The day after her arrival turned into an ordeal for Veronika. Forced labor—cooking, cleaning, and bowing her head to orders—didn't suit her lineage or her explosive temper. From very early on, resentment devoured her.
— This is bloody nonsense — she huffed as she swept the floor, brow knotted with pure anger.
A few steps away, Luna and a couple of others watched her with a mix of curiosity and weariness. When one of them let out a little laugh, Veronika stopped short.
— What's so funny? Do you enjoy watching me humiliate myself like this?
— You asked for it — Luna replied, having just walked in, not bothering to soften her voice. — You refuse to accept simple things.
— Simple? — Veronika panted, gripping the broom. — This isn't "simple." It's humiliating. It's not worthy of a Kensington.
— Precisely: it doesn't matter where you come from here — added Luna. — Right now you're just one of us.
Veronika felt the words knock the wind from her. It was the first time anyone had told her so directly that her lineage didn't matter. A stab of rage went through her, but she chose not to answer. With her lip curled, she set the broom on a chair and walked away.
— I need to think how to get out of this place — she told herself, climbing to her room with firm steps. — I'm not going to spend my life scrubbing floors.
An Uncomfortable Plan
The afternoon passed in a stream of orders and back-and-forths with Anna and the others. In a fit of pride, Veronika refused to take part in the kitchen, limiting herself to wandering the halls until Anna called her again.
— Veronika, come to the kitchen. You need to help with dinner.— Help? — The redhead clicked her tongue. — Isn't it enough that I clean floors?— You'll cook and serve — Anna crossed her arms. — Or are you going to refuse the work again?
Luna, in the back chopping vegetables, turned with a sigh.
— Why are you so insufferable? At least cut the vegetables or the meat. It's not that hard.
Veronika couldn't hold back the fury prickling in her chest.
— I don't feel like it. This is beneath me, is that clear? I have mansions bigger than this place, and I wasn't born to be a damn maid.
— Do you really think anyone here cares? — Luna cut in. — You're insolent, and I don't know how they tolerate your tantrums. Come on, grab that knife already.
Veronika looked at the knife and felt disgust at the idea of handling meat or vegetables with bits of soil on them. She refused, pushing her hand away in revulsion.
— No — she growled. — I won't do it.
— You're acting like a child — Luna muttered. — Just cut a piece of meat. It's not the end of the world.
Veronika's eyes burned with rage. Before anyone could react, she grabbed a stack of plates and hurled them to the floor with brutal force. The crash echoed through the kitchen, shards of crockery flying everywhere.
— You can't force me to do this! — she screamed, face flushed. — I'm here because of my father, not by choice!
A heavy silence followed her outburst. It drew Anna's attention; she approached cautiously, eyes never leaving the broken pieces.
— Your scenes won't change anything, Veronika. The Master doesn't tolerate those who break the house's order.— Who do you think you are to threaten me? — Veronika spat.— I'm the one who enforces discipline — Anna replied evenly. — And, unfortunately for you, that authorizes me to put you in your place when needed.— You're a wretch!
At the direct insult, Luna, who had been watching, stepped in:
— Veronika, calm down already. At least stop acting like a hysterical lunatic.
Those words lit a fuse. Veronika snatched another plate and threw it at Luna without hesitation. It shattered against her arm, leaving a shallow cut that bled enough to stain her uniform.
— You're insane! — Luna exclaimed, staring at the wound.
Veronika let out a tense, almost unhinged laugh.
— Does it hurt? Right. Didn't you say cutting meat wasn't the end of the world? Looks like plates are.
A Cry of Authority
Anna, at the edge of her patience, raised her voice with contained anger:
— This is unacceptable! You're going to learn this house's order right now!
She signaled the others to restrain Veronika. Two grabbed her arms while another moved to gag her.
— I hate doing this — one of them muttered —, but you brought it on yourself.
— Let go of me, you witches! — Veronika thrashed, out of control. — Get your hands off me!
