Chapter 8:  Snow and Sorrow
While riding the bus back to Hartmann Mansion, Megan’s mind swirled with thoughts.
She had lived in the Hartmann family mansion for more than a decade. Life had felt like hell ever since Caspian was gone. After he was lost in what everyone called a car crash eleven years ago, she had endured Valentina’s cruelty every day.
Whenever the Hartmann family was away, Valentina would subject her to every petty, cruel thing she could devise. And whenever they were home, Valentina would fill their ears with lies about her, doing everything she could to convince them to send Megan away. But Theodor Hartmann, the head of the family, only disciplined her when he felt it necessary to be fair; he never cast her out. That protection was a legacy of Caspian: Theodor knew how deeply Caspian had valued her, and that memory was enough to keep her safe. Naturally, this only fueled Valentina’s resentment and jealousy day after day.
There were times she considered finding other work, but she knew she would never find a position that paid as well, or that would accept her without a higher education. The salary and allowance the Hartmanns gave her were far more generous than what most maids and housekeepers earned in other wealthy households nearby.
Beyond that, she had no good explanation to give if she resigned. She knew they would never let her leave without a convincing reason, and she feared what they might do if she tried to slip away without one.
There was also Sabrina, Caspian’s grandmother. Whenever she visited from the country where she had settled years after Caspian’s death, she treated Megan as tenderly as if she were her own granddaughter; another source of Valentina’s bitter envy and growing desire to be rid of her for good.
Sabrina had moved away to cope with her grief. Every room and hallway in the mansion held echoes of Caspian that she could no longer bear. She carried heavy guilt, convinced that if she had only been firmer that day, if she had trusted her intuition and refused to let him travel with his friends, the accident would never have happened. 
If not for Daylan’s lies, Caspian’s family would have sent her to university, helped her finish her degree, and given her a position in one of their companies.
But that lie had shattered their trust in her. Now she understood the full truth: it had all been Valentina’s plan. Daylan’s story had been so convincing because Valentina had orchestrated it all; spreading rumors that Megan had chosen romance over her studies, then bribing people to replace her real report cards with forged ones that showed failing grades, even though she had always worked hard to excel.
When Theodor Hartmann learned what he believed to be the truth, he was furious and refused to listen to anything Megan said in her own defense. Deeply disappointed, he scrapped all plans for her education. Instead, he appointed her head of the household staff, filling the post left by the previous head housekeeper who had retired due to old age.
Megan would never forget the look of triumph on Valentina’s face the day that decision was announced.
The bus driver’s voice, calling out the next stop, pulled her back to the present. She saw they were nearing the turn for Hartmann Mansion and stepped down with the other passengers.
Heavy snow had begun to fall, and no other transport was available at that late hour. She pulled her coat tighter and hurried along the road. The cold brought back old, painful memories. By the time she reached the mansion gates, snow clung to her hair and clothes, and the damp chill had settled deep in her bones. Glancing up, she caught Valentina watching from an upper window; a cold, satisfied smile on her face, as if she were taking pleasure in Megan’s hardship. Megan felt a flare of anger, but knew better than to react. She looked away, slipped inside, and went straight to her small room in the servants’ quarters.
Meanwhile, Morgan lost himself in late-night training, striking the punching bag over and over to push thoughts of Megan aside. But try as he might, he could not shake her from his mind. He was certain it had been her he had seen leaving Ava Blackwood’s villa earlier that evening. He had stopped himself from calling out or running to her; it was far too risky. Jason was never far, and Morgan had not forgotten his warning to stay away from her. He was sure she had seen him too; their eyes had met for a heartbeat before she turned and hurried away.
He knew finding her again would not be difficult; she was close by, he could feel it. But he wondered how she came to be at Ava’s home so late, in such terrible weather. Was she there by choice, or had her employer sent her on an errand? He sighed, his chest tight with sympathy. If only he were free, if only he had his own means and was not bound to Harper, he would have driven her home himself. He would never have let her walk alone through the bitter cold and snow.