Rich Man Spots Old Cross on Maid’s Neck and Turns Pale from a Sudden Memory – Story of the Day

Elena is a maid in a big mansion. After a couple of unexpected events, the owner and lord of the estate falls in love with her, but what can Elena do when so many obstacles stand in the way of her finding true love?

In the big mansion of a wealthy businessman, the hushed footsteps of servants could be heard along the corridors.

Clad in a black maid's uniform, the edges daringly above her knees, Elena, one of the maids, navigated the polished floors with an unspoken precision.

Her duties as a maid were more than a chore; they were a meticulous dance, ensuring every dish and detail spoke of perfection. With her head lowered, she moved gracefully out of the kitchen with a covered container in her hands.

At the grand dining table, Marco, the young and affluent master of the house, sat at the head, commanding attention. Rose, his fiancée, occupied the only other seat at the table. Luca, the ever-watchful butler, stood by Elena's side.

Elena's hands moved deftly, placing dishes with a precision born out of routine. Her gaze remained lowered, focused on the tasks at hand.

With a subtle gesture, Elena filled the wine glasses, her movements deliberate, hoping to navigate the evening without a misstep. However, the tranquility teetered on the edge of disruption when Rose's dissatisfaction cut through the air like a sudden storm.

"Fill my glass again! I shouldn't have to tell you. Why else are you standing behind me?" Rose's sharp and demanding voice shattered the composed ambiance in the air.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Elena apologized, a rush of nerves accompanying her swift response as she hurried to rectify the perceived error, pouring the wine with heightened concentration.

Caught between the intensity of Rose's gaze and Marco's uncharacteristic scrutiny, Elena felt a wave of discomfort. It didn't help that she had noticed Marco's eyes linger on her more than usual, a gaze that extended beyond the boundaries of employer and maid.

As Elena poured the wine into Rose's glass, her hand faltered, a momentary lapse that resulted in a small spill. Rose's reaction, however, was far from proportionate. Her sudden yell, directed at Marco, reverberated through the dining room.

"What are you looking at her for!" Rose's accusation hung in the air, leaving Elena bewildered and on edge.

"What!" Marco said with a stunned look on his face.

"Stop pretending, Marco. You were looking at her chest."

Caught in the crossfire of their escalating exchange, Elena continued cleaning the table, trying to discreetly wipe away all traces of red wine off the tablecloth.

"What are you talking about? I was staring at her cross!" Marco retorted, his tone defensive, yet the spark of annoyance in his eyes hinted at a deeper conflict.

"Oh, please! You think I don't know that you're already thinking of cheating on me with another woman?"

The once harmonious dinner had transformed into a battleground of words, each sentence with unspoken tensions. Marco's calm demeanor clashed with Rose's escalating hysteria, creating a dissonance that Elena could scarcely comprehend.

"Please ignore my fiancée's hysterics; I'm leaving for work," Marco declared abruptly, rising from his seat. His exit, marked by an angry napkin toss, only seemed to fuel Rose's fury.

As Marco left the dining room, his measured departure contrasted sharply with Rose's seething anger. Alone with Elena, Rose's attention fixated on the silver cross adorning Elena's neck.

"Take it off!" Rose's order sliced through the air, a demand punctuated by rising fury. "Take it off now!"

Elena, caught in the storm of emotions, felt a surge of panic. Rose's rage was directed at her, a mere maid entangled in the tumult of her employers' discord. The old silver cross, a relic of sentimental value, now hung at the center of the brewing storm.

Amidst the tension, Elena hesitated, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the clasp. Rose's impatience intensified, her face contorted with anger.

"I-I can't. It's too precious to me," Elena, stuttering back in response, took a step back, clutching the cross tightly, a symbol of profound personal value.

"You’re nothing but a maid, yet you dare to disobey me!" Rose's harsh words reverberated through the grand hall.

Rose swiftly and furiously extended her hand, aiming to snatch the cross from Elena's neck. The fragile silence shattered as the chain snapped in two, leaving Elena gasping in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Even Luca, the usually composed butler, couldn't conceal his astonishment. His jaws dropped open, and he unconsciously performed a sign of the cross, sensing the gravity of the unfolding drama.

