By the time the cab stopped in front of the Markston Estate, the sky had turned a calm shade of orange. The evening light made the white walls of the mansion glow faintly, almost peaceful — but I felt anything but peace.

The driver asked for his fare, and I paid, clutching the lunch box to my chest. For some reason, I had brought it all the way home. Maybe it was the hope that Vincent would at least notice the effort I put in. Or maybe I was just too tired to throw it away.

Stepping out, I adjusted my blazer and took a deep breath before walking up the marble steps. The moment I entered, I could already sense the tension in the air.

Lilian’s voice floated through the hall — soft, sweet, and practiced, the kind of tone that made everyone turn to her.

She was standing by the staircase, her arms folded elegantly, speaking with one of the maids. Her eyes landed on me almost instantly, and the faintest smirk tugged at her lips.

“Oh,” she said, feigning surprise. “You’re back.”

I forced a small smile. “Yes. I just got in.”

Her gaze swept over me from head to toe, lingering for a moment on my tired face and the lunch box in my hand. “Rough day at work?” she asked lightly, pretending concern but dripping with amusement.

“It was fine,” I replied simply, trying to move past her.

But she wasn’t done.

“I heard from the staff that you’re… working again,” she said. “At KNT, right?” She tilted her head with a knowing look. “How wonderful. Though, I heard you’re starting from the lower ranks now?”

Her tone was honeyed, but her words struck like tiny needles.

I forced another smile. “Every great thing starts small. I don’t mind.”

Her brows arched slightly, amused. “Of course you don’t. Some people just have… simpler goals.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, gripping the handle of the lunch box tightly. I could feel the humiliation rising, but I swallowed it. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Before I could reply, a familiar, colder voice echoed through the hall.

“What’s with all the noise?”

Vincent descended the stairs, his sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened from a long day. His eyes flicked briefly to Lilian, then to me — a fleeting glance that froze me where I stood.

“Vincent,” Lilian’s voice softened instantly, dripping with sweetness. “We were just talking about Alice’s new job. She’s doing so well already.”

“Really?” he said flatly. “That’s good.”

His tone was clipped, emotionless. He walked past both of us as if neither existed. My heart ached watching his indifference, but I managed to speak.

“I brought you something,” I said quietly, lifting the document I was holding.

He stopped, glanced at it, then looked back at me with cold disinterest.

“I don’t need it,” he said simply.

“Vincent…” I began, trying to explain, but his eyes were like frost.

“It’s ‘Mr. Markston’ when we’re in this house,” he said. “Remember your place,Miss Alice.”

The air seemed to vanish from my lungs. Even Lilian blinked, pretending to hide her smirk behind a hand.

I lowered the document slowly. “Understood,” I said, my voice barely steady.

He turned toward the sitting room, where a few board documents lay scattered on the table. “Don’t forget to clean up the dining area before Grandpa returns,” he said to the maids, not sparing me a glance.

It was as if I wasn’t even there.

Lilian followed him, her heels clicking softly against the floor. Before turning the corner, she looked back at me. “You should rest, Alice. You look exhausted,” she said, her voice low but condescending. “Not everyone’s built for both housework and office life.”

I said nothing. I couldn’t.

I just stood there, staring at the marble floor as the faint echo of their voices faded down the hall. The lunch box trembled slightly in my hands.

Finally, I turned toward the guest room — my room now — walking slowly, each step heavy. When I reached the door, I closed it quietly behind me and leaned against it.

The silence hit hard.

Setting the lunch box and documents on the table, I finally allowed my body to slump onto the bed. The smell of the room, faintly scented with lavender, surrounded me, but it couldn’t comfort me.

I pressed a hand over my face.

How had it come to this?

I had walked into his office with hope. I had tried to fix things, to bridge even a small gap between us. But instead, I had been reminded — again — of how distant we had become.

He looked at me now as if I were nothing. And maybe… to him, that’s exactly what I was.

Still, no matter how much it hurt, a part of me whispered: You have to endure it. For your babies. For yourself.

I wiped my tears quickly when I heard footsteps passing the hallway. Probably one of the maids.

I forced myself to sit up, staring at the clock. Dinner would be soon, and Grandpa would be back. I didn’t want him to see me like this.

Taking a deep breath, I tied up my hair and splashed cold water on my face.

The reflection staring back at me in the mirror looked calmer, but the pain behind my eyes betrayed everything I was trying to hide.

“Smile, Alice,” I whispered to myself. “You’re fine.”

But the truth was, I wasn’t.

---

In the main sitting room, I sat with a glass of water, flipping through a report that I wasn’t really reading.

Lilian sat across from me, scrolling through her phone.

I could feel her gaze occasionally drift toward me, but I didn’t acknowledge it. My mind was somewhere else — back on the image of Alice standing by the staircase with that lunch box and papers in her hands.

Her eyes — they looked so defeated.

I clenched my jaw and looked away, telling myself it didn’t matter. She had chosen this distance. She was the one who said what we had was just a contract. I was only respecting that now.

“Vincent?” Lilian’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “You seem distracted. Everything okay?”

“Just work,” I said curtly.

She nodded but smiled faintly, satisfaction flickering in her eyes. “You know, she really looks tired. Maybe working isn’t good for her right now.”

I didn’t respond. I simply set my glass down and stood up. “It’s late. You should head to your room.”

She tilted her head, pretending to pout. “You’re always so serious.”

“Goodnight, Lilian.”

With that, I walked away.

In my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand over my face. The silence was heavy, almost suffocating.

“She’ll be fine,” I muttered under my breath, as if convincing myself. “I did the right thing.”

But deep down, a quiet ache throbbed in my chest — the kind that wouldn’t fade, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.