Chapter 14: What They Did To Her
Night
Before 4 PM, Keres arrived back at the Eisenthurn mansion. Her black limousine pulled up the long driveway, tires crunching softly on the gravel, and when she stepped out, the evening air greeted her with the scent of roses and freshly cut grass.
She walked through the grand entrance with her usual commanding presence, her footsteps echoing against the marble floors, but something made her pause just inside the foyer.
The servants were busy—more busy than usual. They moved through the living room with purpose, dusting and arranging and polishing, their hands never idle. Cushions were fluffed, vases were straightened, a faint lemony scent lingered in the air from the furniture polish.
The chandelier above had been cleaned until it sparkled, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the walls whenever the light caught it just right.
Keres watched them for a moment, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. Then she turned and walked toward the east wing.
~~~•••~~~
Meanwhile, in one of the mansion’s lavish guest suites, Faye and two maids were helping Asteria prepare for her bath. The room was warm and softly lit, with cream-colored walls and heavy velvet curtains that blocked out the fading daylight.
A large clawfoot tub sat in the corner of the bathroom, steam already rising from the water, fragrant with lavender oil and Epsom salts.
Faye smiled gently at Asteria, gesturing toward the bathroom. "Alright, my dear. The maids will help you undress and get settled in the bath. Just relax and let them take care of you."
But Asteria shook her head. She took a small step backward, her hands clutching the edges of her borrowed dress, her knuckles white. "I... I can do it myself," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The two maids exchanged a glance but said nothing. They had been trained well.
Faye’s brow furrowed slightly. "My dear, it’s okay. The maids don’t bite." She chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "They’ve seen everything. Nothing shocks them anymore, I promise."
Asteria shook her head again, more firmly this time. She couldn’t meet Faye’s eyes. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor, on the patterns in the rug, on anything that wasn’t the concerned faces of the women in front of her.
"Madam—" Asteria started.
"Ah—" Faye held up one finger, her expression turning mock-stern, though her eyes remained warm. "It’s Mama. Not Madam or Ma’am. Mama."
Asteria hesitated. The word felt strange on her tongue—too familiar, too intimate, too much like something she didn’t deserve to say. But Faye was looking at her with such patience, such expectation, that she found herself nodding slowly.
"M-Mama~" The word came out soft and hesitant, but it was accompanied by a small, tentative smile—the first real smile Asteria had given anyone in a very long time.
Faye’s heart swelled. She wanted to hug the girl again, to wrap her up in her arms and never let go. But she could see the tension in Asteria’s shoulders, the way she held herself like she was bracing for impact. So instead, Faye simply nodded and stepped back.
"Alright." Faye sighed softly, accepting Asteria’s refusal. "You can bathe yourself. But call us if you need anything. Anything at all." She pointed toward a plush white bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. "The bathrobe is over there. Take your time, dear."
Asteria nodded, her smile growing just a fraction wider. "Thank you, Mama."
Faye and the two maids exited the room, the door clicking shut behind them. Asteria stood alone in the quiet, listening to their footsteps fade down the hallway.
After the door closed, Asteria finally allowed herself to breathe.
She walked slowly toward the mirror above the vanity, her bare feet silent against the thick carpet. The reflection that stared back at her was almost unrecognizable—pale skin, dark circles under her eyes, hair that hung limp and lifeless around her shoulders.
But that wasn’t what made her stomach clench with dread.
The reason she didn’t want others to help her was simple, and it made her chest ache just thinking about it.
She didn’t want them to see.
She didn’t want them to see the shameful bruises that painted her ribs in shades of purple and yellow. She didn’t want them to see the scars—old and new, overlapping like a topographical map of her suffering.
She didn’t want them to see the whip lashes that crisscrossed her back, some still scabbed over, others still weeping faintly beneath the bandages she had applied herself.
She didn’t want them to see her entire battered body, the evidence of years of cruelty carved into her flesh like words into stone.
The long-sleeved dress Faye had given her really covered everything up. From the outside, she almost looked normal. Almost whole. Almost like someone who hadn’t been beaten and broken and discarded.
But the mirror never lied.
"Okay, Asteria." She whispered her own name like a prayer, like a command, like a lifeline. "Calm down. The water shouldn’t hurt."
