Chapter 4 - Natalie’s Jealousy
That evening, the tension inside the staff quarters had reached a boiling point.
Natalie slammed a ceramic mug onto the small kitchen counter, the hot coffee sloshing over the rim. She turned to face Rachel, her eyes burning with an intense, long-simmering frustration.
“Are you completely insane, Rachel?!” Natalie hissed, keeping her voice low so Lily wouldn't wake up in the adjoining bedroom. “You let your kid draw on Mr. Vale’s face? Do you have any idea how many men would be lying in a dumpster right now if they pulled a stunt like that?”
Rachel, sitting at the small wooden table with a cup of chamomile tea, looked exhausted. “I didn't let her do anything, Natalie! She slipped away while I was talking to Mrs. Gable. What was I supposed to do? Tackle her in the middle of a mafia boss’s private study?”
“He didn't punish her,” Natalie said, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and deep, festering resentment. She gripped the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. “That’s what infuriates me. For five years, I have walked on eggshells around that man. I’ve anticipated his every mood, memorized his schedule, kept his secrets, and never once asked for a single extra privilege. He has never looked at me twice, Rachel. Not once. And your kid walks in, defaces his face with a cheap wax crayon, and he laughs?”
Rachel stared at her sister, seeing the raw, wounded vulnerability beneath Natalie’s anger. “Natalie... are you in love with him?”
Natalie’s breath hitched. She looked away, her cheeks flushing crimson. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is my business when you look at me like I’ve stolen something from you,” Rachel said softly. “Listen to me. I don't want his attention. I don't want his money, his estate, or his world. I am hiding from an abusive husband, and I am trying to keep my daughter safe. The last thing I want is to become the center of attention in a house full of dangerous men.”
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“Well, you already are,” Natalie snapped bitterly, turning back to the sink. “Mrs. Gable has already reassigned your duties. You’re no longer down in the laundry wing. You’ve been moved to the second-floor private residence. Directly outside Mr. Vale’s study.”
Rachel’s tea cup froze halfway to her mouth.
