The house looks empty without the servants. Bodyguards carry Leilani’s luggage, and she’s about to climb the stairs to her room when loud footsteps echoed through the hall.
“Mrs. Bamford,” a rough voice greets her.
A squat woman in a long black servant’s dress approaches, followed by several other maids in the same outfit.
Leilani turns around and looks down. The woman in front is Maureen, Mrs. Bamford’s head housekeeper. Leilani assumes that Maureen is here to invite her to Mr. Bamford’s house. In the past, Mrs. Bamford would frequently invite Leilani over when she was bored. Every time, Leilani returned home humiliated and covered in wounds.
Leilani feels exhausted from the chaos at Andrew’s and her terrible nightmare. The thought of dealing with Maureen irks her.
“What do you want?” Leilani asks impatiently.
Maureen’s wrinkled face is alight with excitement. She’s a sadistic woman who enjoys punishing and whipping Leilani. Last time Leilani managed to deprive her of the fun of a whipping, but she won’t let Leilani get away from the whipping this time.
“Mrs. Bamford has asked me to take you to her place,” Maureen says.
Leilani descends the stairs and approaches Maureen.
“Is Mrs. Bamford missing me again?” she asks with mock sweetness.
“Cut the crap!” Maureen snarls, “Get her!”
“Don’t move!” Leilani raises her voice.
As Waylen’s wife and the lady of the house, the maids obey her. They give her a frightened glance and freeze in place. Leilani sneers down at them. She knows she can’t avoid Mrs. Florence Bamford, but she refuses to allow the maids to drag her around.
“I can go on my own,” she says, taking brisk strides toward the door.
“Take her luggage to Mrs. Bamford’s house,” Maureen instructs the bodyguards.
The men cast uncertain looks at Leilani.
“Why is that necessary?” Leilani asks flatly.
“Mrs. Bamford is disappointed that you haven’t been able to figure out the Bamford family’s rules since your marriage,” Maureen replies with cruel excitement, “From tonight forward, we’re going to give you a stern and intensive training. “
Leilani sneers. Mrs. Bamford has been trying to discipline her ever since she married Waylen, using Maureen to do her dirty work. After Leilani escaped her last whipping, Maureen has been more vigilant than usual—she senses that Leilani has changed, but she’s not sure why. Seeing Leilani sneer makes chills run down Maureen’s spine.
Leilani walks on the broad pebble path to Mrs. Bamford’s house. The European sconces cast long shadows. As Leilani approaches the door, Maureen shoves her roughly and suddenly from behind. Leilani stumbles, catches herself, and turns around to glare at Maureen.
“What a pathetic, disgusting woman,” Leilani thinks, “She grows bold just because we’re near Mrs. Bamford. In the other house, she wouldn’t dare to touch me, but now that she has the upper hand she becomes fearless.”
Maureen glares back at Leilani.
“What?” Maureen challenges, “What can you do about it? Suck it up!”
Before Leilani can respond, Maureen nods at one of her minions. The woman grabs Leilani firmly by the arm.
“Take her to the little dark room,” Maureen commands.
Leilani is surprised by the command. She assumed she’d have to face Mrs. Bamford, but Maureen’s order indicates she’s going to be locked away instead. The maid guides Leilani out of the house through a side door and leads her up to a small cottage in the middle of a forest. The cottage was originally designed to discipline servants, but in recent years she’s been it’s only inhabitant.
The cottage is dark and cold at night. When the wind blows through the forest it makes an eerie and terrible howling sound. Maureen pulls a key from her pocket and unlocks the cottage door, and the servants drag Leilani in and roughly shoved her to the floor. Maureen grins cruelly before slamming the door shut. Leilani can hear the scraping of the lock and the clanking of chains against the iron door. Leilani is alone in the darkroom with nothing but a bed and a small window.
Before Leilani can get up from the cold floor, Maureen’s taunting voice comes in through the window.
“Mrs. Bamford has ordered us to leave you in this room for three days to reflect upon your mistakes,” Maureen says, “Once you understand where you went wrong, she’ll personally give demonstrate the correct way to follow the Bamfords’ rules.”
Maureen slams the iron shutters closed, plunging the room into complete darkness. Leilani can hear her footsteps crunching on the gravel as she walks away.