She hadn’t been able to bathe properly for days. The infected wounds on her back and shoulders made even the gentlest touch feel like fire, and she had been surviving on quick wipe-downs with a damp cloth in the dark of her room, wincing with every pass.
But her body had done something strange over the years—something she didn’t fully understand.
Her body produced a different scent. Not a bad odor, not the sour smell of sweat and infection that she sometimes caught on other people.
Something else. Something fragrant, almost floral, like Lavender, Mint, or honeysuckle on a summer evening. It was faint but unmistakable, and she had learned to suppress it with cheap powders and stolen perfumes, layering artificial scents over her natural one until it was buried deep.
She did this to protect herself. She couldn’t afford for that incident to happen again. The memory of it made her hands tremble even now, years later, and she pushed it down before it could fully surface.
She snapped back to reality. She needed to wash herself. She couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever.
Asteria took a deep breath and began to undress. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of the borrowed dress, her movements slow and clumsy.
The dress pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of it carefully, folding it over the back of a chair. Then her undergarments, piece by piece, until she stood completely naked in front of the mirror.
She didn’t look. She couldn’t.
She gathered the clothes and placed them in the black trash bin, just as Faye had instructed earlier. The bin was labeled for disposal—nothing in this room would be kept, nothing would be returned to the Auclair mansion.
Everything Asteria had arrived in would be burned, and Faye had promised to replace it all.
Asteria turned away from the bin and walked toward the shower. Not the tub—she couldn’t bear the thought of soaking in still water, of sitting with her thoughts in the silence.
The shower was better. The water would run over her and down the drain, carrying the dirt and the blood and the memories with it.
She stepped inside and turned the handle.
The water cascaded down her body, warm at first, then hot, then almost scalding. She welcomed the heat. It distracted her from the other sensations—the sting of water hitting raw flesh, the throbbing ache of wounds that had never been given time to heal, the way every muscle in her body seemed to clench at once.
"Haah~ mmmm~"
A sharp whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it. She immediately covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide, her heart racing. She couldn’t afford to make loud sounds.
Faye was probably still nearby, still worrying, still listening. If she heard Asteria in pain, she would come in. And if she came in, she would see.
Asteria pressed her palms tighter against her mouth and endured.
The water ran pink for a moment—dried blood from the scabs on her back—before clearing. She stood under the spray for a long time, letting it wash over her, letting it carry away the grime and the fear and the exhaustion.
Her body shook. Her teeth chattered despite the heat. But she didn’t move.
~~~•••~~~
Twenty minutes later, Asteria finally stepped out of the shower.
She wrapped herself in the plush white bathrobe, the fabric soft and luxurious against her damaged skin. It felt like nothing she had ever worn before—like being wrapped in a cloud, in a dream, in someone else’s life.
She tied the belt loosely around her waist and took a moment to steady herself before opening the bathroom door.
Candles flickered on the nightstand, filling the air with the scent of vanilla and sandalwood. And there, in the wardrobe area, stood Faye, surrounded by racks of beautiful gowns in every color imaginable.
Faye was holding up an expensive dress and gown, the fabric shimmering in the candlelight. She turned when she heard Asteria approach, her face breaking into a bright smile.
"Ah, there you are!" Faye gestured to the gowns around her. "I’ve been picking out some options for you. What do you think? This one is lovely, but this one—" she held up a sapphire blue gown, "—would bring out your eyes."
Asteria looked at the gowns. They were beautiful—more beautiful than anything she had ever worn, more beautiful than anything she had ever dreamed of wearing.
Silk and satin and lace, in jewel tones and pastels and deep, rich hues. Each one looked like it belonged in a fairy tale, on a princess, on someone who deserved to be seen.
Asteria frowned.
"Uhm... Mama..." Her voice was hesitant, almost apologetic.
Faye’s smile softened. "Mmmm? Yes, dear?"
"Can... Can I please talk to you alone?"
Faye’s eyes flickered with concern, but she didn’t hesitate. She nodded once and turned to the two maids who had been waiting quietly by the door.
"Leave us," Faye said, her voice gentle but firm. The maids bowed and exited quickly, closing the door behind them.