At this tumultuous moment, Marco, the owner of the mansion and Rose's fiancé, returned, drawn by the echoes of the heated argument. "I'll never tolerate this kind of behavior. Fortunately, we are not married yet!" Marco declared sternly, addressing Rose with unwavering authority.

"Marco!" Rose screamed his name, a mix of shock and fury etched on her face. The confrontation took an unexpected turn when Marco, fueled by a determination to uphold fairness, went beyond defending Elena. He removed the engagement ring from Rose's finger, severing their engagement in a single decisive act.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Rose stammered, terror in her eyes as she witnessed the unraveling of the carefully planned future she had envisioned with Marco.

"Oh my God! Are you breaking up with me because of the maid? Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten I love you? I do...I love you. Don't do this..." Rose hysterically pleaded, latching onto Marco, who sharply moved to avoid her.

"Stay away from me, Rose. Don't bother me!"

Instead of engaging with Rose, Marco turned to Elena, his expression unreadable. "Let's go to my study. I'll help you," he offered unexpectedly.

Elena, taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, hesitated, glancing at the stormy expression directed at her from Rose.

"Sir—" Elena began, wanting to refuse Marco's help, but he shook his head, insisting, "No, I'll help you fix the chain." His determination was precise, and Elena sensed there was more to this gesture than a simple act of kindness.

Elena could feel an intense gaze on her back as she followed Marco to his study, one that could only belong to Rose, Marco's fiancée, whom he had just broken up with, but Elena didn't care.

She's no longer his fiancée, and she can't hurt me.

In the quiet sanctuary of Marco's study, the atmosphere was tense. Elena, uncertain of what lay ahead, watched as Marco gestured for her to take a seat. "I've noticed you wearing that cross every day. It seems to hold great significance for you," he observed, breaking the silence.

Elena, still grappling with the recent turn of events, nodded hesitantly. "Yes, sir. It was a gift from my grandmother. It means a lot to me."

As Marco delicately examined the broken chain, Elena felt a strange mix of vulnerability and gratitude. The man who owned the mansion, a man of wealth and status, was taking the time to mend a maid's necklace.

"I see. Family heirlooms are precious. Now, let me see what I can do about fixing it," Marco said, his hands skillfully working on the delicate task.

While Marco worked, Elena couldn't help but wonder why he was offering her kindness. "Why are you helping me, sir? I'm just a maid, and this is a family matter."

Marco paused, meeting her gaze. "I believe in fairness, Elena. Regardless of our positions, we're all human, and everyone deserves respect. Besides, I can't stand by when someone is treated unjustly."

Elena, touched by his sincerity, began to see Marco in a new light.

She had always admired her boss, but at that moment, she found him even more charming than ever.

When the chain was finally repaired, Marco handed it back to Elena. "Take care of it. And remember, you deserve to be treated with dignity and respect."

Hearing his words, Elena could feel tears slowly pool in her eyes right before she felt them slowly slide down her face a few seconds later.

Marco instantly felt agitated at the sight of her tears, not knowing what could have prompted it, considering he had just fixed her chain for her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, jumping off his chair and moving closer to pass one of his handkerchiefs toward her.

"I-I'm sorry, it's just been a while since anyone said such words to me," Elena said, wiping the tears off her face.

Marco didn't know how to respond for a few seconds as he watched her dab the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief he had given her.

Not knowing how to console her, what to say to make her feel better, he said the only thing he could think of.

"Follow me! Let me show you my secret garden," he told her softly when he saw she was much calmer than before.

"You'll be the first person ever to see it."

"Wha-what! I could never do that! What would your fiancée say?" she asked, unconsciously looking behind her as she spoke.

"She's no longer my fiancée, remember? I already took the ring from her. Moreover, my family were the ones who arranged the marriage, not me," Marco softly explained, moving closer to her as he spoke.

"But I still have a lot of housework to do," Elena said, responding with another excuse.

She desperately wanted to go with him but simultaneously worried about the rumors that were bound to spread if the other servant saw her walking with their employer.

"I'm the master of this house, am I not? If I say so, you don't have to do anything for the rest of the day."

