The air in the cramped servant's room hung heavy with unspoken words, thick with the scent of stale air and old resentments. Zoe, her honey-colored hair pulled back in a defiant bun, shoved another item into her worn duffel bag. Her mother, Alexa, stood framed in the doorway, a tightening of her lips speaking volumes more than her quiet question.

"So you’re leaving again?" Alexa's voice was controlled, but Zoe felt the familiar wave of disapproval radiating from her. She didn't look up, instead focusing on the meticulous folding of a t-shirt, a small act of rebellion.

"You know this was only temporary, Mom," Zoe replied, her voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil inside. "Until I found another job. School starts again soon, and I need to be settled. Sahara’s letting me and Bree rent an apartment, and I’ll be working at her bar. I’ll be fine."

Silence stretched, taut and thin, before Alexa finally shifted. "Are you sure that’s what you want, Zoe? Sahara isn't... the nicest person."

Zoe snorted, a sharp, bitter sound. Understatement of the year. Sahara was the master of the house’s wife, and Zoe was the master’s illegitimate daughter. The irony was a constant, festering wound. She snapped back to the present, her mother’s next words striking a fresh chord of fury.

"You know you can come and work here if you want. John would be more than happy to give you a job as a maid."

A kernel of rage ignited in Zoe's chest, hot and familiar. "How monogamous of that dick to offer me a job," she muttered, slamming her hand down on the bed. "Of course, I’ll give up my chance at college, my dream of being a songwriter, just to be a maid! Why didn’t I think of that?"