Chapter 1 - The Breaking PointThe air inside the Blackwell grand conservatory was suffocating, thick with the scent of forced white lilies and Elizabeth Blackwell's heavy perfume. It was day twenty-six of Ethan's month-long absence, and Elizabeth had systematically dismantled every ounce of confidence Lily had built over the previous year.
"Again, Lily," Elizabeth commanded, her voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel. She pointed a manicured finger at a silver tray that Lily had polished three times already. "There is a smudge near the handle. Do you want my guests to think we live in a pigsty?"
Lily felt a sharp, shooting pain crawl up her right forearm, radiating from her wrist all the way to her shoulder. She hadn't slept more than three consecutive hours in weeks. Her legs felt like hollow lead pipes, and her vision swam with tiny, black spots that danced across the edges of her sight.
"No, Mrs. Blackwell," Lily whispered, her voice raspy and thin.
"Speak up! Total submission requires a clear voice," Elizabeth snapped, turning her back to adjust a vase.
Lily stepped forward to pick up the silver cloth. As her fingers closed around the fabric, the room tilted violently. The marble floor seemed to rush up to meet her. A hot wave of nausea washed over her stomach, and her knees buckled.
"Mrs... Mrs. Brooks..." Lily managed to gasp before the darkness swallowed her whole.
The heavy silver tray crashed against the hardwood floor with a deafening clang, scattering crystal glasses into shards. Lily hit the ground hard, her head striking the edge of an antique mahogany table before she crumpled entirely.
Mrs. Brooks dropped her clipboard, screaming, "Elizabeth! Good God, she's passed out!"
Elizabeth didn't even flinch. She simply stepped over Lily's motionless legs, looking down with a cold, disgusted curl of her lip. "Drama. Absolute peasant drama. She lacks stamina. Mrs. Brooks, splash some cold water on her face and drag her to the servants' quarters. We have guests arriving in an hour, and I will not have an unconscious maid cluttering my foyer."
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Richard Blackwell hurried into the room, his face pale with horror. "Elizabeth, have you lost your mind? The girl is severely ill! Look at her—she's dangerously thin!"
"She's fine," Elizabeth dismissed, waving a hand dismissively as she walked away. "Just milking it for sympathy because she can't handle a real woman's standards."
