Chapter 283: Trauma Dumping on the Help

Sarah’s stomach let out a quiet, pathetic rumble. She had been on the clock for ten hours, her feet ached, and all she wanted was to go back to her own room and eat a massive bowl of buttered pasta.

But instead, she was trapped here, being held hostage by a woman who treated reality like a mere suggestion.

Diana was propped up against a mountain of silk pillows in the center of the king-sized bed. She was staring at the ceiling, twisting the massive diamond ring on her finger.

"No one understands the burden I carry, Stephanie," Diana sighed, her voice dripping with the theatrical exhaustion of a Victorian widow.

"It’s Sarah, actually," Sarah murmured softly, her hands folded in her lap.

Diana ignored her.

"Damien is my last living brother," Diana continued, her eyes growing distant, glossing over with a dark, chilling memory. "People look at him now and they see this untouchable, terrifying billionaire. They call him the Demon King. But they have no idea what it took to forge that crown."

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. She had heard the rumors, of course. Everyone in the city knew the Sinclair family was practically royalty, and royalty always came with a body count.

"He never had a childhood," Diana whispered, her manicured fingers gripping the edge of the silk duvet. "He didn’t get to play with toys or go to normal schools. He was raised in a slaughterhouse masked as a mansion. I watched my older brothers drop one by one. A hunting accident. A drowning. A sudden, fatal overdose."

An icy shiver snaked down Sarah’s spine.

The way Diana said it, so casually, so devoid of normal human grief, was horrifying. It painted a bleak, terrifying picture of the Sinclair family. Sarah suddenly felt a brief, sharp pang of pity for the terrifying man in the study down the hall.

He was just a child.

"I was just a child myself, but I stepped up," Diana proclaimed, her tone shifting back to self-righteous martyrdom. "I shielded him. I protected him from the monsters in our own bloodline. I was terrified he would grow up to become exactly like them—a heartless, violent sociopath. But he didn’t. He turned out brilliant. He survived because of me."

’Well,’ Sarah thought to herself, biting the inside of her cheek. ’I wouldn’t exactly say he avoided the sociopath allegations.’

"And what is my reward for saving his soul?" Diana scoffed, her face contorting with bitter, ugly rage. "He marries a cheap, D-list nobody who insults me left and right in my own home! She is a parasite, Susan! A manipulative little gold-digger!"

Diana aggressively fluffed a pillow.

"He was supposed to be with Vittoria," Diana sighed, her voice turning wistful and dreamy. "Vittoria Rossi. Have you heard of her? She is an Italian visionary. She has substance, breeding, and actual class. They were the most perfect, powerful match in the world. She understood the weight of his legacy. They would have ruled together."

Diana turned her head, fixing Sarah with an intense, demanding glare.

"He’s just blinded by lust right now," Diana insisted, gesturing wildly. "He is trapped with the wrong woman. But once this little actress phase burns out, he’ll realize I’m right. Don’t you agree, Chloe?"

Sarah stared at the woman in the bed.

She looked at the designer pajamas, the sprawling suite, the millions of dollars surrounding them. Diana Sinclair had absolutely everything a person could ever want in the world, yet she was so incurably miserable.

The exhaustion, combined with her low blood sugar, finally pushed Sarah past her breaking point of professional compliance.

"With all due respect, ma’am," Sarah started.

"Your brother is a nearly thirty-year-old man," she laid the truth down, meeting Diana’s furious glare. "He isn’t a child who needs his older sister to vet his playdates anymore. He doesn’t need your permission to live his life."

Diana’s mouth fell open. A shade of red began to creep up her neck.

"From what I saw," Sarah continued softly but firmly, "he seems to love his wife very much. And she clearly loves him. If Vittoria was the right woman for him, he would be with her. But he chose Aria."

"I can see that you care deeply for your younger brother, Ms. Sinclair," Sarah offered, attempting to soften the blow. "And you are clearly very protective of him because of the trauma you both survived. But if you really loved him as much as you claim to... you would just be happy that he finally found someone who makes him happy."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sarah’s heart kicked into a panicked rhythm. She had definitely just lost her job. She was probably going to be blacklisted from the entire medical field.

"Who," Diana whispered, her voice dropping into a terrifyingly soft, chilling register, "asked for your opinion?"

"I—"

"Get out," Diana snarled, pointing a shaking finger at the oak door. "Get out of my room. I am tired of looking at your face."

"Yes, ma’am," Sarah breathed and quickly left, softly closing the door behind her. She was just happy to be out of there and still with her job.

"Idiot," Diana hissed to the empty room. "What does she know about anything anyway?"

She snatched her phone off the nightstand and opened her messages.

The anger boiling in her chest slowly began to cool, replaced by a thrill of anticipation. She quickly typed out a message, a sly smirk curving her red lips.

[Diana: The nurse is gone for the night. The coast is clear.]

She hit send.

Three seconds later, the typing bubble appeared.

[Unknown: Perfect. See you in five minutes.]

Diana locked her phone, tossing it onto the duvet. She reached up, running her fingers through her dark hair to fluff it out, and subtly adjusted the neckline of her silk pajamas to plunge just a fraction of an inch lower.

She leaned back against the pillows, waiting for the soft knock on her door.