The day had barely begun, and Nora found herself working silently, her thoughts still wrapped around the weight of the truth. Her movements were automatic, efficient. Her heart, however, was anything but still.
By mid-morning, she approached Shaw in the corridor. Without a word, she handed him the diary—followed by the DNA test results.
Shaw took them, his brows knitting together. "You actually did this?" he asked, his thick Polish accent laced with quiet astonishment.
She nodded silently.
He read the paper, then looked at her with softened eyes. "That means… I'm your brother," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "We're family."
Nora didn't flinch. "I have work to do," she replied coldly, brushing past him.
"Nora," Shaw called after her gently. "You don't have to do this anymore. How about you come with us? Come to Poland. You'd have peace there. Real family."
But she turned, her eyes sharp. "I have a family here. I'm not going anywhere."
And just like that, she stormed off, the weight of betrayal making her footsteps heavier than ever.
That evening, after finishing her duties, Nora returned to her room. As she stepped in, a sharp, familiar scent hit her.
Tobacco.
Zayan was leaning against the wall behind her door, smoking. He hadn't done that in a long time. She didn't even turn to look at him.
"What do you want, Master?" she asked, slipping off her shoes with calm precision.
"I… I just came to check on you," he muttered. "Are you okay?"
"It's late," she replied coldly. "You should go back to your room."
He moved toward her, slowly—but she instinctively stepped back. He stopped, respecting her distance, his heart visibly aching.
With a sigh, he turned to leave. Pausing in the hallway, he whispered to the walls more than to her, "I need to apologize… for the first time in my life."
The next morning, Catalina summoned everyone to the main hall.
Nora descended the stairs, only to freeze when she saw her—Nathaira.
The woman who nearly destroyed her spirit. She was standing smugly beside her mother, Dabria, a striking woman with dark skin and long, flowing hair split white and black like a blade through midnight.
Zayan's jaw clenched as he entered.
"I told you I don't want to see your face," he spat at Nathaira.
Dabria stepped forward, unfazed. "Zayan, my boy—my daughter is truly sorry for her behavior. It won't happen again. I promise you that."
Zayan's voice was ice. "Why is she here?"
"Well," Dabria said casually, "My family and I have business overseas. We'll be gone for two months. Nathaira will stay here."
"You're leaving her here?" Zayan asked, his tone dangerous.
"She has work here. And you know my business. I can't take her with me."
"I'm not a boy," he said coldly. "She stays—but in two months, she's gone. Out."
Dabria smiled. "Thank you."
That evening, Nora was leaving the hallway when she bumped into Nathaira.
"He's mine, you know?" Nathaira hissed, voice venomous.
Nora paused, slowly turning her head. Her expression was flat. "I don't f**king care," she snapped. "Just leave me alone. You want him? Take him. Jeez."
Then she walked away without looking back.
Days passed. Nora ignored Zayan completely.
If she saw him coming, she turned into another room. If she was scheduled to clean his quarters or serve him, she gave the task to someone else. Zayan noticed every time—and it burned.
Meanwhile, Nathaira made herself too comfortable, too close. Always hovering, always trying to touch him. It made Zayan sick, but he played along.
Until one night.
He was in his room when he heard her voice through the slightly open door—on the phone with her mother.
"Mother, he's not responding. He doesn't want to see me, talk to me. He only wants that stupid maid," Nathaira whined.
"Be patient, my dear," Dabria replied, her voice smooth and wicked. "Remember the plan. Get that maid out of the mansion. Tonight, Zayan will be yours. I sent the pills, haven't I?"
"Yes, ma," Nathaira answered.
"Good. Slip them into his drink. Once it's done, he'll be yours. And trust me, his mother will force the marriage."
Zayan stood still in the shadows, listening to every word.
The devil inside him smiled.
He now had a plan of his own.