The next morning, Vicious sat in the living room with three of his friends. The air was heavy with cigar smoke and the low hum of their discussion. Thalia walked out quietly, carrying a tray with steaming cups of tea. Her hands trembled slightly, not from the weight but from the pressure of being watched by so many sharp eyes.
As she stepped closer, her slipper caught on the edge of the rug. The tray tilted, and before she could steady it, the tea spilled forward, splashing directly onto Vicious's trousers—dangerously close to his midsection.
Vicious shot up instantly, anger flashing across his face. "You did this on purpose, didn't you? Trying to hurt me?" His voice was loud enough to silence the room.
Thalia gasped, "No—I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, it was an accident."
"Accident?" Vicious spat, glaring down at her. "Don't deny it. Admit the truth. Just because I've been lenient with you doesn't mean you can do whatever you like or speak to me however you please."
Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to speak. "I would never try to harm you. I've told you—it was an accident."
The defiance in her eyes, however faint, only fueled his rage. In two strides he was before her, seizing her wrists in an iron grip. She winced but refused to cry out. Without another word, he dragged her across the hall. The clatter of the tray and cups echoed behind her as she stumbled to keep up.
Moments later, he shoved her into the dark storeroom and locked the door. The click of the bolt sounded final.
Inside, Thalia pressed her palms against the wooden surface. The air was musty, thick with dust and the scent of old boxes. Darkness swallowed her whole. Her heart raced—part fear, part anger. Why was she always punished for accidents? Why was he so quick to see malice in her actions?
She hugged herself and sank into the corner. I won't cry, she told herself. But her throat ached with unshed tears.
Back in the living room, Vicious returned to his seat, jaw tight. His friends exchanged curious looks, though none dared to question him outright. One of them, Mario, leaned forward with a smirk. "That maid… she's quite pretty. Are you sure she's just a maid? I've never seen her here before."
"She's new," Vicious replied coldly, reaching for his cup. "Just started working here."
The others chuckled, nudging each other knowingly. Mario pressed further, his tone teasing. "Only a maid? Or is there something more?"
Vicious's eyes darkened. "Enough. Stop with the nonsense. We came here to strategize, not joke."
The friends nodded, sipping the tea Thalia had prepared earlier. Mario, however, couldn't resist. He lifted his cup and inhaled deeply. "Mmm… this is good. That maid knows how to brew a proper cup. I love it
When the gathering finally ended and the others stepped outside, Vicious walked Mario to the door. Before he left, Vicious pulled him aside. His voice was low, dangerous. "Don't even think about her. Don't look at her that way. She's mine to deal with—understand?"
Mario raised his hands lightly, a teasing smile on his lips. "Relax, brother. I was only joking."
But Vicious eyes told another story. He wasn't joking. Not at all.