Best Behaviour

I stumbled in my heels, each step an effort as I made my way to the general bathroom instead of my room. Going back to my room would send a message.

A message that Shallow would not take well.

He’d say I was avoiding him. Avoiding his esteemed guest.

And I didn’t want to be punished for it.

But as I stepped inside the bathroom, I froze.

Shallow’s daughter. Fiona.

She was already there, arms crossed, lips curling into a smirk the moment she saw me.

Sigh. Now I had to deal with this, too.

“The money-grubbing whore is here,” she sneered.

I forced a sweet smile. “Hi, Fiona. How’s your toothache coming along?”

Her face twisted. “Don’t talk back to me, you wench!”

I shrugged. “I see the pain is making your mouth leak bad words.”

Her hands clenched at her sides. “You will be dealt with,” she hissed before storming out in a flurry of expensive fabric and entitlement.

I sighed again, gripping the counter. I wouldn’t let them break me.

Their father could maltreat me all he wanted, but I wouldn’t let his children bully me, too.

I met my own gaze in the mirror, and my breath hitched.

Oh dear.

My lipstick was smudged.

A visible sign. A dangerous sign.

Did Fiona notice?

I prayed she didn’t as I reached for a napkin, wiping and repairing the mess. But my hands were shaking, not from fear…

From the realization.

I kissed Damien. Damien kissed me.

Oh mon Dieu.

This was a lot. Too much.

But I needed to go back inside.

I took a deep breath, straightened my dress, and faced my reflection once more.

I was Éloise Moreau.

And I was strong.

Lifting my chin, I turned on my heel and walked out.

As I walked, I wished I could rip off these heels. Every step was a reminder of Shallow’s control, the way he dictated what I wore, how I looked. Earlier, I had been breathless, not just from Damien but from the suffocating tightness of this dress.

I reached the staircase and clutched the railing, descending slowly. Their voices drifted up from the dining hall, a murmur of conversation and laughter. My mind was so preoccupied, I didn’t notice the foot that jutted out in my path until it was too late.

My heel caught.

I gasped, stumbling forward, crashing onto my palms and knees with a sharp cry. The sting of impact flared up my bruised skin, and humiliation burned hotter. I lifted my head, my pulse thundering in my ears.

A low chuckle.

Fabio.

Shallow’s eldest son straightened from where he leaned lazily against the railing, towering over me with a smug smirk.

"Fabio!" I snapped, my voice trembling with anger and shame.

He only tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Yes, doll?"

I forced myself to stand, wincing as pain flared up my knees. "Why did you trip me?"

Before he could answer, another voice cut through the air.

"Eloise," Shallow's tone was smooth, almost amused, as he strode toward me, his daughter Fiona trailing behind. "I thought I told you to be on your best behaviour."

My stomach tightened.

"I wasn’t doing anything," I protested, swallowing down the lump in my throat. "He tripped me. He, "

The slap came before I saw it.

A crack of flesh against flesh.

My head snapped to the side, my cheek stinging, burning, and my breath hitched. The room spun for a moment before settling into silence.

I didn’t dare move.

Shallow stared down at me, his expression unreadable, as if hitting me was nothing more than a casual reprimand.

And I knew, without a doubt, that the worst was yet to come.

"How could you accuse him of such petty little tricks?" Shallow’s voice was sharp, edged with feigned disappointment. "How could you embarrass me in front of a guest? I warned you, Eloise. Now, you’ll have to be dealt with."

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, and for the hundredth time, I wondered, was he truly convinced by their lies, or did he simply enjoy punishing me? Did he actually believe them, or was I just an easy target for his cruelty?

A lump formed in my throat, and I sniffed, trying to keep my emotions in check.

"Go sit," he barked.

I flinched but obeyed, turning back toward the dining table. My body ached as I moved, my legs still unsteady from the fall, my cheek burning from the slap.

I reached my chair, and my stomach twisted as my eyes landed on Damien. He sat there, expression cold and unreadable, watching, observing.

I dropped my gaze, heart hammering, and lowered myself into the seat across from him.

How much worse could this night get?

I hated my life.