At that moment, firm footsteps sounded in the hallway and, in the kitchen doorway, the Master appeared. To his right came a woman in a pearl-gray suit: his secretary, carrying a folder and a small notepad. Both radiated a calm that contrasted with the chaos of broken dishes.
— What's happening here? — he asked gently.
Silence materialized at once. The staff loosened their grip and bowed. Anna took a step forward, avoiding the shards.
— Welcome, Master — she said, unusually respectful. — I'm sorry for the chaos, but… a situation has arisen with Miss Kensington.
— A situation? — he repeated, still courteous. — Anna, be specific.
The secretary opened the folder as if ready to take notes, but looked up when Luna, her arm bleeding, spoke:
— Sir, the newcomer lost her head, threw plates, and hurt me.
The Master raised a calm hand.— Enough. I didn't ask for your testimony. Anna, continue.
Anna pointed at Veronika, still struggling.— She refuses to cooperate and exploded into violence.
The Master allowed himself a faint smile.— Kensington… I didn't expect to see you in trouble so soon. — He looked at Luna's wound. — Untie her.
— But, Master… — Anna began.
— I told you to untie her — he repeated without raising his voice. — I trust your judgment; let me handle this part.
They released Veronika. Freed, she exploded verbally:
— What is wrong with you? You think you have the right to lay hands on me?
The Master took a slow breath, then turned to the secretary.— Note: "Minor damage in the kitchen. Employee injured, slight cut." — She nodded silently and wrote.
— You may resume your duties — he directed to the staff. — Anna, take Luna to the infirmary.
Anna obeyed; the secretary stepped aside to let them pass, folder held to her chest. As soon as the kitchen cleared, the Master addressed Veronika in the same calm tone as before:
— Are you done? Because if you're not going to throw any more plates, we could talk peacefully…
— I… — The redhead felt a flicker of shame. — They provoked me. I'm not their toy or their slave.
— No one is calling you a slave, Miss Kensington — the Master replied. — But your father and I agreed on something: staying here meant accepting certain rules.
She looked at him with a hint of contempt.
— Don't talk to me about those "rules." It's obvious you intend to treat me like trash.
— You're mistaken. — His tone remained polite, without a trace of aggression. — Please, come outside. I dislike disorder.
He took her by the arm, firm but not rough, and led her out of the kitchen. Veronika felt the hallway breeze on her face, and it struck her how calm the atmosphere could be away from the chaos she had caused.
— What do you want? — she snapped.
— To start with, for you to calm down. — The Master tilted his head. — Kensington, I understand this isn't what you imagined, but I suggest you avoid further… missteps.— Do you think I care? — she muttered, still frowning.
He gave a brief, humorless chuckle.
— Maybe not now. But I'm sure you don't want to alienate those who can help you, or disappoint your family.
Veronika swallowed. She hated to admit it, but her father had everything to do with this damned arrangement.
— Then stick to your tasks without causing a disaster. Tomorrow, at eight sharp, come to my office. We'll discuss your situation and see how to fit you into a more… reasonable plan.
— My situation? — she echoed, with a trace of mockery. — Do you have an education plan for me?
— Call it what you like — he smiled courteously. — I'm not your enemy, Kensington, but I won't tolerate you injuring my staff or damaging my facilities.
She fell silent, furious and a little intimidated by the Master's composure. She sensed no sadism in his voice, only an unshakable conviction, as if everything had been calculated. She finally nodded without a word, pressing her lips in frustration.
— Excellent. — The Master let go of her arm. — Go back to your duties, and try not to cause any more incidents. It'll be better for everyone.
With that, he walked down the corridor, leaving Veronika in a state of contained rage. Her hands trembled with impotent anger.
Before heading to his office, the Master turned to his secretary and spoke in a low voice:
— Record that there will be no sanctions this time. And prepare an updated summary of the buyers and the contingency documents. I'll review it one of these days.
— Yes, sir — she replied, bowing slightly with the folder against her chest.