Chapter 3 Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Right from day one, it was obvious some of the staff weren't just working at the Cross place. They were working for Selene.
Selene Voss strutted around the mansion like she already owned it, her heels clacking on the marble like a judge’s gavel. She didn't need to shout. One look from her could get a maid fired by lunchtime.
She had her crew – Carla, the grumpy kitchen maid; Murray, the driver who couldn't keep his mouth shut; even Ms. Fletcher, who’d stand up straighter than a board whenever Selene walked in.
Mr. Cross might have owned the place, but Selene ran it. And Aria? She was invisible.
At least, until she wasn't.
It started small. Her lunch vanished from the fridge. Towels swapped out for dirty ones. Her cleaning schedule magically changed, piling on extra work. Notes she left on the staff board disappeared.
Every time she asked about it, she got the same fake-sweet answers:
“Oh, you must have just put it somewhere, dear.”
“Didn’t Ms. Fletcher tell you about picking up that extra shift too?”
“Aw, don’t bother the others. They’ve been around longer.”
But the one pulling the strings was Tessa.
Tall, good-looking, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and a uniform that fit like it was made for her, Tessa had been there way before Aria. She made sure everyone knew it.
The laundry room was buzzing with whispers, sharp words cutting through the scent of soap and starch.
“Why should she get the lighter chores? She’s barely been here a month,” Carla snapped, folding sheets with extra force.
“She’s just pretending to be sweet,” muttered another. “Acting like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Wait until Selene notices, then she’ll see where she really belongs.”
The group tittered, nodding, voices rising in agreement, until Maria, usually quiet, was second in command to Ms Fletcher. Slammed down the iron with a clang.
“Enough,” she said, eyes flashing. “All of you talk like you own this place, but none of us do. We’re staff, not queens. Maybe instead of tearing her down, you should worry about doing the job you are being paid for, properly.”
Silence fell. The other maids exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared challenge her.
Maria picked up the iron again, steady and calm, her words lingering in the air like smoke: “Some of us know our place, and some of us know our worth.”
One morning, Aria was struggling to push a heavy cart of linens down a tight hallway. Tessa blocked her way, arms crossed.
“Selene likes things a certain way,” she said, her voice almost bored. “You don’t want to mess that up.”
Aria’s grip tightened on the cart. “I thought I worked for the Cross family and not Queen Selene.”
Tessa smiled, her eyes blank. “Exactly. And soon, Selene will be calling the shots. So, watch yourself… sweetie, I hope you last here, you're already being too loud.”
Aria kept her head down. She wasn’t here to fight. She was just trying to make money, keep Lucy safe, and stay out of the way.
But staying invisible didn't keep her safe.
That afternoon, while wiping down the fancy carved railing in the gallery, Aria heard it, laughter, cold and sharp. She turned, and her stomach dropped.
Selene. Arm-in-arm with Tessa.
They stopped a few feet away. Selene’s eyes swept over Aria like she was just another piece of furniture, her smile sweet and deadly.
“You’re the new one, aren’t you? What’s your name?”
“Aria, ma’am.”
“Cute name,” Selene said. “Too bad you weren’t hired for your memory. Didn’t Ms. Fletcher tell you to stay out of the gallery in the afternoons?”
Aria shook her head. “No, ma’am. Nobody told me.”
Tessa gasped, putting on a show. “Oh no, Selene, I thought she…”
“It’s fine.” Selene’s voice cut through the air. “Some girls take longer to get the hang of things. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
She turned, her heels clicking like gunshots, and walked away.
Tessa lingered just long enough to give Aria a smug smirk.
Aria’s cheeks burned. Her throat felt tight with all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t. She stood there frozen until the hallway was empty again, her cleaning rag clenched in her fist.
That night, lying on her cot, she texted Lucy:
People here are snakes in pearls. Miss you.
Her sister’s reply was fast:
Don’t let them bite you. You’re stronger than all of them.
Aria smiled through the sting in her eyes, folding another sheet to keep her hands busy. The fabric felt cool against her fingers, a small comfort in a world that already felt too harsh, too scary.
Because the Cross mansion wasn’t just a house.
It was a war zone.
And Aria was caught in the middle.