Elena couldn't continue stubbornly refusing as she nodded and finally accepted, curious to go somewhere no one else in the house was allowed.

The garden, a sanctuary of vibrant blossoms, captured Elena's gaze as she strolled through its enchanting pathways.

The beauty that surrounded her was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the rigid corridors of the mansion where she spent most of her days.

Amidst the kaleidoscope of colors, her employer, Marco, seemed to merge seamlessly with the natural elegance of the garden.

His commanding yet oddly gentle presence drew her attention like a magnet. Elena found herself torn between the captivating allure of the flowers and the magnetic pull of Marco's gaze.

Walking side by side, their arms occasionally brushed, sending subtle tremors through Elena.

At first, the proximity felt tense, a delicate dance in the intricate tapestry of their unspoken connection.

However, as they continued their stroll, an unspoken understanding unfolded, liberating Elena from the constraints that governed her life within the mansion.

Lost in her thoughts, the tranquility shattered when Marco whispered into her ear, his voice a soft murmur.

"How do you feel?" His words, a gentle intrusion into her thoughts, brought her back to the present.

"Gre-great. I wish I could be here more often," Elena replied, her excitement tinged with melancholy. The prospect of being barred from this haven weighed on her, a bittersweet realization that she cherished this stolen moment.

Marco, a master of the mansion and the unspoken dynamics, turned to face her fully. His eyes, a magnetic force, held hers captive.

"If you don't mind my company, you could join me here in the evenings," he offered, the words hanging in the air like the delicate scent of the surrounding flowers.

Elena, caught between shock and delight, couldn't contain her excitement.

"I-I want to. Only if you don't mind; I won't want to impose on you," she responded, head slightly bowed, a manifestation of humility and anticipation.

The warmth of Marco's hands enveloped hers, a tangible agreement to the unspoken pact forged in the garden.

"It's a deal then!" he declared with a smile that carried an intensity, a promise of something unspoken. Under the weight of his gaze, Elena couldn't help but squirm, a subtle acknowledgment of the undercurrents weaving through their connection.

As they continued their stroll, Marco's actions spoke louder than words. His gestures, whether adjusting a fallen tendril of ivy or guiding her away from a hidden thorn, painted a picture of a man attuned to the details, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate balance within the garden and, perhaps, within their budding connection.

The garden, a silent witness to the blossoming narrative, seemed to echo with secrets and unspoken confessions. The petals of the flowers mirrored the delicate unfolding of emotions; each blooms a reflection of the intricate dance between employer and maid.

In the evenings that followed, as they shared the space of the garden, their interactions transcended the constraints of employer and employee.

Marco, tall and confident, approached her with a deliberate grace. He held a single red flower in his garden, its petals vibrant against the greenery. With a gentle touch, he tucked the flower into her hair, his fingers lingering for a moment too long.

"You look like a princess," he said, his voice low and filled with an emotion he dared not name, but Elena's response tinged with melancholy as she stepped back to avoid him.

"Sorry, but you're engaged, Mr. Marco," she reminded him, her eyes darkening with sorrow. She was acutely aware of the arranged marriage looming over him, a union orchestrated by his family with a woman named Rose. The weight of this reality wedged heavily between them.

"Yeah, but I took back the engagement ring, remember?" he said, stepping closer to her. His eyes sparkled with pride, and his hand gently reached out to caress her cheek, an intimate gesture that spoke volumes.

Elena, however, could not shake off her apprehensions.

Elena's voice trembled slightly as she addressed a concern that weighed heavily on her heart.

"But your fiancée is still in the house, and she hopes to get everything back," she said, her tone laced with fear and unease.

The thought of Rose, wrathful and vindictive, possibly discovering their secret meetings in the garden filled her with a deep sense of dread.

Noticing the anxiety etched on Elena's face, Marco leaned in closer, his presence a comforting balm against her fears.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess it's time I asked her to move out," he said softly, his voice carrying a decisive edge that spoke of a man ready to take bold steps.

Elena's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing with the implications of his words. "Wha-what?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching his for confirmation.

