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“Well, he wasn’t always like that,” the plump woman says as she hands one more plate to another departing servant and takes a seat to feed herself.
“I told her that,” Gloria says. “Shame seeing what he’s turned into now. But shhh, if Lucian ever heard me, he’d have something to say about it. And well, if the boss ever heard anything, well…”
“We could all lose our jobs,” the other woman says.
“Aye. But it’s a shame though. Isn’t it?” the plump woman asks me.
I lift my head swiftly from my plate and try to swallow the food in one gulp, unsuccessfully. I’m not sure if this is a test, so I reach for my water instead.
When I don’t answer, she lowers her voice. “My aunt used to work for him when he was a boy. Although, he doesn’t know all that. He wouldn’t have hired me if he did. That’s why, when I came here for the job, I pretended I didn’t know a thing about him. Like my aunt didn’t share stories with me.” She grins. “He was a sweet little boy too. So full of life. Mischievous.”
Ah, mischievous. Him? No. I’d have never guessed. Such a surprise. What new and exciting information! Of course, not.
“Yeah, my mother worked for him too,” the other woman whispers. “Listen, it’s difficult to find unrelated servants since we all kind of grow up within the same position. But he doesn’t need to know that.” She snickers, fanning at me before biting into the slice of pig meat between her fingers. “Heard he used to get in trouble a lot for jumping from tables and interrupting adult conversations, but my mother didn’t have to deal with him directly, so she found it amusing.”
The plump woman chuckles, and her round belly shakes. “Ah, poor Adam,” she says.
I stop chewing. Okay, now I’m lost. “Adam?” I ask. “Who’s that?”
Gloria and the two women laugh. “Why, the boss, of course?” she says.
“You didn’t know his name? Adam Molotov, of the Molotov family?” the plump woman asks.
The Molotov family. The name is familiar. I think they’re a big deal. Well, that explains this expensive mansion and everything in it.
Adam.
Somehow, hearing his name humanizes him to me. Even if he is a monster. I can imagine him as a little blond boy of means, playing pall mall in a luxurious garden, or even jumping off tables as they said, giggling and getting into innocent trouble. A boy, quite like Mark, if Mark had wealth and wasn’t subjected to this hell along with the rest of us.
“Well, it’s not like he goes around shouting his name from the rooftops, does he?” the woman with the missing teeth says.
“Aye, yes. That poor kid went through a lot. Although, he never let it stop him from being sweet until that Agatha, woman,” the plump woman says. “After that, he wanted nothing to do with the name or that life.”
Yeah, right. He didn’t detach himself from the money though, did he? He seems quite comfortable with that. I guess, for a man like him, who has had everything handed to him, he’d die quite quickly if he had to live without it. His fragility is ironic since he’s the one lording fickle power over us.
“I mean, how could she cheat on him,” Toothless says. “Back in my day, if I had a man like him, I wouldn’t need any other.” She grins.
“Be careful, you don’t want Clifford to hear you,” the plump woman says.
“You’re right. He might knock the rest of my teeth out.” She laughs aloud.
I turn to look at her. “He hits you?” I ask.
“Well, of course, dear. Don’t look so shocked,” she says as if I’m the odd one. “All men lose their temper every now and then.”
I growl. An actual guttural, unladylike sound leaves my body.
“This one’s a bit sensitive,” Gloria whispers behind her hand, and I roll my eyes.
“It makes me angry that men have all this power, and they abuse it. That’s all. I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say to the woman with the missing teeth.
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She waves flippantly.
It’s horrifying, but I also get it. These are the cards we’ve been dealt. It’s the way women in relationships have learned to cope with their circumstances. It’s not like we have a voice or many choices. I think it’s why I’ve remained a virgin and unmarried for ‘so long’ and why I escape into books. Especially books by female authors who write empowering female characters. Because it’s like a fantasy. It’s so far from our reality, but it’s the kind of world I’d like to live in, where women have the same rights men do. And they won’t be turned away when reporting their abuse to the authorities.
I wish women were allowed to train in defence sports. I wish I were stronger, then I would’ve cupped the beast by the sacs and broughthimtohisknees instead. I’d become the one he feared so he could get a taste of what it feels like. I wouldn’t only defend myself, but my father and that boy, Mark.
And I wouldn’t wake up touching myself to the thoughts of Adam Molotov dominating me. Or I still would. I don’t hate his dominance. I just hate that he’s a living demon, devoid of love or compassion and filled to the brim in hate.