The room is damp, and it smells of mold. Leilani knows that moss and mushrooms growing on the damp walls, and she’s grateful she can’t see it all. Though the bed is cold and hard, it’s drier than the rest of the room.
Leilani curls up on the bed, but she feels the damp and cold seep into her bones. Although it’s almost summer, she shakes and trembles as if she’s freezing. Eventually, she falls into a fitful sleep. When she wakes, she has no idea how long she’s slept, but a beam of light shines through a chink in the shutters. The light casts an irregular, four-lined pattern where it hits the wall.
Leilani hears footsteps from afar. Slowly, they seem to approach the cottage. Then she hears voices.
“Mrs. Florence Bamford asked us to hunt game for Miss Summer’s birthday a few days from now,” one voice says, “Usually, she only asks us to do that when a president or foreign dignitary is coming. I guess that means the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?” asks another voice.
“Haven’t you heard that Mr. and Mrs. Bamford signed divorce papers in secret,” says the first, “They say Waylen is getting a new wife. Why else would Mrs. Florence Bamford tell us to celebrate Miss Summer’s birthday and not Leilani’s? They’re the same day, you know.”
“Oh,” says the second, “I was wondering why so many people had started referring to Miss Summer as Mrs. Bamford.”
“They’re trying to flatter her and curry favor,” says the first, “Did you know that Mrs. Florence Bamford hired some celebrities and famous PR agents to manage Miss Summers’ social media? Mr. Francis Bamford’s servants told me that she’s been praising Miss Summers in front of him for weeks. It’s possible that he called Waylen away to pressure him into marrying Miss Summers. Maybe this birthday celebration will turn into an engagement party.”
“I pity Leilani,” sighs the second, “I heard that Mrs. Bamford put her in dark cottage.”
“It’s her fault for putting Waylen in harm’s way,” retorts the first, “Mrs. Bamford was right to get angry.”
Leilani knows that there are always rumors in the Bamford’s house. It’s almost impossible to keep a secret because so many people share the house. Information always gets out, and when it does it spreads like wildfire.
Leilani curls up tighter. She finds their voices loud and annoying. She weakly rolls over, trying to find a position in which the sun doesn’t bother her. Before she can get comfortable, she hears the lock scraping. She blinks and sees a figure silhouetted against the bright light. The figure’s shadow crosses the room, and Leilani squints to try to identify the person; when she recognizes Leonie, she braces herself for the other woman’s petty torments.
Leonie drags Leilani from the bed and slaps her across the face. Leilani’s neck jerks sideways with pain, and she inadvertently bites her cheek. She tastes blood.
“I’m slapping you on Waylen’s behalf!” Leonie announces self-righteously.
The slap fails to quell Leonie’s anger—instead, it seems to aggravate it. She points accusingly at Leilani.
“It’s your fault that Waylen is still in a coma,” she hisses, “Why do you always get him hurt? Why aren’t you hurt instead?”
The pain on Leilani’s face pales in comparison to the pain Leonie’s words create. She can’t believe that Waylen hasn’t woken up yet, and she wonders what’s wrong with him.
“It’s a good thing you’re getting divorced,” Leonie spits, “Mrs. Bamford was right when she called you a black widow. If Waylen stays with you, you’ll get him killed sooner or later.”
Leonie slaps Leilani again, leaving a mark on her cheek. Before Leonie can move away, Leilani grabs her manicured hand and twists her finger backward. If Leonie moves too quickly, Leilani
“Who are you to worry so much about Waylen?” Leilani sneers, “Are you speaking as his future wife?”
Leonie stands frozen in place. She wants to recoil from Leilani’s touch, but she’s scared Leilani will break her fingers. She feels the tendons in her finger strain painfully, and she flushes with anger.
“You’re divorcing Waylen—he isn’t yours anymore,” Leonie hisses, “So why can’t I talk to you as his future wife? In a couple of days, Mrs. Bamford will officially announce my status as a candidate for Waylen’s new wife, and we all know I’ll win—I have more edge than other women.”
Leonie’s edge is not innate. She’ll beat the other woman because she’s Mrs. Florence Bamford’s favorite, and the older woman will do everything in her power to see that Leonie is chosen. Leilani stands up and looks down at Leonie. She gives Leonie a condescending look.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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