Marco held her gaze, searching for the depth of her feelings. "Unless you have a boyfriend and you don't—" he asked earnestly, the question heavy with meaning.

The question hung in the air, charged with potential. "Boyfriend? I-I don't have a boyfriend," Elena replied quickly, her head shaking emphatically, her eyes wide with sincerity.

Feeling a glimmer of hope, Marco's voice was firm with resolve. "Then I'll talk to her and my family. It's nothing more than an arranged marriage, and it can't happen if I disagree."

Their conversation marked a pivotal point in their relationship. Marco reached out, their fingers intertwining. "We'll continue to meet at our usual place, right, okay?" he asked, his grip firm yet gentle.

Elena looked up at him, her eyes blending hope and apprehension. "Yes, Marco, I'll be there," she whispered, her voice steadied by the strength she found in his gaze.

In the garden, their sanctuary from the world, Marco's demeanor towards Elena was equality and respect.

"I always feel like I can be myself around you, Elena. You see me for who I am, not for what I have," he confessed, his words revealing the depth of his trust in her.

Elena, touched by his openness, responded with equal honesty. "And I never thought I'd find someone who would listen to me. You've given me that, Marco," she said, her voice soft yet filled with emotion.

As they talked, surrounded by the garden's beauty, they transcended the barriers of their societal roles. Yet, beneath this idyllic veneer, they remained acutely aware of the societal norms that framed their world.

Their conversations, filled with shared dreams and whispered confessions, became a haven from the outside world. But even as they grew closer, the reality of their societal positions lingered, a silent reminder of the challenges in their unconventional relationship.

Elena did her best to hide her meetings with Marco in the garden, but rumors about them slowly began to spread, and Rose, who continued to live in the mansion, soon heard about it.

In the opulent, shadow-filled room, Rose stood seething with rage, her elegant posture belying the storm brewing within.

She had spent the last several days desperately trying to win Marco back, to beg and please her way into his heart. She had barely managed to keep herself from being thrown out so far, and she was determined to change Marco's heart. That was until she heard the revelation from the loyal butler.

Having just delivered shocking news, Luca tensed, fully aware of the storm he had unleashed. Rose's piercing gaze locked onto him, demanding answers.

"How long has this been happening?” Rose’s voice was icy, cutting through the tense air like a knife.

Trying to maintain his composure, Luca replied cautiously, "About a week."

No sooner had the words left his lips than a glass cup, propelled by Rose's fury, whistled past his head, crashing against the wall and exploding into a spray of glittering shards.

Rose's voice rose, thunderous in the confined space. "A week! And you didn't think to inform me? Am I a fool in your eyes?"

Before Luca could defend his actions, another glass cup flew towards him.

This time, he wasn't as lucky; a rogue piece of glass sliced his cheek, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him.

He glanced around, half expecting another projectile and half contemplating an escape, only to watch as Rose's anger dissolved into concern in a surprising turn of events.

She closed the gap between them, her fingers tenderly tracing the cut on his cheek. "I didn't mean to harm you. It's a small wound, but it must hurt," she murmured, her lips gently brushing the injury in a soft, apologetic kiss.

Caught off guard, Luca stammered, "Miss Rose—"

Rose's voice softened, her body pressing closer to his. "Are you just going to stand by while Marco rejects me for a maid? Don't you care for me?" she said in a sultry, silken voice.

"I've seen how you look at me. I'm not numb to this...tension between us. But if Marco makes me leave...how could we possibly continue to meet each other?"

Luca's heart raced, torn between duty and desire. Despite the risk, he remained still, captivated by Rose's nearness.

The forbidden allure of being entangled with Rose and engaged to his master, Marco, was a thrill he couldn't deny.

Rose's whisper was a blend of urgency and cunning in the dimly lit room, where the shadows played tricks on the walls. A sly glint danced in her eyes, reflecting the flickering candlelight as she leaned close to Luca, her breath warm against his ear, her presence intoxicating.

"If you don't do something about this, we won't be able to see each other anymore," she murmured, her words laced with desperation and manipulation, her voice a sultry melody of persuasion.

Rose then unfolded her meticulously crafted plan, her voice low and persuasive, like a serpent weaving a hypnotic spell.

