Becoming A Step-son's Mistress

Chapter 2

Cynthia's POV:

"Mrs. Madison? Get all the laundry done in the laundry room, Mr. Madison will be here soon!"

"Where's the dinner I asked you to prepare? My God, are you a stupid ass? I can't count on you for anything!"

The kitchen door was slammed against the wall with a loud bang and my hand shook subconsciously, splashing hot soup on the back of my hand and causing me to drop the plate in my left hand.

Before I could respond, Eva rushed into the kitchen and pulled me out of the kitchen by my hair with such force that the pain in my scalp nearly brought tears to my eyes, and I was thrown to the floor of the living room.

I didn't dare to show my discontent or resentment, so I could only hold back the pain and whisper a defense: "Dinner will be ready soon, and I'm going to finish it before I go."

Eva interrupted me impatiently.

"That's enough, I don't want to hear it, you better hurry up and do it now or you'll be in for a treat." She then walked into the kitchen and placed my finished dinner on the table.

I hobbled to my feet, my dislocated arm making simple movements extremely difficult, accompanied by sharp pain, I grunted out, then I limped up the stairs and cleaned up the dirty clothes that were scattered all over the floor of Richard Madison's room and this mess, just like I had been doing for the past few months.

When I finally finished all the chores I needed to do, I walked back to my little room in the attic and restored my dislocated arm, cold sweat covering my forehead and a sigh of relief when the pain subsided.

This has been going on for a long time, ever since Mr. Madison revealed his true colors, I have been tortured step by step into what I am now. I am nominally a lady in this castle, but in reality, I am doing the dirtiest, most painful, and tiring work, facing Mr. Madiso's humiliation and abuse at all times.

My name is Cynthia Nielsen, yes, the Nielsen I mentioned. Five years ago my parents died because of a pirate encounter at sea, the young was taken by pirates and sold to the underground slave market, when my current husband, which is 70 years old Mr. Madison out of pity will buy me down.

From the moment I stood on the auction block with no clothes on I lost all trust in humanity and despaired of facing an inescapable nightmare that might last a lifetime, but fortunately, Mr. Madison saved me.

"From this day on, you will be called Cynthia."

At that moment I thought I had met a saint. But things didn't go as I expected. The next day Mr. Madison brought me back to the castle, and I became the nominal mistress of Madison Manor from then on. I accepted this arrangement without complaint, and I was ready to spend my whole life taking care of Mr. Madison, for whom I had only gratitude at that time.

Thinking of this, I sighed deeply, then gathered myself and went downstairs to prepare for Mr. Madison's return. I learned of Mr. Madison's existence from other people, only to hear that he was a very handsome, capable man, but had a very bad relationship with Mr. Madison.

When I appeared, Mr. Madison had already arrived in the living room with Mark, the butler, who was dressed a little more formally than usual today without being overly dramatic. His hair was already white, and his whole body looked very dry, with wrinkled skin and age spots. He still had an affable smile on his face, a smile that was unlike the one he used when he abused me.

But I noticed that his face was a little pale. He noticed me when I appeared: "Cynthia, my favorite."

Anyone who heard that would have thought he was doting on me. But I couldn't help but shiver, the pain in my arms and body urging me to bow my head and walk quickly to him.

"Mr. Madison." The smile on his lips quickly faded at the sight of my movement, and his voice was no longer as warm as it had been just then.

"I think you're almost healed."

"Yes sir."

In a few words, his face was getting worse and worse, and in a few moments he turned his head sideways and threw up a large puddle of disgusting digestive matter.

Eva, who came over, couldn't stop exclaiming, "Oh my God, Mr. Madison is throwing up!"

I rushed forward to help him wipe the filth left on his clothes, but Eva was one step ahead, but before she could touch the corner of Mr. Madison's clothes, she heard Mr. Madison yell in anger.

"Shut up!"

Mark didn't hesitate to give Eva a hard slap, then kicked Eva towards the table.

Mr. Madison glanced at the vomit on the floor with utter disgust.

"Cynthia, clean it up." He uttered contemptuously, mixed with a sense of pleasure that came from nowhere.

I clenched my fists, then resigned myself to getting on my knees with a towel and starting to clean up the vomit on the floor. The fishy smell made me gag a little.

If it wasn't for Mr. Madison, you would have died in that underground vending ring.

He seems to be having a lot of health problems these days ...... The last time I noticed that his fingers would spasm unconsciously, that time it was so bad that he fell to the ground as if he had lost control, like a mad beast, and it was Mark who finally called the doctor.

When I found out about it, I can't help but shudder at the grim expression on Mr. Madiso's face now. He ordered me to roll down the stairs in a perfectly normal voice, and after I did so with tears in my eyes, he looked at me as if I were a corpse that should be dismembered.

