Victoria had just begun to settle into the uncomfortable rhythm of waiting when she saw her again.
One of the three maids.
She walked toward her with purpose this time, her steps quick, expression already laced with irritation.
The maid then stopped right in front of her, her brows furrowed. "Ma'am, what are you still doing here?"
Victoria blinked, caught off guard. "I… Y- You told me to wait—"
"You're already thirty minutes late," she cut in sharply.
Her confusion deepened. "Late? I didn't know, you told me to—"
"Just come," the maid snapped, grabbing her wrist before she could finish. "You're already behind schedule."
The sudden contact made her flinch slightly, but she didn't resist. She let herself be pulled up, her feet moving quickly to keep up as they led her deeper into the spa.
Her heart began to beat a little faster.
Something about this didn't feel right.
When they arrived at another section, the atmosphere shifted. The air smelled softer here, calmer, with warm lighting and neatly arranged stations that looked far more private than the open space outside.
The other two maids were already there.
The moment they saw her, one of them clicked her tongue.
"Ma'am, where have you been?" one said, folding her arms. "Your appointment was for nine o'clock. It's already nine thirty-four."
"And Mrs. Valerie does not like being kept waiting," the other added.
Victoria stood there, trying to catch up, her gaze moving between them.
"I… I was sitting where you told me to," she said quietly.
The words felt small even as they left her mouth.
She wanted to explain.
She wanted to say more.
But something held her back.
Because they knew that.
They were the ones who left her there without any further instructions.
Before she could gather the courage to speak again, a door behind them opened.
The sound alone was enough to shift the atmosphere.
All three maids straightened almost immediately.
A woman stepped out.
She was older, her face lined with age but carried with elegance rather than weakness. Everything about her, from the way she held her shoulders to the way her eyes scanned the room, spoke of experience, authority, and a kind of refined sharpness that didn't need to raise its voice to be felt.
She was dressed impeccably, her outfit tailored to perfection, her presence commanding without effort.
"Mrs. Solberg?" she called, her voice smooth.
Victoria instinctively stepped forward. "Yes—"
"Where have you been?" the woman asked, not harsh, but not entirely pleased either.
Victoria opened her mouth to speak, but—
"She forgot, ma'am," one of the maids cut in quickly. "It's her first time here, she wasn't sure what to do and it took some time to find her."
Victoria's lips parted, then slowly closed.
The woman studied her for a moment, then lifted a hand lightly.
"It's alright, dear," she said, her tone softening. "First times can be overwhelming."
She stepped closer, taking Victoria's hand gently, her touch warm. "My name is Valerie. You may call me Val."
Victoria nodded faintly. "Nice to meet you, ma'am… I'm sorry for being late."
Valerie smiled, faint but graceful. "You are the wife of Mr. Solberg. That alone grants you some forgiveness." She paused. "Though I do not enjoy being kept waiting."
"I- I understand…" Victoria said quietly.
"Good."
Valerie turned slightly, already moving on. "Let's not waste more time."
She gestured to one of the younger staff members. "Take her measurements. The tailor will need accurate records. Then prepare her for body treatment afterward."
The younger woman nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am."
Valerie glanced back at Victoria. "I'll return shortly. You're in good hands."
And then she walked off, her presence fading but not entirely gone.
The junior staff stepped forward with a measuring tape, offering a polite smile that felt far more genuine than the ones Victoria had received so far.
"Please stand still, ma'am."
Victoria nodded, lifting her arms slightly as instructed.
The tape moved around her shoulders, her waist, her hips, quick and efficient, her numbers being recorded quietly.
For a moment, everything felt almost normal.
Until the staff spoke again.
"Would you like me to record your name as Mrs. Solberg," the staff asked gently, "or your first name?"
Victoria hesitated.
The question lingered longer than it should have.
Mrs. Solberg.
It still didn't feel real.
Before she could answer—
"She prefers Victoria," one of the maids said quickly.
Victoria's head snapped slightly in their direction.
The staff looked at her again. "Is that correct, ma'am?"
Victoria paused.
Who was she, really, to insist on a name that didn't feel like hers yet?
"…V- Victoria is fine," she said softly.
The staff nodded and continued writing.
Not long after, Valerie returned, glancing briefly at the notes before setting them aside.
"Good," she said. "Now, come."
This time, she took Victoria's hand herself, leading her away from the area, away from the others, toward a more private section of the spa.
The doors closed softly behind them.
And for the first time since arriving, Victoria felt safe.
Less eyes were watching. Less weight of expectations.
But as she walked beside Valerie, her ears caught it the faint giggles behind them.
Low, careless titter between the maids like they weren't even trying to hide it anymore.
Victoria didn't turn back.
She just kept walking forward, her fingers tightening slightly in Valerie's grasp as she tried to maintain a neutral expression.
But somewhere underneath—Something small had already begun to harden.
• • •
Meanwhile…
The office was silent except for the faint sound of papers shifting and the occasional scratch of a pen.
Martin sat behind his desk, his focus fixed on the documents before him, his expression unreadable as always. The room itself carried the same old cold aesthetics as its owner, everything in place with nothing unnecessary.
A knock came.
"Enter."
The door opened, and Gray stepped in, composed as usual. He walked forward and stopped at a respectful distance, giving a slight bow.
"Sir. Madam left for the spa moments ago."
"Good."
Martin didn't look up. His pen continued moving across the page as if the conversation had already ended.
Gray remained standing.
It didn't take long for Martin to notice.
His pen paused mid-stroke before he finally lifted his gaze, eyes settling on Gray with quiet impatience.
"What is it?"
Gray straightened slightly. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
Martin leaned back, his expression flattening with mild disinterest. "You have two sentences. Use them."
Gray exhaled once. "Thank you, sir."
"That's one."
Gray cleared his throat. "The attire Madam wore to the spa this morning—"
Martin's brow lifted faintly. "What about it? Was she nude?"
Gray's composure cracked for a split second. "Heavens no, sir."
"Then what is the problem?" His tone sharpened slightly, already losing patience. "Be precise."
Gray hesitated, then answered, "It was… somewhat basic."
Silence followed.
Martin's gaze held on him for a moment longer, unreadable.
"Was it her maids that dressed her?" he asked.
"I believe so, sir."
Another pause.
Then Martin gave a small nod, already done with it. "Very well."
He returned to his work immediately, pen moving again as if nothing of importance had been said.
Gray stood there for a brief second longer, something almost like pity crossing his face, but he said nothing further. He had already crossed the line of speaking more than necessary.
So he bowed.
And left.
The door closed softly behind him.
The room fell quiet again.
For a moment, Martin continued writing — Then his pen stopped.
Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze lowering to the paper before him, though he wasn't reading it anymore.
Martin frowned.