Chapter 1: The Maid of Ravenwood

I’ve lived in the Ravenwood mansion my whole life—not as a family member, but as a servant. A maid who worked for the most powerful family in this part of the world. The Ravenwoods were rich, cruel, and feared by everyone.

Some say I was left at their gate when I was just a baby. No parents, no name. Just a tiny bundle wrapped in a ragged blanket. The only thing they gave me was a name: Aria.

From that day on, the Ravenwood estate became my home. But it was never a place of love or kindness for me. The family was always close-knit, but I was never part of it. I was just a shadow that followed behind, a pair of hands to clean their messes and an invisible servant to obey their every command.

The house was huge—too big for one person to know all its secrets. Marble floors that gleamed in the sunlight, heavy curtains that blocked out the sky, and endless halls where the echoes of laughter or cruel words could chase you like ghosts. There were other maids too, some kind, some just as trapped as me. But I kept to myself mostly. It was safer that way.

The hardest part wasn’t the work. It was the four brothers. The Ravenwood sons. They were my constant tormentors.

When they were kids, they thought it was funny to tease me. To trip me when no one was looking, to hide my cleaning tools, to laugh when I stumbled and got hurt. Their cruelty was sharp and sharp-edged, but I learned to keep my head down and swallow the pain.

Then, a few years ago, they all left. Went overseas to study, they said. I thought maybe, just maybe, life would be easier without them. But today, they’re coming back.

A sudden splash of icy cold water jolted me awake. My eyes shot open, my breath catching in my throat.

“Get up, lazy!” The head maid’s voice was sharp and cruel as she shoved a bucket of freezing water against my face again.

I gasped, spluttering, my skin prickling from the cold. My soaked clothes clung to me as I scrambled to sit up.

“This is no time for dreams, Aria,” she snapped. “The Ravenwood sons are coming home today. The whole house needs to be perfect. And you’re still lying here like you own the place?”

I swallowed the shock and climbed out of bed, teeth chattering. The rough wooden floor felt cold beneath my feet, but I didn’t dare complain.

“Move faster! We have hours before the they arrive.”

My limbs felt stiff, but I had no choice. Every second wasted was a chance to face their scorn later.

I stumbled toward the small wardrobe, pulling on the uniform I’d worn for years—a plain black dress that marked me as nothing more than a servant. The fabric was stiff and scratchy from constant washing, but it was the only thing I had.

Walking through the halls, I felt the familiar weight of the mansion press down on me. The glass walls glinted in the early sunlight, reflecting my pale, tired face back at me.

Servants rushed past carrying trays, folding linens, and polishing every surface until it gleamed. The whole house was alive with activity. The sons’ rooms were being prepared, the dining areas arranged for a grand dinner, the staff scrambling to anticipate every need the Ravenwoods might have.

I moved through the chaos quietly, keeping my head down, avoiding the eyes of the other maids who glanced at me with pity or jealousy. I couldn’t blame them. No one wanted to be in my shoes—always the lowest in the house, always the target.

The memories came flooding back as I passed the grand staircase—the way the four boys had once chased me through these very halls, laughing as they tripped me or pulled my hair.

I remembered the afternoon when Ronan shoved me so hard I fell into the fountain in the garden, soaking my dress and earning a cruel laugh from Elias. I remembered Darius knocking over my cleaning bucket because I was in his way, and Kael—the youngest—watching quietly, never stopping the others but never joining in either.

They told me the story, over and over, to explain why I was here—why I belonged in their house.

“You’re ours, Aria,” Ronan had sneered once. “Left at the gate because your parents couldn’t take care of you. But we own you now.”

I wanted to believe that wasn’t true. I wanted to believe I wasn’t just a possession to be used and discarded. But those words stuck with me like a brand.

The head maid snapped me out of my thoughts with a sharp bark. “The dining hall, Aria! Tables need to be set perfectly. No mistakes.”

I hurried inside, where the long polished tables were covered with fine china and sparkling glassware. The air smelled of fresh flowers and expensive perfume—reminders that this house lived on appearances, no matter how cruel the reality was.

I arranged the silverware carefully, hands steady despite the cold ache in my chest. Today wasn’t just any day. Today, the four sons would return. The boys who had shaped my life with their cruelty and whose arrival would change everything again.

Hours passed in a blur of cleaning and preparing. My muscles ached, my throat was dry, and the weight of the day pressed heavily on me.

Every now and then, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window or mirror—pale, exhausted, but determined. I wasn’t just a servant. At least that's what I always tell myself.

A faint mark, barely visible on my wrist, had appeared recently—something the others hadn’t noticed yet. A mark that made me different. A mark that whispered secrets I wasn’t ready to hear.

As the sun dipped lower, the sound of engines echoed in the distance.

The Ravenwood sons were coming. They are here

And with them, a storm was about to begin.