to drain the scalding water while fanning her foot to ease the heat.
But, as if fate was against her, her hand slipped off the tub, and in a desperate attempt to regain balance, she lost control and tumbled backward into the tub, the scalding water still filling it.
A sharp scream tore from her throat as her body recoiled instinctively. She shot out of the tub, her feet burning with every step.
Her scalded foot slammed onto the cold floor, and the pain surged through her body, making her gasp in agony.
She raised her foot, clutching at the floor in a vain attempt to steady herself, but the pain was overwhelming.
Her back, too, felt as though it was on fire, the burn spreading down her spine.
She tried to wriggle free from the searing discomfort, but in her panic, her feet gave out from under her. She crashed hard onto the bathroom floor.