The Lenton residence was a rather large estate. It was one of the bigger homes this side Urberium, a prime area east of the capital that was the Megalopolis of Urberium.

The estate consisted of a three-story mansion on ten acres of prime land outside the city.

It boasted of three equally large separated guest houses. It had a courtyard infinity pool, extensive servant quarters, beautiful green lawns, and a meadow on its east side.

All the buildings on the property were of a remarkable white stone. The white stone had also gone down to build its pathways ned with well-manicured hedges of white rose bushes and trimmed yellow and green Durantas.

The widest of these pathways was the driveway. Made of white marble, it stretched out from the main house to the main gate and down to the highway that connected Urberium Prime to the rest of the city and its suburbs. This driveway was not just long but wide also. It was lined on either side by a line of tall cypress trees, and at one point, the driveway crossed a little stream where white Peking ducks and Snow geese swam under a white masonry arch bridge. With all the planning and the landscaping that had gone into it, the estate was all breathtaking.

Malisha slipped through the small space left behind by the still moving gates and came into view of the three green hammers packed in a row behind the gates. Several military men were attending the vehicles. These were the soldiers meant to be guarding the gates while the rest of them were out in the field patrolling the grounds.

The most common feature among these two groups was probably the assault rifles slung from their arms and shoulders. Outside that, their outfits were vastly different. This group by the gates was spotting their full military regalia. The rest patrolled the grounds in just camo wear.

Normally and usually, Malisha would have been invisible to the soldiers, but not today. The present state of her dress could not allow it. And as the nearest soldier turned to look at her, a look of utter surprise transformed his features, turning the glazed disinterested look in his eyes into a look of astonishment.

He stared, and then he blinked. He rubbed his eyes and stared again as if he could not believe what his eyes were seeing.

The man gave her a once over, then another as his eyes roamed unabashedly over her body. However, not in the suggestive way that one would presume. No. As he took in her appearance, his expressions began to change as well as his once shocked appearance melted away only to be replaced by a gloating smirk.

'My Lady," the man chuckled as he bowed down in mock reverence.

My Lady??? She bristled at the salutation. One by one, the rest of the soldiers turned to stare at her with an amalgamation of shocked stares, chuckles, and even loud laughter.

How amusing she must have seemed, standing there in her yellow sundress and a red denim jacket all caked up with mud. It irked her to know that she was the center of their attention, but what more could she do but remind them that she was but a lady. A haggard-looking one, but still a lady nonetheless. And so, she rounded upon the unsuspecting group of gentlemen and speared each one of them with a glare.

Finally, she collectively regarding them with a menacing look of her own. That was before she stomped away, limping down the driveway and towards the main house with a broken heel and one missing shoe.

Despite what anyone of them thought, Malisha was quite aware of my appearance. Even without a mirror, she knew that her dress was no better than the state of my feet, for it was full of mud beyond recognition.

Her usually black hair could only be described as a brown rat nest and her face. Well, she could not even begin to imagine how that looked like without a mirror for reference.

The truth, though, was that she looked like a clown. If wearing mud was the standard for clowns, coupled with green splotches of grass littered all over her dress from when she had tipped over and fallen into the meadows by the lake.

To think that she was not able to retrieve the scarf that was responsible for her present misery?

'What a waste!" She seethed as she trudged up the front steps. Taking the stairs two at a time as her single loosened heel clomped up against the shiny white marble to cause a racket that traveled up into the big building.

But of course, such a scene would always rouse much attention. In this case, it was the attention of the butler and the entire household as well.

They all stopped what they were doing and turned to stare.

Yes, all of them. The parlor-maids standing by the entrance to the front parlor. The chambermaid who had just completed her schedule of inspecting the upper rooms and had just exited a service corridor. The housekeeper and even the footmen who had arrived from the stables.

They all stopped and stared, and Malisha could only smile back nervously. No, she could not afford to antagonize them like she had done the soldiers. For one, the household staff was not leering. They were all just shocked and regarding her with pitying expressions?

Not wanting to remain there much longer, Malisha rushed down the main hallway and disappeared into the elevator, leaving behind her a trail of shocked and curious faces.

At this point, she could only imagine how the news would reach her parents. She could even imagine the disappointed look of her mother. However, and worse still, was the accompanying glare of her father that would not ease up, just like that day almost five years ago.

'Remind me again. How do you get yourself in these situations?" The voice spoke up after what had proven to be a very short interlude.

'Shut up!" she hissed back, unwilling to let the annoying voice of her conscience further devastate her.

The action could not keep away the memories, though.

The memories of her rather disastrous morning. Memories that were rearing their ugly heads at her, one ugly head after another. They tormented her even as she tried to force them down. Only to have them push their way back up into the forefront of her current thoughts in a relentless manner.

