Naela Beaumont's life was a silent testament to endurance amidst relentless cruelty. From the moment she was adopted into the opulent Beaumont household, her existence had been marrade by a ceaseless torrent of abuse. Claudia her stepmother, wielded her authority like weapon, assigning Naela the most grueling of chores from dawn until dusk. Scrubbing floors until her hands bled, laundering heavy lines that left her exhausted, and maintaining the vast gardens under the scorching sun were just the beginning. The family's mansion gleamed, a deceptive façade of perfection built on Naela's labour. Each morning, she was awakened before sunrise by Claudia's sharp voice, barking orders that left no room for rest. The physical toil was compounded by constant verbal abuse, striping Naela of any semblance of self worth.
Meals were another instrument of torment. While Claudia and her spoiled biological daughter, Isabella, dined sumptuous feasts, Naela was relegated for eating their leftovers, cold often half eaten scraps that were barely enough to sustain her. The table was a stark tableau of her inferiority:polished silver and porcelain for the family,chipped plates and mismatched utensils for her.
Isabella took perverse pleasure in mocking Naela's plight, ensuring she never forgets her place. " Is that all you can do, you useless girl?" Claudia spat one evening, her voice dripping with venom. "You can't even clean properly! Look at these floors they're still filthy!"
"I'm sorry, I'll do better," Naela whispered, her eyes fixed on the ground, her body trembling.
"Sorry doesn't cut it," Claudia snapped, her hand striking Naela's cheek with a resounding slap." Your nothing but a burden. Sometimes I wish we'd never taken you in."
Naela bit back her tears, her mind a whirl of pain and hopelessness. In the solitude of her small attic room, she allowed herself to think the unthinkable. She wished she could run away, escape the relentless torment that defined her life. But fear paralyzed her. She had no idea where she would go or how she would survive on her own. The world outside seemed as cruel and unwelcoming as the one she was trapped in. Yet, within her, a quiet resilience burned, a hope for a life beyond her gilded prison.
As she gazed into the cracked mirror on the wall,she saw a reflection of starling beauty. Her dark,flowing hair framed a delicate face with high cheekbones and deep, expressive eyes that spoke of both sorrow and untapped strength. Her skin, smooth and golden, seemed to glow even in the dim light of her attic sanctuary. But this beauty had become a burden, a reminder of the life she once knew and the contrast to her current despair.
A flashback pulled her into a memory, a happier time when her adoptive father still lived. She could hear his kind voice, see his gentle eyes filled with pride and love. "Naela," he would say lifting her onto his knee, " you are the smartest girl I know. With you good behavior and honest, hardworking character, you will be successful in anything you choose to do." He used to tell her stories of faraway places and wonderful adventures, always ending with a reminder of the importance of integrity and perseverance.
One particular conversation stood out in her mind, as clear as if it had happened yesterday. They were sitting in the garden, the scent of blooming flowers filling the air. Her father looked at her with seriousness that made her heart skip a beat. "Naela, there is something I need to tell you," he began." I have set aside a hidden inheritance for you. It's a safety net in case anything ever happens to me. I want you to know that no matter what, you will have the means to take care of yourself." She remembered the way he had squeezed her hand, the warmth of his promise giving her a sense of security she now desperately missed.
Her adoptive father tragically passed away not long after that conversation, leaving Naela at the mercy of Claudia and Isabella. His death had been sudden and shrouded in mystery, a car accident that didn't quite add up in Naela's mind. With him gone, the mansion became a prison where cruelty thrived, and any hope of rescue dimmed.
But her father's words never left her. "A hidden inheritance… a safety net," he'd said. The thought had kept her alive on the darkest days. Late one night, after Isabella and Claudia retired to their luxurious bedrooms, Naela made up her mind. She couldn't endure this life any longer. Her father's promise was the only clue she had to a better future. She had to find it whatever "it" was.
The house was silent as she tiptoed downstairs, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the door to her father's old study, a room that Claudia had ordered locked after his death. But Naela had been resourceful. A month ago, while cleaning the mansion, she'd found the key hidden in Claudia's jewelry box.
Pushing the door open, she inhaled deeply. The scent of polished wood and aged paper hit her, a stark contrast to the coldness of the rest of the house. This room had been her father's sanctuary, and now, it felt like hers. She scanned the room, her eyes falling on the large fireplace. Kneeling by the hearth, she sifted through the cold ashes with trembling hands. Her fingers brushed against something hard, and she pulled out a small metal box, soot-streaked but intact. Naela's breath hitched. This had to be it. Her heart raced as she opened the box, revealing a folded piece of parchment, a key, and a single gold coin embossed with a crest she didn't recognize. She unfolded the parchment, her eyes scanning the neat handwriting.
"To my beloved Naela,
If you are reading this, I am no longer with you. This key will unlock a safe deposit box at Barrington Bank. Inside, you will find the means to free yourself and start anew. Trust no one but yourself, my darling girl. You are stronger than you know." Tears blurred her vision as she clutched the note to her chest. Her father had believed in her, even in his absence. But before she could revel in the discovery, a voice startled her.
"Well, well. Sneaking around, are we?"
Naela whipped around to see Isabella standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a smug grin on her face.
"What are you doing here?" Naela asked, quickly hiding the box behind her back.
"I could ask you the same thing," Isabella replied, stepping closer. Her sharp eyes landed on Naela's soot-streaked hands. "But I already know. You found something, didn't you?"
"It's none of your business," Naela snapped, her usual meekness replaced by a surge of defiance.
Isabella's grin widened. "Relax, dear sister. I don't care about whatever you found. In fact, I came to ask for your help."
Naela frowned. "Why would you need my help?"
"There's a man at the downtown bar," Isabella said, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. "He's been threatening me. I… I don't know who else to turn to."
Naela's instincts screamed that something was wrong. Isabella had never asked her for help before, and the timing was too coincidental. But her stepsister's expression looked genuinely distressed, and despite everything, Naela couldn't ignore someone in need.
"Fine," she said cautiously. "Let me clean up first."
"No time," Isabella insisted, grabbing her arm. "We need to leave now."