Just when I thought this farce was going to go on forever, Mark the butler came into the living room and nodded to Mr. Madison: "Mr. Madison, your son Arther Madison." A tall, handsome figure came through the door immediately afterward.

Arther's POV:

Two days ago, my obnoxious father blackmailed me into returning to negotiate with him by telling me on the phone that he had married a young wife and promising to transfer all his assets to her name.

This hypocritical old monster saw money as a panacea that would solve all problems. Would someone so greedy be willing to give all his property to a young woman he had just met?

Recalling the abnormal voice on the phone, I was sure that something was wrong with his body.

A godsend, I stood at the entrance to the castle and surveyed the place that I both missed and hated.

"Welcome home, Mr. Madison," Mark, our butler, said as he respectfully waited for me at the door.

"Welcome?" I sneered at Mark's groveling look, surveying a place I both missed and hated.

I hated to clap my hands when I received the news that he had summoned me home in a hurry. I knew when someone as vain and greedy as him had to threaten to give my inheritance to my stepmother in order to get me to come home that this hypocritical old monster thought he could control everyone, but of all people, I must not be included.

"Of course, Mr. Madison has been waiting for you for a long time, and he has missed you all these years." I licked my teeth with a mocking look, "Yes, come on, let's go meet my father who misses me a lot."

"Mr. Madison, your son Arther Madison has arrived." Walking into the villa, I saw at once my father himself surrounded by several maids. Rather than grow old, he had become like a dried-up specimen. He pretended to be as hypocritical as before, but the sudden trembling of his fingers and the gradual graying of his hair from time to time hinted that his life force was not so strong anymore, and he only raised his head slightly when he saw me. He looked me up and down with satisfaction.

"My son, come forward."

I did not move, but looked at him with slight regret: "So you are not dead." He was unsurprised by my mockery and directed a burly man to push him around the kneeling maids and walk to me.

"Of course not, I've been waiting for your return." He looked very relieved.

"You've grown up and look so much like your mother."

We both knew that my mother's death was taboo to me, and by bringing it up at this moment, he was simply trying to provoke me. I looked at this man who had abused my mother to death in the first place and felt incredibly ridiculous.

"You must be tired from taking so long to come over." He then turned his head and instructed Mark: "Mark, take my son to rest first."

"Yes, Mr. Edward Madison, this way."

"There is no hurry, didn't you say you wanted your father to miss me?"

I pressed his shoulder to answer, then came close to his ear: "So anxious to call me back ...... Let me guess, you have a big health problem, right? I wonder if your 20-year-old wife knows about this? If you ask me, it's better to die."

"You!" He tried to strike me in anger, but his body was not as strong as it was when he was young, and I was not the young me, so he could only stare in vain with those horrible eyes, looking like a laughing clown.

"Don't get angry, unless you want to die faster."

Not wanting to waste any more time with him, I stood up and prepared to go back to my room, but noticed that the maid was still diligently wiping the dirt off the floor, while the other servants were standing around unconcerned.

This maid looked very thin, but she had beautiful and dazzling blonde hair that made my eyes linger for a moment. She seemed to sense my gaze and looked up timidly, while my breath caught because of this face.

This is a pair of turquoise eyes, there seem to be some tears in them, look I see pity. The long, thick eyelashes were like a feather fan set on them. She has a small and straight nose, a pair of red lips are slightly open at the moment. She was a little overwhelmed by my gaze.

"Mr. Madison?"

"You get up first, there's no need to clean up."

I took hold of her slender wrist and pulled her up from the floor. She rose with my force, and it was then that I noticed her pale arms and legs were covered with bruises and scars that looked shocking to the eye. I turned my head to the other servants who had nothing better to do than to look at them: "Are the others dead? Didn't you see how badly she was hurt?"

The servants looked around without moving, and as my eyes grew colder and colder, they grew more nervous and uneasy and could only look to my father, who nodded to them before these servants came up to clean up.

This pretty little thing saw this scene instead of getting more and more upset and tried to break free of my hand.

"Mr. Madison, no, I can do it myself."

I obediently pulled her closer and could even smell the faint scent of her body, and in my heart, I decided even more that this was a superb product.

"Don't move, let them go. Tell me your name."

She looked at me nervously and said, "Sir, my name is Cynthia."

Cynthia, the 20-year-old prostitute who married my father and inherited his estate, turned out to be her, and I'm afraid the scars on her body were also my father's work.

I looked at her tender appearance, and the pity I felt just now turned into disgust.

"Cynthia. speaking of which, my stepmother's name is also Cynthia," she said, hastily shaking her head in denial.

"No, I just."

I threw her back to the floor with a sneer, wiping my slender hands with a silk scarf and then throwing it over her body.

"Looks like I'm the one who ruined your chance to behave."

"Right? Stepmother."