Chapter 2: The Price of Freedom

As our eyes met, I felt a chill run through me, my breath tight in my chest.

It was as if the world paused—a TV on mute—while Derek’s glassy stare slowly sharpened into recognition. My pulse thudded in my ears.

All the earlier intimacy vanished. Derek also sensed something was off and stabbed a knife into his own thigh.

He gritted his teeth and drove the knife into his thigh—blood blooming through his jeans, the sharp copper tang filling the air. It was an act of desperation, a brutal, clear-headed move to break whatever spell he was under.

The pain slowly cleared his mind, though his eyes still burned red.

He winced, jaw clenched, and for a split second, I saw the mask of authority drop—leaving only a man fighting for control.

Surveying the room, he bit back a curse and sneered, “Unbelievable. She actually did it.”

His tone was scathing, the kind you use when you’ve been betrayed by someone you thought you knew. He spat out the words like they tasted bad.

The only person he could mean was the leading lady.

Only then did I remember: in the original story, before the leading lady married the main guy, she had taken a poisoned glass of wine for him, damaging her body and leaving her unable to have kids.

People still whispered about it at the church bake sale—how Rachel took that poisoned wine and paid the price.

Funny how the pieces slotted together now, in the afterglow of disaster. The memory stung, like reading a spoiler after you’re already too deep into the book.

Out of guilt, she sent a maid to the main guy’s bed.

A few days ago, I’d overheard some of the older maids gossiping that, when they worked for the leading lady, they’d heard her planning to send someone to Derek.

They even seemed to know who it would be, and said the leading lady’s trusted bodyguard would handle it.

At the time, I’d stupidly been waiting to see the love-hate drama between the leads, never imagining I would become the center of the spectacle.

Now I remembered: those two maids had looked at me with pity in their eyes.

Their glances made sense now—a silent warning, hidden behind polite smiles and lowered voices in the laundry room.

So, they’d known all along.

They just hadn’t told me.

“Derek, Caleb—does he work for you?” Bitter resentment welled up in my chest, and I couldn’t help but ask, needing to know.

My voice came out raw, trembling on the edge of accusation. I needed the truth, even if it hurt.

He denied it at once.

“Three years ago, he started working for Rachel.”

And Rachel was the leading lady.

So, he’d been lying to me all along…

That truth settled over me like a heavy winter coat, stifling and unshakable. My mind raced with all the little moments I’d trusted him, every kindness now cast in a different, colder light.

He was truly angry—Derek even called out the leading lady’s full name.

His voice was thunderous, slicing through the room with barely restrained rage. I flinched instinctively, old habits from a life of being the help making me want to disappear into the wallpaper.

Seeing my face go pale, he frowned slightly. Knowing I’d also been caught up in this scheme, he didn’t make things difficult for me, just waved his hand for me to leave.

His gesture was curt, almost dismissive. In another life, I might’ve felt relief, but tonight it only made me feel disposable.

But before I could get off the bed, I was pinned down.

The movement was sudden, jarring me back to the present. I gasped, instinctively bracing myself.

“Derek?” Suspicion flashed across my face, but my lips were quickly covered, and a wisp of white smoke drifted in.

I tried to twist away, but something sweet and cloying filled my mouth and nose. Panic fluttered in my chest.

My consciousness faded, until a detox pill was forced into my mouth and I snapped awake in shock.

The sudden bitterness of the pill jolted me back. I choked, coughing, heart pounding as the haze lifted.

Derek’s eyes were icy cold. After making sure I wouldn’t speak, he closed his eyes and said in a low voice, “Take off your clothes. I won’t look. The reward is your freedom papers and a stack of cash.”

He spoke in clipped, businesslike tones, the kind you’d use to fire someone or issue a warning. The words stung, but the offer was clear—a way out, if only I’d play my part.

He wanted to know what else they were planning.

His distrust was palpable, the weight of too many betrayals coloring every syllable.

Freedom, with a price tag. I’d take it—hell, I’d crawl through broken glass for it at this point.

I didn’t hesitate. I lay on the bed in my underwear, red marks from being pinched still visible on my neck.

The cold air prickled my skin, and I focused on breathing, on keeping my hands from shaking. Shame mixed with relief—freedom was so close I could taste it.

As a servant, one mistake could cost your life.

Years of working under people like Rachel had taught me to swallow my pride, to move quietly and never cause a scene. Tonight, that training paid off.

Freedom—I wanted it so badly.

The word echoed in my mind like a prayer, a promise of mornings without fear, of a life that might finally be my own.

The main guy lay on one side, the bed a mess, as if we had really been together.

The sheets were tangled, the room heavy with the implication of what might have happened. I tried not to let the humiliation sink in.

We lay side by side, but kept our distance.

It was a silent truce, both of us waiting, neither willing to risk another betrayal.

We waited, not knowing how long, until I was half asleep and the door finally opened.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant tick of a clock in the hallway, until the hinges groaned softly.

In the darkness, someone picked me up, wrapping me in a coat.

The coat was heavy, woolen, familiar in its scent—a blend of pine, leather, and something I’d come to think of as home.

The familiar scent stung my nose. It was Caleb.

I held my breath, caught between relief and new confusion.

The cold wind blew as the door closed. Caleb held me, his gaze fixed on the marks at my neck, lost in thought.

His hands were gentle, almost reverent, but his eyes were clouded, distant. I shivered, unsure if it was from the cold or the ache in my chest.

For a moment, I wanted to open my eyes and ask why he’d done this, but I held back.

The words caught on my tongue. Instead, I listened, letting the question hang between us, heavier than any accusation.

Because I heard the leading lady’s voice.

Her voice cut through the night, high and brittle—a thread of barely-controlled anger weaving through every word.

She was clearly upset that I’d ended up in Derek’s bed. Rachel’s nails dug into my side, sharp as the rose thorns she’d just been hacking. Her voice trembled with emotion: “If I could still have kids, I would never have let you take advantage.”

She gripped my side, nails digging in, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. The jealousy and loss in her voice rang out, raw and unforgiving.

The malice was impossible to ignore, and the pain made me frown.

Her words clung to me, stinging more than her grip. It was the kind of resentment that didn’t fade with time or logic.

At that moment, Caleb finally spoke: “Don’t upset yourself.”

His tone was soothing, an attempt at reassurance, but it landed flat—his concern for Rachel far outweighing any thought for me.

He was worried she’d get too worked up, not noticing at all that I was in pain.

That stung more than anything else. It was like watching a friend comfort a bully and never seeing you at all.

In the end, Rachel snorted and left.

Her footsteps faded down the hallway, heels clicking a staccato rhythm of anger.

The familiar scent of pine filled my nose. I knew I’d been brought back to my room.

The door clicked shut behind us, sealing me in with my own thoughts and a chill that wouldn’t fade.

The chill from outside was gone, but I couldn’t feel even a trace of warmth.

I pulled the blanket tighter, but it was no comfort. I stared at the ceiling, wishing for a morning that would never come.