Faye guided Asteria to a plush chair near the window and sat down beside her, taking the girl’s cold hands in her own warm ones. "Yes, dear. What is it that you want to talk about?"
Asteria hesitated at first, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. She sat next to Faye but kept a small distance between them, as if she was afraid of taking up too much space.
"Mama." Asteria’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. "The dresses are beautiful."
Faye beamed. "Hahaha, I know! I wish Keres would wear them, but she loves suits. Vests, men’s shoes, Rolex watches, suits, neckties." She rolled her eyes fondly, the gesture full of maternal exasperation.
"I tried to get her into a dress once, when she was twelve. You should have seen the look she gave me. I thought she was going to set the dress on fire just to prove a point."
Asteria let out a small, soft laugh—genuine, surprised, quickly stifled. "Hehe."
But then her smile faded, and her hands tensed in Faye’s grip.
"But... I can’t wear them, Mama."
Faye didn’t flinch or overreact. She had learned long ago that overreacting made people shut down, and she didn’t want Asteria to shut down.
Not now.
Not when they were finally making progress. She was just a bit taken aback, her eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Why? Don’t you like them?"
Asteria shook her head quickly, almost frantically. "N-No! They’re very beautiful, Mama. But..." She trailed off, her voice catching in her throat. "I... I-I..."
She lowered her gaze, staring at her own fingers as they fidgeted together in her lap. Twisting, pulling, turning white at the knuckles.
"I just don’t think I deserve to wear such beautiful dresses."
The words hung in the air, heavy and sad and so wrong that Faye felt her heart crack.
She immediately pulled Asteria, her arms wrapping around the girl’s thin shoulders, holding her close. "No, child." Faye said,
"You deserve it. You deserve all of it and more. I am your mother now. I will give you everything they took from you." Faye added.
"But Mama—"
"No buts." Faye pulled back just enough to look Asteria in the eyes, her gaze steady and sure.
"Now that Keres has said you’re her fiancée, you don’t have to hold back anymore. Do you understand? You don’t have to be small. You don’t have to be quiet. You don’t have to apologize for existing."
Asteria nodded, but Faye could see that she still didn’t fully believe it. The words were too new, too foreign, too much like a language she had never been taught.
Her eyes still held that familiar doubt, that familiar fear—the certainty that kindness was temporary, that safety was an illusion, and that at any moment the rug would be pulled out from under her and she would crash back down to the life she had always known.
How did things get like this? It was all so fast.
"And... I can’t wear the dress because..." Asteria hesitated again, her fingers curling into the fabric of her bathrobe. She could feel Faye’s patient gaze on her, waiting, not pushing.
Then Asteria stood.
Before she could lose her nerve, she untied the belt of her bathrobe and let it fall to the floor. She stood bare naked in front of Faye, her arms coming up instinctively to cover her crotch and her breasts, her cheeks flushing with shame. But she held her ground. She didn’t look away.
"B-Because..." Asteria’s voice cracked. "Of this."
Faye’s mouth fell open.
She slowly rose from her chair, her eyes wide, her hand lifting to cover her lips. She was so shocked by what she was seeing that for a moment, she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Asteria’s body was a map of suffering.
Bruises in every stage of healing—purple and black and greenish-yellow—covered her ribs, her thighs, her upper arms. Some were fresh, clearly only days old. Others were faded, almost gone, but replaced by new ones just above them.
Scars crisscrossed her back in long, angry lines—whip lashes, old and new, some raised and white, others still pink and tender. Her wrists bore faint circular marks, as if they had been bound too tightly, too many times.
And on her shoulders, just peeking out from beneath her collarbone, were small burn scars—round and precise, like the end of a cigarette.
Faye’s hand trembled against her lips. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. Not yet. Not in front of Asteria.
"What have they done, Asteria?" Faye’s voice was barely a whisper, cracked and raw.
She stepped forward and cupped Asteria’s cheek, her touch feather-light, as if she was afraid the girl might shatter. Asteria leaned into the touch despite herself, her eyes fluttering closed.
"It... It hurts a lot, Mama~~~" Asteria’s voice broke on the last word, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
"I know. I know." Faye pulled her into another hug, this one gentler than before, mindful of the wounds she couldn’t see but knew were there.
