4. Oliver

My fists clench at my sides as I watch the pretty, young maid move gracefully through the halls of the manor. She's everywhere all the time now, her presence infiltrating every corner of the home like an unwelcome guest.

Every step she takes echoes in my ears, a constant reminder of our father's absence and Fitz's determination to move forward as if nothing happened here.

I lean against the wall, hidden in the shadows, jaw tight with simmering resentment.

"Good morning, Mr. Oliver," Fitz's voice rings out, rousing me from my silent stalking.

"Fitz," I respond, bracing myself for the inevitable confrontation.

"I know you've been unhappy with the decision to hire new household staff, but it's been three years, Mr. Oliver. Miss Parker is a good fit for the job, and we need the extra help around the house. There will be more staff hired on soon, so you may as well get used to it."

As Fitz speaks, his words grate on my nerves, igniting a familiar fire of anger within me. How could he be so dismissive, so insensitive? Doesn"t he understand that her presence is a constant reminder of everything we"d lost? I clench my fists at my sides, struggling to contain the seething emotions churning within me.

Without a word, I storm off, the echo of Fitz"s voice fading behind me. I need to get away, to clear my head before the anger consumes me entirely. The feeling of betrayal lingers like a shadow over my head.

It's the fault of that little vixen. As I watch Evangeline glide through the halls, I can't shake the resentment bubbling in my core. Her presence is a stark reminder of what we've lost, dredging up memories of happier times that are tarnished by grief and regret. How dare she infiltrate this place, a sanctity steeped in our family's legacy?

Straightening my shoulders, I plot my first move. Catching the girl off-guard, I approach with a disarming smile as she dusts the bookshelves in the hall. "How are you doing today?" I ask, taking her hand in mine and bringing it to my lips for a gentle kiss.

"I'm… fine," she says, a blush on her face as she slowly takes her hand back. "Just working. Can I help you with anything, sir?"

"Fitz asked me to tell you that he requires your assistance in the wine cellar," I tell her. "I'm not sure what he needs, but he said it was urgent."

"Oh. Thank you," she says. Her gaze lingers on mine for a long moment before she takes off, leaving her duster behind. I wait until she's rounded the corner before smirking and strolling off with my hands in my pockets.

A half-hour later, I hear Fitz berating the girl on the landing as I pass by on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Why would you ever go into the wine cellar?" Fitz demands, tone harsh. Evangeline catches my eye, and I give her a sympathetic look.

"Mr. Oliver told me you wanted me there," she says, pointing at me. Fitz looks up, and I shrug.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," I say, enjoying the crestfallen look on her face. "She's mistaken, Fitz. I was merely saying hello and then suddenly, she said she needed to go somewhere." My wide-eyed expression is enough for Fitz, and he turns back on Evangeline, haranguing her for lying.

Once I'm in the kitchen, I lean against the island, snickering to myself at the expression on her face. She's in for a treat if she thinks she can get away with flaunting herself all over the place like she belongs here.

It isn't long before Evangeline finds me in the kitchen, approaching me with trepidation. "Why did you lie to Fitz?" she asks, wringing her hands.

"Excuse me?" I ask. "I would never lie to Fitz. You're the one who said you needed to leave, remember?"

"I'm sorry," she begs. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

My heart races, realizing I've got her just where I want her.

I fix her with a cold gaze. "You have some errands to run for me. First, head to the Blue Monkey on Simmons. Get me a large misto with hazelnut, almond milk, and two blonde shots, ristretto. Make sure they add the hazelnut first." I watch her scramble to jot down the details on her phone.

"After that, swing by the dry cleaners on Fifth to grab my order. Drop off the pants in my closet. Then, polish my shoes, reorganize my ties, and give my bathroom a thorough cleaning."

"She glances up at me, eyes wide with trepidation. "Anything else?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," I say, lips curling into a grin. "Now that I think about it, I also need you to go to Macy's and have my personal shopper pick out some new silk shirts for me, about ten. And I need you to go to the docks and pick up a shipment for me from Frank. Tell him Oliver Everhart sent you."

"And doing this will help?" Evangeline asks, biting her lower lip as she gazes up at me with those big, blue eyes.

