Chapter I

It is not so difficult, being a servant and waiting on someone hand and foot.

That, of course, is a lie, one of many I would later tell. It is tedious, tiring, degrading, and hardly worth it. Especially if you're waiting on her, a vile and odious girl who thinks herself leagues ahead of those around her both in cunning and wealth. It would not be much of an exaggeration to say that she believes herself to be fit to run the world. With a beauty like a shining light that could blind a hundred men and delicate yet piercing eyes that could turn a king to stone, everyone in her circle of peers knows to fear her despite her age. And with her circle of peers being powerful old millionaires, this is truly a feat. Hair as golden as the sun and the figure of a model, a posture and air of confidence that could strike down a god. I hate her. With everything in my body capable, I hate her. Her name, a beautiful, gracious name that rolls off of your tongue like poison and is just as dreaded:

Rose Lalonde.

The first time I heard it I was just a young girl. My mother, a kind and hospitable woman who had raised me after I had been ungraciously dumped on her doorstep, would talk about her frequently, going on about how well we would get along one day. But as highly as she spoke of her, I always knew deep within me that it was that girl who wore her down so badly every day. She had been a maid for the Lalonde family for most of her life and was fairly well off for it in terms of money. As much as a single mother working as a servant could be, at least. I was ten when things started to go downhill for the Lalonde Corporation, and my mother was one of few staff not laid off. Her pay was severely reduced, her years of service the only thing keeping her from losing her job. She was old and sick as it was, so we were lucky Ms. Roxy Lalonde (Rose's mother, and owner of the company) was as generous and warm as she had been. For three years the two of us lived in poverty, almost losing our house and living primarily off of leftovers brought home from the Lalondes' meals. My mother would have tried to find a new job had she been younger and more spry.

Then, miraculously, three years ago the company made a whopping comeback. No one is quite sure why or how, not even Ms. Lalonde, but my mother never quite seemed to care much so neither did I. But of course, if things had gone as happily as they should have from there on out, I probably would not have as interesting of a story to tell. My mother passed quietly in her sleep one night, and with me being too young to get a job that pays well enough to sustain myself, I was without home and any relatives to support me.

Thankfully, I had not been exaggerating in saying that Ms. Lalonde was a kind and loving person. She offered me a job working as a maid in her mansion in exchange for food, shelter, clothing, and anything else I might need to go about my life. If I had known what was in store for me then, I might have said no. But I had no other real option, and was much more of optimist then, so I accepted gratefully. She didn't have any need for more staff, so I was to be presented to her daughter as a gift. She hadn't meant to make me sound like an object when explaining it to her, like a piece of property, but as I stood in front of the serpent-girl in the ridiculously stereotypical maid dress and bowed deeply, I knew one thing for certain from the devious look in her eyes and the way she smiled at my obedience. From that moment forwards, I was hers.