She cradled the back of Asteria’s head, pressing the girl’s face into her shoulder.
"Oh God~" She closed her eyes, breathing through the rage that threatened to consume her. "I’m never giving you back. No matter what happens. Do you hear me? Never."
She pulled back slightly, holding Asteria at arm’s length, her eyes roaming over the damage with a clinical detachment she didn’t feel.
"After this, we’re going to get you checked. A doctor. A real one. Someone who can treat these properly."
But Asteria shook her head, her expression pleading. "I... I probably just need rest, Mama."
"Rest?" Faye’s voice rose slightly, incredulous. "No. You need medical attention. Some of these wounds look infected. If they’re not treated—"
"Please trust me?" Asteria’s voice was small but urgent. "Please? Just for now. I’ll rest. I’ll let the maids bring me food. I’ll drink water. But please... no doctors. Not yet."
Faye stared at her for a long moment, her jaw tight, her hands still gripping Asteria’s shoulders. Every instinct screamed at her to call a doctor immediately, to have Asteria examined from head to toe, to document every injury so that when she destroyed the Auclair family, she had evidence to justify the destruction.
But Asteria was looking at her with such desperate hope, such fragile trust, that Faye couldn’t bring herself to say no.
She heaved a frustrated sigh, her shoulders sagging. "But—" She cut herself off, pressing her lips together. Another sigh. "Fine." The word came out like a concession, like a defeat.
"But if you pass out or get any worse—if your fever spikes or those wounds start smelling—I’m taking you to the hospital. No more buts. No more hesitation."
Asteria nodded quickly, relief flooding her face. She knew she should be grateful. She knew Faye was right. But the thought of seeing a doctor, of being poked and prodded and questioned, of having to explain how she got each scar, each burn, each broken bone—it was another kind of pain, one she wasn’t ready to face.
Faye guided Asteria back to the chair and helped her sit down, draping the bathrobe over her shoulders without making her put it back on. She knelt in front of her, taking Asteria’s hands again.
"The Auclairs will have their karma," Faye said quietly, her voice cold in a way Asteria had never heard before.
It was the voice of a woman who had ordered deaths, who had destroyed enemies, who had protected her family with steel and fire for decades.
But Asteria shook her head, her expression troubled. "Mama, can we just please leave it in the past? I... I don’t want you to get involved with my problems."
Faye’s eyes narrowed. "Involved? Asteria, you are my daughter now. Your problems are my problems. Your pain is my pain. That’s what family means."
Asteria insisted, her voice growing more desperate. "Please? I know my parents better than anyone. They’re dangerous, Mama. Not like you—not powerful in a way that shows. They’re sneaky. They lie. They smile to your face and stab you in the back. Please. I don’t want them to hurt you too."
Faye shook her head slowly, her expression unmoved.
"You’ve asked me many times tonight about leaving them alone." Faye’s voice was quiet but final. "And I won’t let it slide. You’re an Eisenthurn now. And no one bullies an Eisenthurn."
The words landed like a verdict, final and unappealable. Faye’s expression made it clear that she would no longer be rejected by Asteria on this matter. The conversation was over.
Asteria opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. She could see it in Faye’s eyes—the steel beneath the softness, the predator beneath the mother.
Faye Eisenthurn was not a woman who could be persuaded to look the other way. Not when it came to family.
So Asteria simply nodded, accepting what she could not change.
"Okay, Mama," she whispered. "Okay."
Faye’s expression softened again, the steel retreating back behind her eyes. She reached up and brushed a strand of hair from Asteria’s face, tucking it gently behind her ear.
"Good girl," Faye said softly. "Now, let’s find you a dress. Something comfortable. Something that makes you feel beautiful." She stood and turned back toward the rack of gowns, her hand hovering over the fabrics. "And tomorrow, we’ll talk about what comes next. Together."
Asteria watched her—this woman who had claimed her as a daughter, who had promised to protect her, who looked at her like she was worth something.
She still couldn’t quite believe it was real. She still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Faye to change her mind, for someone to knock on the door and tell her it was all a mistake and she needed to go back to the Auclair mansion.
But the knock never came.
And for the first time in fifteen years, Asteria allowed herself to hope.
