The night was silent, cloaked in darkness and tension. The soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of the wall clock were the only signs of life inside the house.
The front door creaked open. Vicious stepped in, shoulders broad, face unreadable. His boots made dull thuds against the wooden floor as he walked in without a word.
Thalia appeared from the hallway, her eyes lighting up with forced cheer. "You're back."
He didn't respond. His cold gaze brushed past her like she was furniture. Without a glance, he climbed the stairs and disappeared into his room, the door shutting behind him with a quiet but firm thud.
Thalia blinked, biting her lower lip. She called out hesitantly, "Sir, what about my stuff? You said—"
"I forgot," he said flatly from behind the door.
Minutes later, the sound of footsteps echoed again. Vicious was back downstairs, now seated at the dining table. He didn't look at her as he spoke, "Bring my food."
Thalia jumped slightly, startled by the command. "Yes, sir," she replied quickly, hurrying to the kitchen.
She brought out the dishes, her hands moving swiftly as she set the table with practiced precision. A bowl of steaming soup, grilled meat, and rice with sauce—everything placed just the way he liked it.
Vicious took his spoon and began to eat. His expression remained blank until his brow furrowed slightly. He paused. Then spat the food out harshly into a napkin.
"It's salty," he said sharply, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. He took another bite. His face twisted in disgust.
"Oh God," he muttered under his breath. He wiped his mouth, then turned to her, eyes narrowed in fury. "What good are you? You're completely useless! Do you plan on killing me with this mess?"
Thalia stiffened, trying to hold herself together. "I cooked this food with passion," she replied, keeping her tone steady. "I tasted it. It's fine. Stop complaining. Either eat, go to bed, or go out and get yourself dinner."
For a moment, silence settled in the room like a storm about to break. Vicious stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the floor.
He walked toward her, each step deliberate.
Thalia took a step back, trying to hide the fear rising in her chest. Her fingers trembled, but she clenched them into fists behind her back.
He stopped just in front of her. His hand shot out and gripped her arm tightly.
"How dare you speak to me that way?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His breath was hot with anger, eyes burning with something darker than rage.
Thalia's eyes met his, defiant despite the fear swirling inside her. Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn't back down. "I'm not a slave. I did what I was told. If the food's not perfect, that doesn't give you the right to treat me like trash."
Vicious grip tightened for a moment… then suddenly, he let go.
He turned away without a word and walked back to the table. Sitting down again, he picked up his spoon, scooped another bite of the food, and ate it in silence.
Thalia stood frozen for a few seconds, then turned slowly and walked back into the kitchen, her heart pounding in her chest.
The house returned to silence, but the tension hung in the air—thick, heavy, and unspoken