The Young Billlionaire's Vengeance

Chapter Four

“Get me another cup”, Ms. Wilde commanded the maid standing near her. The maid hurried out of the room and was soon back with another tea cup on a saucer. She placed it on the table in front of her madam, taking out the rejected one.

“Where's my husband?”, she asked as the maid poured liquid milk into the cup.

“He left for work early today ma'am”

“Without letting me know?” she asked, slowing down suddenly as she placed some cut fruits in a bowl.

“Ye..yes ma'am.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed her reply.

“Did he have breakfast?”, she asked, picking up the sugar tongs.

She stopped as if listening for a distant reply from the maid that was right next to her.

“No … no ma'am. He insisted on not …”

“What time was the breakfast set?”

The maid looked down and the room went dead silent again.

“What time?”

“ 5 …. 6.00 a.m ma'am”

“And my husband left by what time?”

“Four ma'am”

Mrs. Wilde dropped the sugar tongs on the saucer. The sound of the metal clashing with the ceramic dish echoed on the walls. Mrs. Wilde looked up.

“Where's the head of kitchen staff?”

“She's… she's…”

“Call her”

The maid scurried out of the dining room like a frightened mouse and was, in less than three minutes, back with Madam Doris.

“Signora”, the elderly woman greeted.

“Why wasn't the breakfast ready?”

“Signora?”

“Are you deaf?! Why didn't my husband have breakfast?”

“Signora… we had bre…breakfast ready by the time. It's.. it's just that the..the table wasn't … wasn't set”

“Who was supposed to set the table?”

“Alistair”, the maid said quickly. “Alistair Bane”

Silence enveloped them again as the Mama Doris and the other maid stood there, heads hung, too afraid to look up or even look at Mrs. Wilde.

“Where's my daughter?”

“She's…”

“Call her to join me for breakfast.”

“Yes ma'am”, the maid answered, taking it as an opportunity to leave the room.

“And her husband as well”

The sarcastic tone with which she added her last statement revealed too well that she did not mean good. But who could challenge her? No one dared challenge Mrs. Wilde.

Elara was still in bed when the maid came around, though she wasn't asleep. When she heard the knock on the door, she pretended to fall back asleep. 

When the knocks became too persistent, she got angry.

“What?! And who the hell is at my door?”

“It's Craver, your porter ma'am”

“What do you want?!”

“Your mother invites you to the table to join her for breakfast.

She faked a short groan even though internally, she needed someone to come drag her lazy butt out of bed to eat. She waited till she heard footsteps which indicated that the maid had left for downstairs.

Not even bothering to shower, she brushed her teeth and headed to her parents' wing of the house in her transparent nighties. On her way, she noticed that the maid was only just coming out of the house. The short, young girl passed into the house through the kitchen door.

“Hey Mum”, she said, going over to where Mrs. Wilde was seated. She kissed her and her mother couldn't help but notice the lingering smell of liquor on her.

“Morning dear. How did you sleep?”

“Woke a bit hazy but I did okay. I mean morning skin hasn't been any less radiant in days”, Elara said with a pride, setting down some croissants in her plate.

“Mum, did you still order those jewelries I asked…”

Her words were cut off by Alistair's sudden presence in the dining room. He walked in slowly, standing at the door with his head hung.

“What are you doing here?”, Elara asked, looking at him with the same disgusted look she had on at their court wedding.

“What do you mean by that, dear? He is part of the family now isn't he? Come sit”, she said to him and Alistair couldn't help but feel uneasy, clearly not convinced that he'd just heard the exact words that came out of Mrs. Wilde's mouth.

“You didn't go to the office today Alistair?”

“No ma'am.. I receive a mail saying I was on a day's leave for my honeymoon”

“Oh right”, Mrs. Wilde said slowly. “I almost forgot”

Elara scoffed, rolling her eyes as the maid spread jam on her croissants.

“Leave it”, she said in a sharp tone and the maid immediately dropped the knife on the plate.

“In fact get me another croissant! Urghh!”

“Now, now, no need to throw a tantrum dear”, Mrs. Wilde said, taking scrambled eggs off her plate with her fork. Another maid standing beside her brought in the kettle containing hot water for tea. She wanted to pour into the cup but Mrs. Wilde refused. She took the kettle from the maid.

“Hold the cup”, the maid did so, and she poured into her own cup.

“Dearie, let me have your cup”, she said to Elara, who with her eyes, instructed the maid to bring hers closer to her mum.

“Alistair?”

“No ma'am, I'll…..”

“It's tradition. It's not to be refused, Alistair”

Alistair brought his cup forward and held it for her to pour into. But Mrs. Wilde had her intentions clearly and she poured the hot water till it began to overflow on his hand instead.

“Arggh!”, Alistair shouted in pain, dropping the cup. It crashed against the saucer and broke, splashing also some of the hot water that got into the cup.

“Ugh!”, Mrs. Wilde screamed. “My face!”

Her shout sirened through the house and almost all the staff in the house rushed to her.

She fanned herself vigorously with her hands, pretended to be hurt when in the least, not a drop had gotten to her. The maids fussed over her, while Alistair found it hard to get through with the traffic they'd caused on the way so he could place cold water over his scourged hand.

The blister had already formed by the time he was at the sink. In anger, he burst it open, causing more pain to himself. Getting a bandage and some necessary medical ointment from the kitchen first aid, he bandaged the back of his palm where the hot water had scourged him.

Just then, he noticed Elara in the kitchen walking towards him.

“Next time, you keep your nose out of my business”, she said with an evil smirk, throwing her orange juice on him as she walked away.

Alistair gritted his teeth. What kind of Godforsaken family had he come into?

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