Once inside the mansion courtyard, the atmosphere screamed wealth. Every corner was adorned with high-quality materials, polished marble, and gold-accented furniture. It was a stunning display of luxury....though Victoria knew it only lasted for few days after her arrival. Ever since the virus outbreak, rich people had begun donating their wealth to the government, all in the name of supporting the development of a cure.
Her family, too, had "contributed" or rather, been stripped of nearly all their belongings. No, not willingly. Their possessions were snatched by government officials, and because they lacked true influence, there was nothing they could do about it. Knowing a few people in power hadn't helped them much. It only gave the officials an excuse to take more.
When the authorities discovered Victoria's blood carried the rare antibodies needed for the vaccine, her family didn't hesitate. They sold her immediately for millions of money.
Now, walking into the mansion she had once suffered in, everything felt surreal. The servants who used to look at her with undisguised disgust now bowed their heads in deep respect as her eyes scanned the extravagant interior. Their sudden reverence unsettled her. She didn't like it. She didn't trust it.
"Welcome home, young lady. I'll escort you to your room. The others went shopping earlier, but they should be back soon," the head maid announced, her voice smooth and warm, a plastic smile stretched across her face.
Victoria's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Her actions, her words...all of it....kept shocking her. Nothing felt real. As if the roles had been reversed in some twisted fairytale.
Her gaze drifted toward the right wing of the mansion, where the kitchen lay. Instinctively, her body tensed, expecting the familiar splash of used water....filthy from cleaning meat hurled at her without warning. It had happened just on her first day at the mansion in her first life hence she was expecting it.
But instead of cruelty, she was met by the beaming face of the family butler....a chubby man with a round, ruddy face who always seemed out of breath from doing too little. He wore black trousers, a crisp white shirt that strained over his belly, and a small cap that perched comically atop his head.
"Greetings, young lady," the butler said with a deep bow, his voice thick and grave with politeness.
Victoria felt her throat tighten. She had to swallow hard to keep her composure.
This man, along with the head maid, had always been the one tasked with carrying out the household's "dirty work." And when Victoria thought of dirty work, she meant herself. Her stepmother, her stepbrothers, and stepsisters never lifted a finger. They simply issued commands, sat back, and watched with glee as the butler and head maid eagerly executed punishments on their behalf. Their cruelty had always found willing instruments.
"The food will be ready soon," the butler continued cheerfully. "Every kind of dish has been prepared. You only need to freshen up. Mr. Ashford said you don't need to wait for the others....just go ahead and eat whenever you're ready."
He was still smiling. That pleasant smile that should have been a sneer. A smirk. A look of contempt.
"Come this way, young lady," the head maid said softly, snapping Victoria from her spiraling thoughts.
Victoria nodded but remained silent, allowing herself to be led without a word. She didn't want to appear suspicious. She didn't want them to know she remembered everything.
But as they walked deeper into the mansion, she frowned inwardly. They were heading the wrong way.
Her "room"....if one could even call it that had never been in this part of the house. It was a dilapidated section at the back, a boy's quarters meant for workers or discarded furniture. The walls were made of poorly treated wood, already rotting in places. The single window had no glass, no cover....nothing to shield her from the harsh sun or biting rain. During storms, the leaky roof drenched her narrow cot, and her complaints were always met with punishment rather than sympathy. Eventually, she stopped complaining altogether and simply endured.
And yet, now the head maid was leading her to one of the most luxurious parts of the mansion. They finally stopped before a large, ornate door.
This was her stepsister's room, the largest and most beautiful in the entire house. Her stepsister had been the only girl before Victoria's arrival and was treated like royalty and Victoria arrival didn't stop that but increased her royalty treatment.
The head maid didn't hesitate. She swung the door open, revealing a lavish space that screamed femininity and privilege. Plush cushions, lacy curtains, and crystal chandeliers gave the room a fairytale glow.
Victoria had been in this room before but only to fetch her stepsister's dirty laundry. She always had to hurry, or she'd be slapped for taking too long.
Now, she stood in the doorway, staring at what used to be forbidden territory. Her breath caught in her throat.
'Oh yeah. Maybe I'm here to pick her dirty clothes.' Victoria thought as she let out a smirk.
"Young Master Theo....your third brother decorated the room especially for you," the head maid announced with a polite smile, her voice calm, almost cheerful. "He said every girl loves pink, so he believed you'd like this style. But if not, he also insisted we redecorate it to your taste immediately."
Victoria froze. Her spine stiffened, her heart hammered in her chest, and her eyes widened in disbelief. Waves of dread surged through her as she processed what she had just heard.
Theo? Her third brother?
The same man who was a reclusive scholar, obsessed with books, potions, and inventions? Quiet and aloof, yes....but also cruel. She remembered clearly how he would experiment with all sorts of concoctions, some of which he tested on her under the guise of curiosity. How he would lecture endlessly, his words as sharp as the needles he pricked her with.
And worse....he was the one who revealed her secret. The one who told the others about her blood. The betrayal that sealed her fate. If he had just stayed silent, just once, maybe none of it would've happened.
He decorated this room for her?
Impossible.
"I... I think there's been a mix-up, ma'am," Victoria finally said, her voice hesitant and cracking at the edges. She couldn't keep the disbelief from slipping through. "This isn't my room. How could my third brother decorate this for me?"
"It's yours young Miss," the head maid confirmed without pause, though her brows lifted slightly at the question. "Don't you like the decorations? If not, we can change it immediately. But for now, please take a bath and and come out to eat."
Victoria let out a short scoff, more out of disbelief than amusement. A dull ache bloomed behind her eyes. This was all too strange.
Something wasn't right.
She glanced at the head maid again, studying the woman's polite smile and calm demeanor. This was the same woman who had dragged her across the floor by her hair. The same woman who once stood by while men....hired by her stepmother poured cold water on her in the dead of winter. The same woman who never lifted a finger unless it was to carry out orders that brought Victoria pain.
Now she was acting like a gentle, respectful servant? Speaking to her with care?
No!
This couldn't be real.
Fate must have rewritten itself... or this was a trap. A sick game. And the head maid and the butler, the very tools of her family's cruelty, were still playing their part....only this time with sugar instead of salt.
She wouldn't fall for it.
She had no choice but to wait for her family to return and reveal their true intentions.
"I... love the room," Victoria finally said, swallowing hard. Her lips stretched into a faint smile, her expression carefully guarded. "Thank you."
The head maid's eyes gleamed with approval, and she bowed slightly again. "You're welcome, Young Lady. As for your family, they should be returning any moment now. But just to ease your mind, I'll send them a message to let them know you've arrived."
"I'd appreciate that," Victoria replied quietly.
Without another word, she stepped into the room. Her gaze swept over the walls and ceiling instinctively, searching for hidden traps....maybe a bucket of cold water precariously tied above the door, or a rope rigged to trip her and trigger some cruel prank. She scanned the floor, the furniture, even the edges of the bedspread.
Nothing. No booby traps, rancid water, broken glass or thorns underfoot.
No torment. Not yet.
Victoria's shoulders dropped as she released a heavy sigh. But her eyes remained wary. Her past life had taught her lessons she'll never forget.