"We'll see," I tell her. "For now, just get this done."

A smirk lingers on my lips as she leaves, but it falls, a gnawing sense of unease replacing it. Why do I have such a primal urge to assert dominance over this girl? She's just a maid, nothing to be concerned about, and yet it feels as though this is the one thing I could control in a world spiraling out of my grasp. I push aside the conflicting thoughts and focus on finishing my work for Declan.

Once she returns with my coffee, I employ the third part of my plan. As soon as I take a sip, I spit it out, making a disgusted face. "What the hell is this?"

"It's your coffee order, sir," Evangeline says, anxiety in her expression. "I gave them the exact order you told me. Look." She shows me her phone.

"This has two shots of hazelnut, you stupid girl! I asked for three. You wrote it down wrong."

"But…"

"No excuses. Get me another one. And better make it right this time. We wouldn't want to have to fire you for incompetence, would we?" I tell her. She scrambles backward, eyes downcast.

"No sir," she says, shaking her head. "I'll bring you another cup, and your dry cleaning."

"Then get going," I say, pointing.

She spends the rest of the day like that, running from errand to errand for me while I find every excuse to ensure that she knows she's not performing to my standards. Women like Evangeline need to be broken down like horses, according to our father. Defiance will stay in their eyes until you squash it, and I can still see her determination.

It irritates me, getting under my skin. The more I order her around, the more determined she seems to be to prove me wrong.

I know she's just a maid, but girls like her don't belong in places like this. She clearly lacks the grace and breeding to serve in a place like Shadowvale Manor.

As she approaches me with a stack of papers that I ordered her to fetch, I frown. It's starting to get late and I still haven't broken her yet.

"I need you to thoroughly clean all the outdoor patio furniture, spraying them down and sanitizing them. We're having a few guests around tomorrow and they need to be sparkling. After that, you need to prepare a luncheon for the guests, and then I need you to polish all the silverware."

"I'm supposed to be off-duty by seven," Evangeline points out. "I couldn't possibly get all that done by then."

"Looks like you'll have to stay up, then," I say, crossing my arms. "It's vital for this to be done before tomorrow."

"Can't I wake up early to complete it?" she asks, a whine in her voice. The sound grates on me, and I lean forward, eyes flashing dangerously.

"No, get it all done. Now!" I bark, snapping my fingers.

Evangeline looks at me with a mix of despair and frustration, tears in her eyes. As her frustrations begin to boil over, a pang of guilt rises. The darker side of my psyche is satisfied seeing the cracks begin to form, but another part of me, some deep part, is wondering if this is what I genuinely want.

Before I can speak, Evangeline clenches her hands into fists and whirls around, stalking off as she mutters something under her breath.

Hours later, I approach her where she's scrubbing grime off the wrought iron chairs in the garden in the dark.

"Pathetic," I sneer, surveying the flooded patio. "Is this the best you can manage?"

Her eyes flash with defiance. "I'm done playing your games," she declares, tossing the rag aside. "I don't know what sick satisfaction you get from tormenting me, but I won't stand for it. I'm not just your servant, Oliver. I'm a human being!"

She knocks a large, heavy sculpture off the table, which shatters on impact with the concrete. Her shoulders are shaking in anger as she confronts me.

"Miss Parker!" Fitz bellows, stepping onto the patio. "What is the meaning of all this?"

Her eyes widen and she steps back, a hand to her mouth.

"How dare you speak to Mr. Oliver that way?" Fitz says, suddenly icy calm. He steps toward her, forcing her to back up. "You are indeed his servant, and you are to do whatever it is he asks. Apologize to Mr. Oliver at once, or I shall dismiss you and your things will be tossed out."

"No, please," Evangeline says with a small sob. "I'm sorry. I need this job. I can't go back home. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to Mr. Oliver," Fitz says, a cold look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir," she says, turning to face me. She sniffles, and I hide my smirk, enjoying seeing her being put in her place.

"You need to clean this mess up tonight," I tell her. "Fix it all before the morning or you'll be dismissed."

She casts a look at Fitz, who shakes his head in disappointment, then sinks to her knees to begin gathering up the broken sculpture pieces.

I hope she's learned her lesson now.