Fixing the broken heiress

Chapter One

Slumber and pains

"One would mistake you for a nun during the day." Kyle said. With a cruel glint in his eyes he added, “For someone who begs to be undressed on most nights" he ended with a chuckling smile.

The word pierced through Zaya like a knife in a sack. She stood unflinchingly, tightening her grip to the edge of the counter.

The clink of porcelain echoed in the quietness of the kitchen. Zaya continued to stir the coffee with trembling fingers.

She turned on intervals to see Kyle’s predatory eyes. Still, unshaken.

He took the mug from her. His fingers brushing hers.

No thank you. No acknowledgement.

Just slow gulping. Searching her face with his heavy-lidded eyes.

He lowered the cup of coffee and took one last glance at Zaya before stepping out of the kitchen.

Shocked?

No.

Maybe mortified.

Humiliation had become the new normal in Kyle's house for Zaya. A routine. One as regular as brushing of teeth. There was nothing new no more.

Then the house keeper, Sussan, walked in moments later.

No greetings. No responses either. No acknowledgement. Just orders and bullying.

"Distress princess. The water on the plates, wipe them. You left them wet again! Stop standing like there's nothing to be done! You get me sick!"

Zaya picked up the kitchen napkin and started drying off water from the already washed dishes. Darting from the sink to the counter, her hands working faster in competition with her breath. Then the kettle started from a mild hiss, graduating to whistling.

The housekeeper screamed. "Have you added deafness to your many disabilities this girl? Get the boiling water!"

Zaya moved with haste towards the stove put out the flames and reached for the kettle. As she was about to pick up the kettle, the ceramic slipped, and part of the hot water content scalded over the edge and poured on her bare foot.

Agony.

Zaya gasped sharply. The heat sent the pain shooting through her nerves, slowly, then harshly.

Susan smashed the back of her hands on Zaya's head.

The impact landed on the left side of her temple.

Zaya let out a scream. She was caught in between reaching for her hurting foot and caressing her temple.

"You think this is a place to play delicate around? You think you're a princess around here?"

Tears dripped fresh down Zaya's cheek. Wetting the collar of her V-neck blouse.

"Hey!" The kitchen door burst open.

Kyle walked in.

"Is everything chill here?"

Kyle said with his eyes furrowed. Not in concern. Mockery maybe.

Sussan stepped aside, arms folded as though she wasn't part of the scene.

"She let the hot water pour on her,” She said with a shrug.

Zaya's mouth trembled. She didn't realize when she started speaking in self-defense until the words started slipping out of her.

"I —I was just trying to get the kettle, the plates, No the water —"

Kyle raised his hand.

Shhh!!

Silence.

He moved closer. Slowly and gracefully.

Then he went down on one knee.

Zaya crouched slightly trying to find balance to her burnt foot.

He took her trembling hands, held the hem of her cottage skirt and dabbed at the spilled water keeping a still eye contact.

Zaya kept her wide eyes fixated on his. Her face rigid with shame. Her jaw clenched. Her silent cry searching invisible tracks down her soul.

Fresh tears gathered at the edges of her eyes.

"This is not going to repeat itself right? Because if it does, you'll pay for every mistake you make around here."

He got up slowly and turned to the door.

"Sussan, leaves her to tidy the entire place. I need my breakfast in twenty."

Kyle slammed the door

Sussan followed shortly after.

Zaya staggered up, her breath coming sharp and fast.

She began tidying up, struggling to move with the pains.

With Susan's appearance in the kitchen earlier, Zaya had hoped she would be spared of serving Kyle for the day. For all she knew, Sussan had been a housekeeper only by title and paycheck while she was the one who does the work.

With her pulsating foot, she limped to the stove— the tray was a bit heavy—fruits, eggs, toast, juice–

Zaya took every step as it came, she headed past the dining and Kyle wasn't seated.

Of course.

She headed upstairs to his room.

Sweat lined up her temple.

She gave three soft knocks.

“Come in!”

Then she opened.

Kyle was seated across the room, sprawled lazily in a leather chair, fixing his eyes on her as she walked in, with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"I was starting to think you wanted to starve me." He said, standing up.

He stepped closer to her, his hands reaching towards her. He brushed her hair off in a way that made her skin crawl.

"Please—" she gasped. Heart pacing.

Before Kyle could make another move, there was a loud chattering outside that sent a split in the air instantly.

Kyle moved to the window, he parted the curtains and looked out.

He smiled.

Then returned the gaze at Zaya and smirked.

"My mind is changed, bring the food down to the dining."

Kyle bounced down the stairs with urgency.

It turned out the awaited Kameron’s son had arrived.

The tray was still sited in Zaya's hands. Her fingers ached from clenching. Her feet were throbbing.

All that didn't really matter to anyone. It never did.

The last person who could spare pity on her could never be Kyle.

Zaya shook off the whirling thoughts and made it out one step at a time, her legs felt heavier, but she held still to the tray, ignoring the quake in her knees.

Taking the stairs slowly, descending towards the sitting room where everyone was standing.

A voice greeted.

"Hello Zaya"

Shock splattered through her spine.

The voice.

It punched through her like a weapon.

Then a flash.

She lost grip.

The gold tray fell off her hands and sent everything crashing to pieces.