It was scary, and a shiver racked through her body. She quaked with apprehension at the barrage of thoughts that had conjured up yet another image of the morning. She recalled the scarf dancing in a wind that was both strong and teasing. The wind tagged it. It pulled the scarf and her to the grassy knoll on the other side of the road.

She saw herself hesitate once then twice before she finally made up her mind to do it.

She had done it countless times before and even had the scars to prove it. Therefore, she pulled herself onto the barbed fence, praying that the barbed fence was not live.

She lifted a finger and touched it. It was not live. Malisha breathed out a relieved sigh when the wire did not stun her. She was in luck. She had decided, and nothing could put a damper on her day, or so she had thought.

Now, she realized that all along, fate had been laughing at her. All along, she convinced herself of her luck, but fate had primed for a proper letdown. After all, pride did come before a fall, and in her case, that had happened literally.

She had done it so many times before. Then why did it turn out so differently? Why did her red pumps have to catch on that spike?

That piece of accursed wire tasked to destroy her! She had tripped upon it, and it had caused her to fall from the topmost wire.

More tingles shot through her body even as her vision blurred before the images of soft grass rising to meet with her face came into focus.

She shook her head in futility, a useless attempt at ridding herself of those thoughts that were now tormenting her. The mental onslaught kept going on. There was no end to it, nor was there an end to the deriding laughter and the words that her consciousness could not allow her to forget.

"Have you no pride!" the voice insisted. It disparaged and mocked for the evident lack of sense in certain aspects of life.

"This is on you too. You did not stop me, remember?" She accused after finally having had enough of it. Even then, the elevator dinged as it stopped on the second floor.

Malisha peeked out her head and looked out, ever vigilant to avoid a second encounter with the household staff. Convinced that she was all alone, she escaped the box successfully and sneaked into her room unnoticed.

"Oh, I did, but you never listen, do you?" The voice riposted after she took a turn into her room. Malisha shook her head no.

As if it meant to prove her wrong, the thing conjured up yet another memory of her. Another image of her further humiliating herself popped up in her head, and she cried out in embarrassment.

"Will you please stop?" she closed her bedroom door and her eyes in frustration.

"Why? Because you exposed your entire derriere to the ‘oh so handsome' Duke of Carlisle?" The voice goaded.

Funny, right? But no, it was not fun at all. She thought as she tried to push away the memory but was unsuccessful. She could see herself now. In her yellow, floral print dress. As she fell and the dress floated up before it settled above her waist, exposing her entire bottom in the wind of the fall and into a muddy puddle nonetheless.

"Stop that! And I will have you know that his name is Duke, not the Duke of Carlisle." She grounded out, wincing as even more images continued to explode in her vision, taking over her thoughts and her sanity as well. 'Whose side are you on anyway?" she finally cried out in despair.

"Of what is right." The blasted thing had the mettle to reply with a smug tone.

"Yea right." The young lady in Malisha was not supposed to roll her eyes. However, she did it anyway, and the annoying voice chuckled with what she could only assume to be much derision.

'I must commend you though. You did do quite a great job of salvaging that situation."

Salvaging??? Was this thing insane? What had happened after that could never be considered recouping. If anything, it had added fuel to a fire that had long been smoking.

"Yea, right," she responded caustically. There was nothing else to say in the wake of such insanity. All that was left was to move on. Maybe, the searing comments and the deriding laughter that had followed her back then would cease to follow her yet again.

"I mean, how could you have known that that particular 'someone' would ride up at that particular moment and with his little 'harem' in tow?" She could feel the air marks on that one-word ‘harem.' Malisha shook her head in despair as the voice cackled up with bemused laughter.

"You mean Genevieve Mathers and her pose of socialites? She is practically his girlfriend so there is no surprise there, but riding with a host of female socialites at eight oclock in the morning? Now that is weird." She agreed, closing her eyes as she massaged her temples lightly. If only to relieve the pressure that was mounting from a growing headache.

It was all its fault. It was the fault of the conscience. It sounded weird, and Malisha was aware of it. However, the one she possessed was quite faulty and even now, the thing was cackling in her head like a madwoman, if only to induce more pain as it continued to dredge up memory after memory of that unfortunate morning.

"Anyway, that was embarrassing right? You have to admit it, right?" It continuously nagged her.

Was it even her conscience or an alter ego? She found that she could not tell. Whichever it was, she found it irritating and badly wanted it to stay quiet!

"Fine! Fine! I get it! Now shut up! You are giving me a headache!" With that, she turned into the bathroom to clean up before retiring to her bed, dreading the hours and the confrontation she knew was sure to come.