Chapter 4

The fever broke after two days in the cage.

When my temperature was finally deemed non-threatening to Celesta' s delicate constitution, I was released. I was weak, my limbs felt heavy as lead, and my mind was shrouded in a dull fog.

But there was no time for recovery.

A plain, gray uniform was laid out for me. It was the same uniform the maids wore.

"Miss Norman has decided that your previous role was too elevated," Blake's assistant informed me, his face impassive. "From now on, you will perform the duties of a junior maid. You will address her as 'Your Grace' and Mr. Wallace as 'Sir.' You will not make eye contact unless spoken to."

My identity as Ellen Wallace, as Blake' s wife, was officially erased. I was now just another servant in the house I once ran.

A week later, Celesta decided to throw a lavish birthday party for herself. The mansion was transformed. Hundreds of guests, New York's elite, arrived in a procession of black cars. They were all part of Blake' s world-powerful, wealthy people who now looked at me with a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity as I offered them champagne on a silver tray.

They all knew the story. They whispered behind their hands about Blake's strange spiritual guide and his fallen wife. But no one dared to challenge Blake Wallace. His power was absolute. So they played along with Celesta' s delusions, bowing to her and calling her "Your Grace" with straight faces.

I was assigned to a corner of the ballroom, tasked with refilling drinks and clearing empty plates, meant to be invisible. From there, I watched the grotesque spectacle unfold.

Blake stood at Celesta' s side, the picture of a devoted consort. At the height of the evening, he presented her with his gifts. First, a diamond necklace so large and brilliant it seemed to capture all the light in the room. The crowd gasped.

Celesta accepted it with a pleased smile.

"But that's not all," Blake announced, his voice booming with pride.

His assistants brought in a second gift. It was a small, fluffy white dog, a rare breed that cost more than a luxury car.

Celesta squealed with delight, scooping the dog into her arms. "Oh, Blake, he's perfect! I shall name him 'Prince.'"

She leaned in and gave Blake a long, lingering kiss on the lips in front of everyone. In front of me. The crowd applauded politely. My stomach turned to ice. It felt like I was watching my own life from behind a thick wall of glass.

Then, Celesta's eyes found mine across the room. A malicious glint appeared in them.

"Ellen," she called out, her voice carrying easily over the murmur of the party.

Every head turned toward me. I froze, the silver tray in my hands suddenly feeling immensely heavy.

"Come here."

I walked forward, my feet leaden, my eyes fixed on the floor. I stopped a few feet in front of her.

"Yes, Your Grace?" My voice was a dead, empty whisper.

"I have a new task for you," she said, stroking the puppy's head. "Prince is a delicate creature. He requires constant care. From now on, you will be his personal attendant. You will feed him, walk him, and clean up after him. You will sleep on the floor at the foot of his bed to ensure he is comfortable at all times."

She was making me the servant to her dog. The humiliation was so profound, so absolute, that it almost felt unreal.

"And one more thing," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was still loud enough for those nearby to hear. "I know you have a severe allergy to dogs, Ellen. Your skin breaks out in hives. This will be an excellent test of your devotion. A way to purify yourself through suffering."

My allergy wasn't just hives. It made my throat close up. It made it hard to breathe. Blake knew this. He had once gotten rid of a family dog because of it.

I looked at him, a desperate, silent plea in my eyes. Don't do this. Not this.

He avoided my gaze. He just stood there, his face a blank mask, as this woman sentenced me to a slow, agonizing torture.

There was no point in arguing. My resistance had only ever brought more pain. I bowed my head.

"As you wish, Your Grace," I said.

The party continued. The music swelled, people laughed, and champagne flowed. I stood in my corner, my heart a dead weight in my chest, trying to control the tremor in my hands.

Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet lurched.

A low, guttural roar echoed from deep within the earth. The crystal chandeliers swayed violently, and glasses tumbled from tables, shattering on the floor.

Earthquake.

Panic erupted. The ballroom, moments before a scene of elegant celebration, descended into chaos. Men in tuxedos and women in evening gowns screamed and shoved, their polite facades stripped away in an instant of primal fear.

"Get out! Everyone get out!" Blake's voice cut through the noise. He grabbed Celesta, shielding her with his body, and began pushing their way toward the exit. He didn't even glance in my direction.

I tried to follow, but my allergy was already kicking in from the proximity to the dog. My eyes were watering, and a wheezing sound started in my chest. Prince, the puppy, was yelping in terror, squirming in Celesta' s arms. In the chaos, she dropped him.

"The dog!" she shrieked. "Ellen, get the dog!"

It was an order. Even in a life-or-death situation, I was still the servant. My duty was to the dog.

The building groaned around me. A large crack snaked across the ceiling. I stumbled through the panicked crowd, my lungs burning, and scooped up the terrified puppy.

That' s when the giant crystal chandelier directly above me broke free from its moorings.

I looked up just in time to see tons of metal and glass hurtling toward me. There was no time to run. I curled my body around the dog, a final, absurd act of obedience.

The world exploded in a supernova of pain and then went dark.

I drifted back to consciousness in suffocating blackness. A crushing weight was on my back and legs. Dust filled my lungs, making me cough, each spasm sending waves of agony through my body.

I was buried.

I could hear voices, faint and muffled, from somewhere above.

"There are two of them down there!" a man shouted. "A woman and a dog!"

"The structure is unstable! We can only bring one up at a time before it collapses completely!" another voice yelled.

A hush fell over the chaotic scene above. Then, I heard Blake' s voice, tight with anxiety.

"Get her out of there. Get Ellen out now."

For a heart-stopping moment, I thought he had chosen me. A wild, illogical surge of hope flooded through me. Maybe, when faced with my actual death, the man he used to be had resurfaced.

But then I heard Celesta' s voice, a hysterical shriek that cut through the air.

"No! What about Prince? Blake, that dog was a gift from you! It' s a symbol of our love! If that dog dies, I' ll die! I swear it, I' ll kill myself right here!"

Silence. A long, terrible silence that stretched for an eternity. The unstable debris above me shifted, sending a shower of dust onto my face.

And then, Blake spoke again. His voice was strained, heavy, but his words were clear and unequivocal. They were my death sentence.

"Save the dog."