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Fitz leaves immediately while the rest of the staff shoot each other curious looks. A few give her pitying glances, but the rest take their leave quickly, no doubt not wanting to be caught in the cross-fire.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Miss Parker,” Theo says as he faces her, a frown on his face. “You’re here to work. No excuses. I’ve heard reports from the rest of the staff that you’ve been slacking off on the job. If you want to remain here at Shadowvale, you need to prove you can handle the workload.”
“I’m doing my best,” Evangeline says, arms wrapped around herself. “If I can improve, please tell me how.” Her voice is even and steady, and she’s unafraid to look us in the eye.
“You could start by organizing all the files in my office,” Theo says, barely concealed glee in his tone as he glances at me.
“But you shouldn’t neglect your other duties,” I add, standing up from where I was lounging on the stairs. “I expect you to continue to have my breakfast brought to my room every day.”
“The fireplace needs a thorough cleaning,” Oliver adds, an odd excitement in his eyes. “It hasn’t been cleaned properly in a few years.”
“You seem to have too much free time, so you can clean up after dinner.” Theo steps into her personal space, gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re on dishes duty for the next month.”
Evangeline’s hands are shaking, fingers curling into her palms in fists as she listens to our list of chores.
“Don’t forget to polish the floors today,” I say, rubbing my dirty shoes across the marble. “There’s so much dirt in here.”
“Anything else?” she asks, her voice faint but her posture rigid. There’s a subtle tremor in her hands, shoulders tensing beneath the weight of our demands. Her outward composure belies the vulnerability in her gaze, a crack in her armor that threatens to shatter her completely.
“Yes,” Theo says, a smile blossoming on his face. “Here.” He pushes something into her palm and she stares down at it. “It’s a pager,” he informs her. “You’re on call for us now. Any time, day or night, that we need you, one of the three of us can summon you at any time. Got it?”
Evangeline’s eyes harden and she pinches her lips shut. “Of course, sir,” she says.
“You’re dismissed.”
Evangeline turns and walks away, leaving a feeling of victory in the air. She’s our pawn now, ours to do with as we please.
“Miss Parker!” I call out, striding toward her where she’s on her hands and knees in front of the fireplace, scrubbing the soot out of it. “You were expected to bring my lunch a half hour ago!”
She looks up, brushing a stray hair out of her face and leaving behind a smear of soot. “Natalia said that you asked her to take care of it,” she says, voice breaking in her panic.
“I did no such thing. I paged you an hour ago!” I sneer.
The afternoon sunlight filters through the heavy drapes, casting shadows on her face, her voice barely above a whisper as she responds, “But then Natalia said you asked her to make your lunch.” Her eyes are downcast, shoulders nearly to her ears.
Something about seeing her like this has me hesitating for a moment, but I brush it aside. “That’s ridiculous,” I scoff. “You probably misheard her. Now go make my lunch. And clean yourself up. You look disgusting.”
Later that afternoon, I watch with delight from around the corner as Oliver berates Evangeline for abandoning the fireplace cleanup. She tries to explain that I requested lunch, but Oliver refuses to listen, waving her off with a dismissive hand.
As she starts to get back to it, I watch as Theo pages her, insisting that she’s needed immediately. A twisted sense of pleasure grows as she stares between the fireplace and the pager, tears welling up in her eyes as she tries to figure out what to do.
She hastily leaves to answer Theo’s page, walking as briskly as she can, sniffles echoing in the quiet hall.
The three of us have her running ragged all day and into the night, pushing tasks on her of various complexity, taking delight in the way she seems to become confused and frustrated as she tries her best to keep up with our demands.
“Has the fireplace been cleaned yet, Miss Parker?” Oliver demands.
“I need my laundry, Miss Parker,” I say, tapping a foot expectantly.
“You said you could handle the file organization, Miss Parker,” Theo snaps. “I didn’t expect you to be so incompetent at it.”
But despite our best efforts, Evangeline keeps her head held high, her shoulders back, and if she cries, she doesn’t do it where any of us can see.
Frustration gnaws at me like a relentless itch under my skin. It’s infuriating how she never seems to crack, her demeanor unwavering in the face of our torment.
Beneath the frustration, though, lurks a nagging sense of guilt. It was one thing for us to assert our dominance over her, reminding her of her place as our servant, but something nags inside me, unease filling me as I watch her struggle to carry out every task.
A memory surfaces, unbidden, of her stopping as she scrubbed my toilet, wincing as she rubbed a knot in her lower back to ease the pain.