"If you do it, not only will their relationship crumble, but Marco will cast Elena out instead of me," she said, her fingers tracing patterns in the air as if drawing the intricate web of her scheme, her movements deliberate and enchanting.

Luca listened, his brow furrowed with concern, his eyes reflecting the storm of emotions within him.

The plan was devious, yes, but effective. Yet, the thought of Marco discovering their plot filled him with dread, his heart pounding against his chest, and his loyalty to his boss warred with his growing attachment to Rose.

Seeing his hesitation, Rose tightened her grip, her eyes brimming with tears that glistened like jewels.

"He won't find out! I'll make sure of it," she promised, her voice a blend of conviction and vulnerability, her eyes locking onto his, pleading.

"Please, Luca! You have to do this for me," she implored, knowing well that Luca, trusted implicitly by Marco, was the perfect instrument for her machinations, her gaze unyielding, imploring.

Rose was prepared to plead further, her lips parting for more words of persuasion, but Luca's nod cut her off.

"I'll do it, but on one condition," he said, his gaze intense and full of unspoken desire, his voice deep and resonant.

Rose caught the meaning instantly, her smile widening, a predator's smile, as she led him towards the bed, their pact sealed with more than words, their steps synchronized in the dance of conspiracy.

Hours later, Marco returned home. The mansion was quiet, the evening shadows long and deep, creeping along the walls and floors.

As usual, Luca was there to greet him, a picture of impeccable service, his posture straight, his expression the perfect mask of servility.

"Welcome, sir," Luca said, taking Marco's briefcase and following him towards the grand staircase, his steps silent and measured.

Marco, weary from the day, was halfway up the stairs when Luca's unexpected voice halted him.

"Mr. Marco!" he called out, his voice betraying a hint of nervous excitement. Turning, Marco looked at Luca with curiosity, his eyes searching, his brow slightly furrowed in confusion.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering what could be so important that it couldn't wait.

"Sorry for being so direct, but would you mind if I asked Elena to marry me?" Luca's question was delivered with nervous excitement, his hands fidgeting like a young boy confessing his first love, his eyes wide, hopeful.

Marco was stunned, his mind reeling, his face a canvas of shock, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Are you and Elena dating?" he asked, struggling to comprehend the revelation, his voice faltering slightly, his stance rigid with surprise.

"Yes, for many years," Luca replied, his grin wide and hopeful, his eyes shining with joy and anticipation.

Marco, still processing, couldn't immediately respond, his face betraying a mix of shock and something darker, colder, his emotions a whirlpool of confusion and betrayal.

"I think it's true love, and I don't want to wait any longer. So, you don't mind?" Luca pressed, eager to cement his claim, his voice steadier now, his gaze unflinching on Marco.

After a moment, Marco's response was terse. "Yeah, I wish you the best," he said, his voice flat, his demeanor chilling as he turned and strode towards the entrance instead of his room, his steps heavy, his back to Luca.

Luca's smile only widened as the door slammed shut, his heart racing with triumph.

He knew the impact of his words and the ripples they would send through the mansion's halls. And then, Rose was descending the staircase, her smile mirroring his, her steps graceful, predatory. She had heard everything, her ears keen, her mind calculating.

"You did well," she praised him, closing the gap between them for a celebratory kiss, her arms wrapping around him, their bodies close, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both a reward and a seal of their shared secret.

Their plan was in motion, a dangerous game of deception and hidden desires.

His eyes alight with a mix of thrill and anticipation, Luca moved to pull Rose closer, the heat of their conspiracy igniting a fiery excitement in him.

However, Rose abruptly pulled away as their closeness peaked, eyes sharp and focused.

"It's not over yet! You must plant more evidence in Elena's room while I do my part. You'll do it tonight!" she instructed him, her voice firm and commanding, her hands placing a small folder into his with a sly, calculating expression.

"Do not open it! Just place it under her pillow tonight!" she warned sternly, her tone brooking no argument.

With that, she released herself from his grasp and ascended the stairs with purposeful steps, leaving Luca a tad frustrated but fully aware of the stakes. His intimate relationship with Rose was a delicate dance on the blade's edge; one wrong move, and he could be cast aside.

