UNWANTED DEVOTION

READY

"If you're uncomfortable with themes of heavy angst and dark, toxic relationships, I kindly suggest you exit without leaving any negative comments about the story. Thank you for understanding 🤍" Also first read the whole story and then judge 🤗

Content Warnings

This book contains:

Dark themes

violence

A lot of drama

Lots of suspense

and Some manipulative characters

However, as per my policy, there is no rape.

Crystal's POV

Knock knock...

The sound of the door echoed in the dim hallway. I quickly turned to Mrs. Blackwell, who stood at the door, her sharp eyes looking me up and down. Her cold expression made my heart race. Without saying anything, she stepped outside, expecting me to follow her like always, and I did.

The morning air was crisp and cold, sending shivers down my spine as I stepped into the chill of the early hour. It was only five in the morning, and maybe the world was still asleep, except for me and, of course, Mrs. Blackwell.

We entered the kitchen, the heart of the mansion, filled with the smells of old wood and spices. She walked away, and I nodded to her as she settled into a chair, her posture regal and imposing. The six maids working in the kitchen paused to glance at me, their faces a mix of curiosity and pity before they returned to their tasks.

"All out," Mrs. Blackwell ordered, her voice cold and commanding. The maids bowed their heads and left the room, leaving just the two of us alone.

I took a deep breath and glanced at Mrs. Blackwell, accepting her silent command to start working.

My heart raced as I reached for a pan, my fingers trembling slightly as I gathered the ingredients—vegetables, spices, and oil . i started with washing the vegetables , the cold water splashed against my hands sending shivers yet contrasting with the small warmth that still clung to my body from the night before.

With the stove lit, I poured oil into the pan, and the satisfying sizzle filled the air as I added the vegetables. I kept my head down, avoiding Mrs. Blackwell's piercing gaze, which I felt boring into my back. I could sense her watching me, making sure I did everything right.

When the food was finally ready, I turned to face her. "It's done," I said softly, my words barely above a whisper.

She hummed in acknowledgment, her approval as cold as the morning breeze. "Okay, now go to your room."

I bowed my head, grateful for the small mercy, and hurried out of the kitchen, eager to escape her presence.

Once I reached inside my room, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the blanket around me like a shield. The chill of the morning still lingered in my bones, and my cold, bare feet fumbled against each other, desperately seeking warmth. I closed my eyes, allowing the darkness to envelop me as I drifted back to sleep.

Hours later, I woke up to the sound of water running. The warmth of the sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft patterns on the floor. With a groan, I stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the traces of my fever and leftover sleep.

After my shower, I dressed in a simple black top and loose white pants, tying my hair back in a braid. I made my way downstairs, taking a deep breath and preparing for whatever awaited me.

In the dining room, Mr. Blackwell sat with a newspaper in hand, his brow furrowed as he scanned the headlines. When he noticed me, he lowered the paper slightly, his sharp gaze assessing my appearance.