Rise of the stolen heir

1

"How dare you burn my dress?" Ellen thundered, her voice like a crack of lightning. She snatched the green dress from Mason's hand, her nails scratching against his skin.

Ellen was the daughter of Mr. Russell, Mason's boss, and she had continued to torture Mason, making life miserable for him. 

"I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, and—" Mason's words were cut short by the sting of Ellen's palm connecting with his face. Mason's head jerked to the side, his cheek burning from the impact.

He raised his hand to nurse his cheek, his eyes watering from the pain as sweat glided down his back.

Ellen's eyes blazed with fury, her amber irises flashing like hot coals as she threw the dress at his face. The dress fluttered down, but he caught it before it touched the floor.

"What bloody mistake?!" she fumed, her face reddening with rage. "Answer me!" She demanded, her voice dripping with venom. “Were you blind when you were straightening my dress?!” 

Mason gulped, his throat constricting with fear. He raised his head, his eyes with hers, and dread twisted his gut.

"How dare you look me in the eye?!" She spat, her hand flying up to strike him again. 

Mason's eyes blurred as Ellen's palm connected with his face once more, and a ringing sound filled his ears. He stumbled back, his heart racing with fear.

“Oh, goodness. When would this torture stop?” Mason asked in his head. 

The other house helps scurry past them, their eyes averted in fear of Ellen's wrath, not daring to interfere in her affairs. Her bodyguards stood at the end of the hallway, their eyes fixed on Mason with a cold, calculating gaze, waiting for her order to pounce on him.

"That is a designer dress worth thousands of dollars," Ellen hissed, her voice low and menacing. "Now what would I wear to Chanel's birthday dinner, you bastard?!" She exclaimed, her voice like a whistle as she twisted her face in a snarl.

Mason flinched, taking a step back with his heart in his throat. Ellen had handed him her dress just minutes ago to get it ironed, but he had been working so hard all morning and was too exhausted to notice the iron's heat setting, accidentally burning her dress.

"Just wait till Mother and Father get back, I'll make sure you get punished for this!" Ellen snapped, spinning on the balls of her feet, causing her blond hair to swing in the air and bounce with each angry step she took.

Mason's joints ached as he turned to leave, determined to complete the other tasks his boss, Mr. Russell, and his wife had assigned to him. 

Mason's mother, the Russells' former housekeeper, had passed away when he was just nine years old, leaving him and his sister behind. Mr. Russell had taken Mason in, but his kindness had slowly turned to exploitation, using Mason for hard labor in the house with barely enough time to eat.

“Mason!” Ellen exclaimed from her room, and Mason halted in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder. What have I done again? He thought to himself, eyeing the long hallway.

“Do not make me call you again before you get here!” Ellen yelled, and Mason let out a sigh of frustration. He trudged down the hall, his heart thumping. His stomach churned with fear when he reached her door.

Pushing it open, Mason's eyes landed on Ellen, sitting in front of her mirror. “You called for me, miss,” he said, and she met his gaze through the mirror. Mason instantly lowered his eyes, not risking another slap.

“Get in and shut the door,” Ellen ordered. Mason strode into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Get over here,” she said with a voice that dripped with venom. “Now,” she added.

Hesitantly, he dragged his feet towards her, confusion swirling around his head as he stopped behind her. 

“Unzip my dress,” Ellen instructed, shoving her hair from her back. Mason blinked rapidly, trying to digest what she had just said.

“Excuse me, I didn't get that.” Mason stiffened, and a lump grew in his throat.

Ellen grunted, seeming impatient as she arched her back, showing Mason the zip of her peach dress. “You heard me, you deaf idiot,” she snapped. “Unzip my dress, and be snappy about it.”

Mason gulped down the stubborn lump, his hand shaking as he stretched to unzip her dress. He dragged the zipper down, his movements hesitant.

Once he was done, Ellen spun to face him, peeling off the dress from her upper body. Mason's heart skipped a beat as his eyes involuntarily drifted to her full bosom.

“My goodness!” Mason gasped, placing a hand over his eyes with a racing pulse. 

“Do you think I'm sexy?” Ellen asked, but Mason stepped back, using his free hand to tap behind him in search of the door.

“Please, cover up. I'm not meant to see your nudity,” Mason spoke with a shaky voice.

“Nonsense, I order you to take your hand down,” Ellen said in a clipped tone.

Mason refused, shaking his head. “Now!” Ellen yelled.

Mason flinched, letting his hand fall beside him. Ellen grinned, and mischief glinted in her eyes as she rose to her feet. The dress fell to the ground, pooling around her ankles.

“Do you like what you see?” Ellen drawled, stepping out of her dress and sensually walking up to Mason. She locked the door, and Mason's insides gnawed with anxiety.

She walked towards him again, and Mason moved back until his back was pressed against the wall, his heart pounding against his chest.

Ellen reached a hand to stroke Mason's chest, and his skin crawled with disgust, flooding him with revulsion.

“I never knew you'd grow to be so handsome. I used to think you were a wretched pauper, but now you're so handsome and sexy,” she lulled, biting her bottom lip and pinching his nipple. “Touch me,” She picked up his hand and placed his large palm over her bosom. 

Mason's stomach flipped. Immediately, he maneuvered his way around Ellen.

"I can't do this. You're my boss' daughter," Mason protested.

"Oh, shut up," Ellen spat, striding towards him and wrapping her arms around him.

"Stop this," Mason said, gently pushing her away from his body.

Ellen glared at him, her eyes brimming with fire as she pressed her lips into a firm line and furrowed her forehead.

"You will regret this," she hissed through gritted teeth, picking up her dress and ripping it apart.

"No one rejects me," she snarled, raking her fingers through her hair and disheveling it.

"What are you doing?" Mason asked, confusion intertwined in his voice.

Ellen's actions escalated, her anger and humiliation boiling over.

“Help!” She screamed, purposely falling to the ground. “Guards, help me. Rape!”

“Miss,” Mason started, his chest rising and falling as his eyes widened in realization and fear. She was going to accuse him falsely and have him jailed. “Please, stop."

“Help!!!” she yelled, her voice echoing through the room. To Mason, she was the devil's incarnate.

With fidgeting hands, Mason unlocked the door and dashed out of the room, knowing he would be as good as dead if he didn't run away.

"Hey! Stop there!" The voices behind him sent a shiver down his spine. Mason didn't need to turn around to know that her bodyguards were after him.

“Get him, he beat me up!” She screamed. 

Mason quickened his pace, his heart pounding violently against the walls of his chest, as sweat dripped down his back, making his shirt cling to his skin like a damp shroud. He raced out of the house, unaware of where he was running to.

"Mason!" Charlie, the head of the bodyguards, exclaimed, his hoarse voice cutting through the morning air and filling Mason's heart with dread.

Mason glanced over his shoulder, and a spark of hope ignited within him as he saw he had put some distance between them. But just as he returned his gaze to the front, his face collided with a broad chest, and he stumbled backward, summoning his last shred of energy.

He lifted his head, and his eyes met the wicked brown orbs of Walter, Charlie's second in command, who towered over him. 

Walter's eyes danced in silent laughter, and his voice dripped with venom as he spoke, "What do we have here? Mason, the runaway.”