That night, enveloped in shadows and silence, Luca stealthily went to Elena's bedroom. His heart pounded in his chest as he carefully placed the envelope under her pillow, his fingers itching with curiosity to peek inside.

He hesitated the temptation to uncover the secrets within the envelope gnawing at him. Still, ultimately, he decided against it, leaving the envelope undisturbed, his sense of duty prevailing over curiosity.

Meanwhile, Elena waited in the garden for Marco, her heart filled with worry. The cool night air brushed against her skin as she pondered his unusual absence, especially since he had always kept her informed of his whereabouts since their relationship deepened.

Her mind was a whirlwind of concern, leaving no room for thoughts of anything else, not even the idea of checking under her pillow.

The next morning, Elena, convinced that Marco must have returned late, approached his room with hope. She knocked softly, expecting to see Marco, but instead, she heard a familiar, unexpected voice.

"Come in," Rose called out, her tone casual and unbothered.

Elena stepped in, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of Rose lying half-naked on the bed, the sheets tousled as if from a night of passion. The sound of running water from the shower filled the room, a stark, disturbing contrast to the scene before her.

Elena stood frozen, her gaze darting between Marco's clothes strewn on the bed and the bathroom door, from where the sound of the shower emanated. The reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks - Marco and Rose were together again.

Tears began to flow unbidden down Elena's cheeks, her heart shattering into a million pieces. She heard Rose's mocking voice, laced with triumph.

"You're crying? Did you think Marco, a young and rich millionaire, would be interested in a maid? He probably wanted to play around," Rose sneered, her smirk cruel and taunting.

"Get out of here! You're no longer welcome here!" Rose's voice was harsh and dismissive, sending Elena fleeing from the room, her tears blurring her vision as she ran down the stairs, her mind a cacophony of betrayal and heartbreak.

"He lied to me!" Elena sobbed, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she stumbled down the stairs, her world crumbling around her. But she froze mid-step, her heart lurching in her chest, as she nearly collided with the last person she expected to see.

"Elena, what's wrong?" Marco's voice was laden with concern, his expression one of distress. He was still angry about the revelations but was more immediately concerned with Elena's evident pain.

"You were with Rose! I went to the garden, and you weren't there!" Elena managed to say between sobs; her words choked with emotion, her face streaked with tears and snot, the pain and confusion in her voice palpable.

Marco stood before her, a look of confusion and concern etching his features as the layers of deception and betrayal unraveled around them.

Marco stood, his face a mask of disbelief, as Elena's tearful accusation hung in the air. "What are you talking about? I haven't spoken to her for days. But you lied to me!" His voice was a mix of hurt and anger, the sting of betrayal evident.

"I spoke to our butler, and he said you two were dating. Why didn't you tell me?"

Elena's response was immediate and heartfelt, her eyes brimming with sincerity.

"What? No! My heart belongs only to you," she declared, her voice quivering. The conviction in her words, the raw honesty in her eyes, reached into Marco's heart, sowing seeds of belief.

Despite her tears, Marco pulled Elena along, his grip firm yet gentle, as they ascended the stairs toward his room. The air was thick with tension, questions swirling around them like a whirlpool. However, upon reaching his room, they found a scene of chaos.

Rose was in the midst of a heated argument with Luca. "Let go of me! I can't be with you right now! Didn't I warn you not to open the envelope? You were supposed to leave it under her pillow; why did you bring it back?"

Luca, his face flushed and desperate, clung to Rose. "It’s an aphrodisiac? Why did you tell me to put it under her pillow? I feel so hot, Rose; please help me!" His voice was confused and pleading, his hands reaching out for her in a blind need.

Rose tried to push him away, her frustration evident. "Just because we're sleeping together doesn't mean—" Her words were cut short as she turned and saw Marco and Elena at the entrance. Her face drained of color, her eyes wide with shock and realization.

