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Serve Me, My Lord

Serve Me, My Lord

Author: Wo Ruo
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Chapter 1 1

Word Count: 1289    |    Released on: 09/04/2026

fingers tore at the thin fabric. The phantom weight of a thick, coarse rope still crushed his windpipe. He choked. A wet, ugly sound ripped

sharp pain shot up his legs. He gasped again, and this time, air flooded his lun

ches. He grabbed one and struck it against the wood. The sudden flare stabbed his eyes. He sq

ed at t

ber

ee days. He was exactly three days away from the afternoon Al

in the hallway. A second later,

ed through the thin wood. "

membered Rory choking on his own vomit, dying of a fentanyl

taste of bile in his mou

voice sounded like gravel,

e small mirror above the plastic sink. He grabbe

skin was smooth and young. It was the face of a naive boy who thought hard work wo

uniform of a lower-tier footman. He pulled the trousers up. He buttoned t

ned th

ubbed his eyes. "They put me on la

't smile. He just stepped

?" Rory reached out to

dropped his shoulder and twisted his

. "What's yo

late," Emmett sai

concrete walls felt like a prison. Above them, heavy foot

f the staff cafeteria. The smell of bur

c tray. He walked t

" Moira yelled. She slammed her tray d

nd pulled his

r and sat down. He wrapped his cold hands around the hot mug. He kept his head down, but his ey

en. Mildred Finch, the he

nt. Over forty servants stood up.

lack shoes clicked on the floor. S

d in. He smelled peppermint on her breath

e kept his breathing perfectly even. H

om his neck. She frowned. His tie

She let out a sharp

eeting ended. Elias, the head bu

om. Polish the antique

e wooden cleaning box. He stepped into the hidden servi

ked up. Emmett's

lemon polish and expensive flowers. The massive crystal chandelier

rug. His throat tightened. This room

on white cotton gloves. He picked up a heavy silv

remembered the sound of the judge's gavel. He

of the dining ro

coat and white breeches. He held a leather riding

idn't look

ed. His face turned red. "Move the funds from the Swiss acco

. He breathed heavily. He sto

med. He slammed the ridi

large silver tray. The tray fl

the edge of the heavy tray right before it hit the floor.

g. He turned his head.

. He looked at Emmett like

the tray against his chest. He t

re ice cold. He stared at Alistair's expensive

nd and shoved the telegraph disp

d. He walked out of the ro

table. He picked up the riding crop. He ran his thumb o

cloth. He went

silver tray. His face

ulled up. He smiled. It wa

y chimed seven times. The heavy

ned. He star

s. That was all

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Serve Me, My Lord
Serve Me, My Lord
“Emmett was a loyal footman at the wealthy Patterson estate, desperate to scrub the slum out of his blood. He abandoned his family and gave his absolute devotion to the beautiful young miss, Clara. But when the estate faced bankruptcy, Clara ruthlessly framed him for embezzlement to protect her family's wealth. He was shoved into a police carriage in the freezing rain. Through the window, he saw Clara watching him with fake pity, looking at him like a stray dog being put down. The judge slammed his gavel, sentencing him to a slow, agonizing death. Because he had spent all his wages on tailored uniforms to fit in, his mother died in a cheap coffin from an untreated illness, leaving his siblings to starve. As the thick, coarse rope crushed his windpipe, Emmett was filled with agonizing regret. He didn't understand how the woman who smiled so sweetly could send him to the gallows without a single ounce of hesitation. Opening his eyes again, Emmett found himself back in the servant's quarters, exactly three days before the Patterson family's downfall. This time, he wouldn't be their loyal dog. He was going to be their executioner. He planned to watch Clara sell herself to the savage new heir, Kearney Bernard, just to keep her luxury. But at the welcome dinner, the terrifying new master ignored Clara completely, locked his dark, obsessive eyes on Emmett, and whispered. "You are mine. Nobody touches you."”