Amelia

No. I stood up from my bed, pacing faster now, my mind racing. I needed a plan. I needed to fix this.

I was still lost in spiraling thoughts when someone knocked on my door.

“Come in,” I called absently, expecting Mother.

“Miss?” One of the maids stepped inside—Sarah, I think, was her name. Young, timid, forgettable. And she’d walked into my room wearing her house shoes instead of going barefoot like I’d instructed all of them to do.

Something inside me snapped.

“How dare you come into my room with your filthy shoes?” My voice came out low and dangerous.

“Miss...” She immediately fell to her knees, her...