Before she could attempt to explain, the situation escalated. Luca, oblivious to the gravity of the moment, continued his advances. "Please, Miss Rose! This won't be the first time, and it shouldn't be the—"

Marco had heard enough. "You were sleeping around, and that's why you were always suspicious of me," he said, his voice cold, his disappointment palpable. He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up his determined face as he called the security at the gate.

"You got Luca to lie to me and set up this performance for Elena too, just to separate us," Marco pieced together, his mind racing with the betrayal. He realized how close they had come to being torn apart if he hadn't brought Elena upstairs.

The security team arrived promptly, their presence filling the room with an air of finality. "Throw them out!" Marco ordered, his voice unwavering, his decision final.

Rose's pleas fell on deaf ears as she was escorted out. "Marco! I'm sorry. He forced me. I would never sleep with a lowly butler like him," she cried out, her voice tinged with desperation. But Marco, his focus now solely on Elena, ignored her.

"I'm sorry, Elena. Please stay here, in this house with me, forever. I love you!" Marco declared, his voice a mix of apology and affection.

Elena's response was hesitant, her voice soft. "But we can't be together. I'm not from a wealthy family like you. I'm just an ordinary maid," she confessed, her eyes downcast, her spirit wounded by the recent events.

Marco, however, was undeterred. "Why would that matter? Surely you don't think I'm that shallow. Also, you're wrong, Elena. Your cross belongs to the Royal Family," he revealed a hint of excitement in his voice. He took her hand, leading her to the library, where he showed her a picture of her cross in an ancient book. The image was identical to the one she always wore, a revelation that left Elena speechless.

The library was a treasure trove of history, its shelves lined with books that held past secrets. Marco pulled out a tome, aged and worn, its pages filled with stories of royalty and lineage.

He turned the pages carefully, his fingers tracing the lines of text as he read aloud the royal family's history and how their heirlooms were scattered during times of turmoil.

Elena listened, her mind reeling from the implications. The cross she had always thought was a simple trinket was, in fact, a relic of royal heritage. Marco watched her, his eyes soft with understanding, as he explained the significance of the cross.

In the grand library, filled with the wisdom of ages and the echoes of history, Elena stood, her eyes fixed on the image in the ancient book.

The revelation that her simple cross was a relic of royal heritage was overwhelming, a truth that seemed to rewrite her entire life's narrative. "Look, technically, you are a princess," Marco said, his voice a blend of awe and conviction, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that spoke volumes of his emotions.

The air around them felt heavy with the weight of this newfound truth, the room a silent witness to a moment that bridged past and present.

Elena's eyes were wide, a tumult of emotions flickering across her face as she absorbed the reality of her lineage. It was almost surreal, the idea that she, who had lived a life of simplicity, could belong to a family of royalty.

Sensing her turmoil, Marco reached out to her, his words filled with heartfelt sincerity.

"You may be a princess, I loved you as a simple girl and still love you now. Nothing else matters!" His declaration cut through the complexities of status and birthright, grounding their relationship in the most fundamental of human emotions.

Still processing the enormity of it all, Elena felt a surge of warmth at his words. Marco's love had been a constant, a beacon in the maelstrom of their recent trials.

His question, "Do you love me?" hung in the air, a poignant and essential query that seemed to encapsulate all their shared experiences.

The intensity of Marco's gaze, earnest and seeking, compelled Elena to respond, not just with words but with action. "I love you," she replied, whispering yet resounding truthfully.

At that moment, as she leaned in to kiss him, a kiss that sealed their shared journey and love, she realized the depth of her feelings.

Their kiss was a meeting of souls, confirming their bond that transcended titles and social standings.

It was a moment of clarity for Elena, understanding that love was the true essence of life. Status, wealth, and lineage, while parts of their identities, paled compared to their genuine connection.

In the embrace of their kiss, Elena and Marco found a sanctuary where the chaos of the outside world faded into insignificance.

It was a realization that the most important thing in life was to open one's heart to love, embrace it thoroughly, and be ready to let it transform you.

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Liam and Owen are two bouncers in an elite club. One day, an elderly man tries to enter, but they maltreat him. Their boss doesn't want 'such a person' in the club, and even the bartender poisons him. The man's hidden identity is revealed, but it might be too late for them, including their boss. Here is the full story.

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